Shallow sorrow undermines genuine loss

Don’t get me wrong, mourning together is a natural human behavior. And like any other music-appreciating person, I get chills hearing Houston’s voice float through “I Will Always Love You.” But blowing up the proportion of yet another fallen star’s burnout only chips away at society’s emotional integrity.
If you managed to miss the millions of Facebook statuses, Tweets, news updates and frown-face texts last weekend, allow me to enlighten you on the latest and greatest tragedy. The Queen of the Night herself, Whitney Houston, has died.
Sufficiently conditioned by my soul ballad-loving mother, I was naturally saddened to hear of Houston’s passing. Yet, I was in no way shocked. The only thing that shocked me was the tsunami-sized wake that her death seemed to create. Haven’t we all heard this story before? I assure you, we have.
In fact, our society seems to have some kind of grim history of musicians and movie stars dying at unseasonable ages. Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, John Belushi, Anna Nicole Smith, Brittany Murphy, Heath Ledger and countless others all died before the age of 45 due to alcohol and drug abuse. We’ve even established the “27 Club” around an elite group of musicians, all of whom died at the age of 27 from drug abuse. Notable members include Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse.
To me, there’s nothing mysterious about premature deaths when you consider the noxious concoctions of drugs found in their systems — up to 14 different prescription and illegal drugs in some cases, like Elvis Presley. It’s also not mysterious that we generate brouhaha every time one of these revered public figures falls to mortality. Our society loves anything grand, the massive successes and the massive calamities.
The saying, “misery loves company,” is certainly proven true as we continually wail over these celebrity deaths. But, why? If the hellish health habits and ludicrous lifestyles of these celebrities point inevitably to early, yet still tragic, deaths, why are we continually thrown off guard when the obituaries hit the stands?
Because we love the drama. We all fan the flames of rising one-hit wonders until they are established hits, tune out for a while, and then return wholehearted and misty-eyed when the lifetime tributes are playing on loop. This obsession is our own version of the gladiator games. As frenzied audience members, we are only too aware of the raucous lifestyles of the famous (thank you, People magazine).
Of course, there is tragedy in any death, and that’s exactly the problem. Why do we care more about Whitney Houston dying than the sweet old couple down the street? Whitney and her fellow fame claimers monopolize the grief market because it makes good news, and we are the happy consumers. We would rather share in the superficial, disconnected emotions associated with celebrities than actually suffer in real life.
Ask yourself: Did I ever spend time worrying about [insert celebrity]’s drug/alcohol problem before his/her actual death? If the answer is no, then you probably didn’t have a genuine emotional connection. And most of us don’t. There’s certainly not enough real sentiment to shake these revered celebrities out of their drunken and drugged stupor.
We can, and should, appreciate the talents that we absorb and enjoy through our extensive entertainment industry. But at some point, we need to realize the petty depth of our mourning and either care enough to bring these celebrities out of their circling death spirals or start pouring ourselves into something real.