The news just hit the airwaves that Amy Winehouse is dead at age 27. Another victim of fame whose life was cut tragically short. I didn't know her music or her all that well, but I have kept up with her headlines these past few years.
What is it about fame and fortune that turns out so many tragic addicted people? Or is just that we hear more about them than ordinary folks? Is it that they have so much at mostly an early age? Is the lure of an artificial high the only way they can feel anything? Or is the ability to afford anything too much of a temptation?
My first experience with fame cutting a life tragically short was when Elvis died. I remember exactly where I was. In high school in Australia, during Algebra class. They stopped all classes and called a school assembly to tell us all that the King was dead. I remember the shock and tears that fell around me. I remember gathering every newspaper and magazine I could get my hands on, to cut out articles of the King's death. I still have that scrapbook. Of course, today, we can look at hundreds of articles with just a few clicks, but it somehow doesn't have the same finality to it.
Back then, the death of someone like Elvis because of drugs was big headlines and it shocked the world. In today's world, it hardly causes a blip on anyone's radar. After all, how many have we lost to drug use? The list is a long and sad one.
I guess the saddest part of Amy Winehouse's death is that I thought to myself just a couple of years ago that she probably wouldn't live to be 30. I really hate to be right.
I hope you find some peace, Amy.
I hope she finds some peace, too.
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