some people like to bitch for bitching's sake. And she knew, because she tended to be one of those people. Hell, most of us are those people from time to time. We complain about the weather or fuel prices or politics or our hectic schedule, or the jack asses who can't figure out a 4-way stop (maybe that's my personal bitch). But have you noticed the people who bitch because it seems they want to push buttons. I'm talking about folks who use a very public forum to make sure everyone knows how annoyed they are by this or that to the point at which those of us around them are thinking "me thinks thou doth protest too much". But we mean in the literal way, not the literary Bard way.
I'm on vacation at Fort Morgan beach this week, so I have very little to bitch about. Perhaps that's why I notice all the complaining going on around me. I've gotten quiet, so I can hear all those other voices. I've pulled the beam out of my eye so I can more clearly see the splinter in someone else's, right Julia?
Here's where I'm headed with this; Whitney Houston died. As of this moment, I've not seen a conclusive cause of death. We all have read about her struggles and are making assumptions. Add to that some of us watching a lot of CSI in it's various manifestations, and it seems that some of us fancy ourselves couch pathologists. This whole thing leads me in a couple of different directions, one being about the bitchers and the other being about why those bitchers don't think it is OK to mourn a chick who was part of the soundtrack of my youth simply because she at a point had a drug problem and perhaps that problem led to her end. The two do tie together, trust me. The thing I'd like for you to try to keep in mind is that this isn't exclusively about Whitney, she's my abstract inspiration. But the Negative Nellies will pick the part that they can be most offended by and roll that little nugget around until they've whipped themselves up into a frenzy and are just forced to take to Facebook and yet again bitch.
Here's the thing, I screeched out Whitney Houston songs in my shower when I was a teenager. I danced slow dances with young men wearing too much Polo or Stetson to her songs. I cried to them when my heart got broken. They were a ubiquitous part of the late eighties culture. Anytime a life is cut short it is sad. Anytime a teenage lost little girl is left motherless, it is a tragedy. Anytime a mother outlives a daughter it leaves a boulder of sorrow. No matter how someone dies, the fact that they leave innocent, grieving souls behind makes that a grievable event. The general public felt they knew her. How could you hear that National Anthem and not be moved? Now the bitchers likely wrote her off as soon as they heard that she maybe didn't think crack was so wack. Because bitchers will find any opening, any crack in perfect and shine their bitchy little lights on it (I imagine the lights are flashing yellow for some reason).
The interesting thing to me is that those who make a sport out of bitching secretly seem to get a little glee when someone falls or makes a mistake. It gives them something to point to and prattle on and on about. I also a bit wonder if they are so quick to point that flashing yellow light at other's cracks so to keep people from noticing their own bigger, deeper secrets and lies. The things from their past that they'd be ashamed about. The things they pretend no one remembers. They wave their arms and shout about banal topics to keep people from pausing to ask "didn't he ..." "I thought she...". They also seem to hope that by being so consistently aggressive, they'll frighten people off from exposing their own weaknesses. As long as they stand on their porch or sit behind their keyboards and bark big and loud, no one will come near them. And most good people won't. Most non-bitchers will talk about how absolutely pathetic s/he looks waving that flag, holding that line, bitching about Whitney's drug problem when everyone has a past, and there's always someone who knows that past.
So bitchers are going to bitch to focus the attention elsewhere or simply because they find themselves and their "witty" (not even close) retorts so monumental that all must hear and heartily agree or they don't love America, they hate soldiers, they don't love children, or animals, or trees or Jesus. Because we've decided as a society that hitting "like" on a Facebook post measures our degree of commitment and love and dedication. If you don't repost this unoriginal thought or downright wrong information, you're a bad person. If you don't bitch, you're passive and unimaginative and irrelevant. I beg to differ. Sharing a link, I get. It contains more information than a cleverly worded, often misrepresentative sound bite. Copy and paste is like not covering a sneeze to me. You're sharing, but does anyone really want it?
Back to Whitney, I get it. I don't want any of my littles to grow up to be like her entirely. It kind of goes back to the grass only being greener in patches on the other side. Would I love for one of them to have some sort of talent unsurpassed by most? Yep. Would I want it to change who they were and how they believed and behaved? Nope. Would I want them to die alone at age 48 in a bathtub where pictures of their last meal and the tub full of water, the very last thing they touched while they were alive, will be spread all over the world before their body is laid to rest? Oh my, no. Lord no.
