Why do legends die... so quickly

Talking to my daughter tonight. Commented how quickly people move out of the conversation, go from being household names to afterthoughts-- in the blink of an eye.

Think of Jay Leno? Remember him? Just barely right. He was The Tonight Show host. Had the best job a comedian can get. Then his tenure ended. He's forgotten. Or so it seems.

David Letterman? A comedy genius. The man who introduced irony. And that's the key to comedy performance-- a total revolution. Well, he ended a few months ago and is not completely forgotten. But almost.

Jon Stewart. You loved him. But you'll probably forget him. Can't see him every night. He doesn't exist.

Maybe if you were just the right age to savor Jon Stewart he will continue to resonate and hold a magic place in your heart and your memory bank. I didn't fall into that demographic. So Jon takes a minor role in the repertoire of characters filling the back rows of my consciousness.

Frank Gifford passed away, a football star and Monday Night Football broadcaster. The cool thing is he was immortalized in the literary annals by Frederick Exley in his incomparable A Fan's Notes-- must be read to be believed. Oxley is like Holden Caulfield, all grown up and still fucked-up as hell. A brilliant and wonderful book and with a strong Frank Gifford motif.

But I like Gifford. I was a 10 year old kid in NYC when he was a young gazelle for the NY Football Giants as they were called back then. Not to be confused by the baseball team NY Giants from up in the Polo Grounds.

And then for a kid who loved media... what could be better than The Hick, The Prick and Gif... the "irreverent county-boy" Dandy Don Meredith, "the contentious" Howard Cossell, and Frank Gifford "with his low-key persona"... calling the Monday Night football games at the behest  of Roone Arledge. Gifford was the rational one, keeping track of the ball and the flow of the game. But they're all gone now and soon to be forgotten. (Quotes are from the NY Times obituary of Frank Gifford on August 10, 2015.)

That's the nature of this beast, this thing called mortality. You have to reach a certain age to realize just how cruel it is, and how beautiful... we all dance to the tune of the Grim Reaper.... the kings, the peasants, the butchers, bakers, candlestick makers and football announcers too.

Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio,
A nation turns its eyes to you (woo, woo, woo)

(Simon and Garfukel, Mrs. Robinson lyrics)