Maybe she did take too many pills and had a drink too many. That happens every single day to other families. They get a call, they drag a loved one out of a tub, they find them in their beds after panicked phone calls. Does the fact that they had a problem make them less loved or missed? Does it make their children and parents and sisters cry less? Does that make the loss of potential that a parent saw in the eyes of that person when they were a newborn less wasted? But because it's a public figure, we all feel the need to judge and pile on and condemn. Imagine reading those things and hearing those things mere hours after your mother died? Heartless, judgemental thugs. That's who we're turning into.
Let me ask you this, would it have been more or less tragic if she died of lung cancer after being a smoker for 20 years? Or if she died of colon cancer after 50 years of a low fiber diet? Or if she died of heart disease because all she ever ate was fatty foods and sat on her couch until they rolled her out to sing? All of those are lifestyle choices that we all know increase our risk of early death. So do drugs. So does alcohol. They're lifestyle choices too? I have family members and friends who smoke. I promise you this, if any of them died of lung cancer, not for one minute would I be thinking they don't deserve to be grieved because they asked for it. I have friends who drink, if one day their liver gives out, I'm still going to be standing in line to pay my respects and my heart is going to be just as broken as if they'd died any other way. And if I read on your Facebook status that YOU judge them unworthy of grief, you and I will have words.
I'm almost done, I promise. Just one little point here, I've read much about how insulting it is that Whitney is having a huge funeral and soldiers who die in combat seem to be so ignored. The town I live in certainly doesn't ignore them. We line the streets holding flags and banners in silent solidarity with the family who has given so much only to lose it permanently. I'm with those who think the flags at half-staff was a pretty ridiculous call, but until I get elected Governor of a state, that's not my call. Here's the thing I noticed, people were posting and bitching about that, but then that was it. Their next status update was about the weather or gas prices or some other banal bitch. There were posts of music videos about drinking or rants about various sports teams. Huh.
How about this, how about if you post something about "instead of blocking off traffic for her funeral they should do it for military funerals only" or "instead of all the coverage about a celebrity's death, why aren't they showing stories about fallen soldiers?" or "instead of sending money to foreign countries to help why don't we take care of our own?" you have to share your instead. Because as I see it, YOU are posting about a celebrity death instead of a soldier. Not once have I seen some of these rabid bitchers list the name of a man or woman killed in action today. I see unsportsman-like bashing of a team that isn't even the one they cheer for (and we know who they like because they spend lots of time sharing that instead of ...). I see bitching about what musician you "hate" followed by links to videos of artists you don't, as if all the world has been waiting for you to let us know what's worthy and what's not. Why aren't you posting the names of the dead and wounded instead? Why aren't you listing local and national charities that help wounded vets and their families every single day in your status? Why aren't you traveling hundreds of miles to hold a flag at some dead kid's funeral? How about the day you die everyone completely ignores you, shares all your dirty laundry on-line and instructs everyone that anyone who feels sad about your passing is out of line, because someone somewhere doesn't like you and doesn't think you are worthy of mourning because of the mistakes you made?
How about trying to do something instead of bitching. How about you start doing what you bitch about others not doing? Maybe you think it won't get you as much attention? Maybe you just enjoy pushing buttons and starting an argument and then changing the subject when people don't blindly agree? That's cool. That's your instead and even though you don't allow others that benefit, we'll let you keep yours. Because if bitching were a sport, you might make the finals, hell you might even win. And we all know that talking about what others should do and passing judgement is what's really important. I know, because I'm maybe doing that right now. So for just a little bit, let me do something instead...
This link is a history of women who've given their lives to protect our freedom: http://userpages.aug.com/captbarb/lives.html
Scroll down and you can select to see by month and year real sacrifice, you can see their faces and read how they died, who they were and where they were from. Each face will break your heart:
http://militarytimes.com/valor/
How's this for a reality check, the very day I turned 40, the day I was lamenting aging and spending too much money on a handbag, 21 year old Army Spc. Calvin M. Pereda from Fayetteville, NC died in Afghanistan of injuries sustained from an IED.
Today, that'll be my instead. I've posted this instead of writing about what the humidity does to my hair, or how it's a little cool when the sun isn't out here at the beautiful beach. Instead, I'm going to think about how lucky I am in this moment, how the size of someone's funeral doesn't have anything to do with me, how contentment is certainly a goal. And maybe I'll wait until tomorrow to go back to competitive bitching. Hell, maybe tomorrow I'll even let you win.
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