The One Where We All Lost a F-R-I-E-N-D

Each year we are saddened by the news of the death of a celebrity who meant something special to us. I can still remember my first experience with a celebrity death when musician Jim Croce was killed in a plane crash in September of 1973. At the time of Jim Croce's death I was only nine years old, but I spent a lot of time listening to music on the new turntable in my bedroom that summer and two of my favorite albums wereYou Don't Mess Around with Jim, which had been released back in 1972 and Life and Times which was released a mere two months before Croce's untimely death in 1973. The sounds of the #1 smash hit Bad, Bad Leroy Brown were heard coming from my room on a daily basis back in the summer of 1973 and for many seasons to come.

To this day I can still recall the heavy weight of sadness I felt as a result of Jim Croce's sudden and unexpected death. At that stage in life, I was just beginning to wrap my mind around the concept of death and loss. I was blessed to have all four of my grandparents still very much alive at that point. My dad had lost his sister when I was three years old, but I didn't really remember anything about that particular death. In many ways, the death of Jim Croce along with the Munich massacre at the 1972 Summer Olympics were two of the more traumatic experiences of the first ten years of my life. Even though I had absolutely zero personal connection to Jim Croce, the emotional connection I made with his music made me feel like I had lost an important friend as I was preparing to enter my adolescence. I didn't realize it at the time, but I needed to grieve his loss. 
 
Like many of you, my most recent brush with celebrity death was the news of Matthew Perry's death a little over a week ago. Countless celebrities have left their earthly bodies in the 50 years that have passed since Jim Croce's death back in 1973, but very few have had as big an emotional effect on me as Matt Perry's passing. In fact I would probably have to go all the way back to Robin William's death in 2014 to find a comparable situation where a celebrity death had such an impact on me. 

Over the past few days, I have been thinking a lot about what some of the reasons might be that Robin Williams' and Matthew Perry's deaths in particular have had a more significant impact on me than other celebrity deaths. I was definitely a fan of both of their individual and highly unique brands of comedy. They both died younger than they might have, given a more typical life expectancy. Like Jim Croce, there was definitely an aspect of trauma to both Williams' and Perry's passing. All of these above reasons are valid and true, but when it comes right down to it, I think there is one underlying reason why I experienced so much sadness surrounding the deaths of these two brilliantly talented comedians that died too soon. That reason is very much the same reason that had nine year old Jimmy so sad back in 1973: somewhere deep down inside of me there is a part that felt like in the deaths of Jim Croce, Robin Williams and Matthew Perry, I was losing a person I could think of as a friend. The bond and affection I felt towards all three of these men required no direct personal relationship. 

I realize that the feelings I am experiencing over Matthew Perry's death are not solely my own. The collective outpouring of emotion has blanketed the headlines and filled up casual conversation spaces everywhere. In fact even within my own home, I am noticing that my wife Christiana has been equally, if not even more saddened by Matthew Perry's death than I have been. Christiana never had an opportunity to watch the TV show Friends while it was on its original run back in the 1990s and early 2000s, so she binge watched the entirety of the series while she was pregnant with our daughter back in 2017. As Christiana reached the end of her pregnancy concurrently with her watching the final season of the series, it was particularly poignant that Ross and Rachel's baby was named Emma, the same name we had already chosen for our own daughter, but had not told anybody. It was kind of as if we were able to share our secret name with the whole world while at the same time not without give anything away. 

I originally watched Friends with my first wife while it was in its heyday. Even though our marriage failed, my first wife was one of the best friends I have ever had in my life. I still miss the friendship part of our relationship even though we have been apart for over 15 years. For many years, she and I built our Thursday nights around Seinfeld, Friends and ER, long before DVRs and streaming were commonplace in our lives. With little to no chance to see these shows the next day or whenever we wanted for that matter, Thursday night on NBC truly was indeed must see TV.

Through the years I have rewatched bits and pieces of Friends via late night reruns and streaming services. Like many shows from the past, much of the classic aspect of the humor remains, but not all the jokes stand up to the test of time. In more recent years, I can't help but notice how many episodes of Friends have elements of homophobia, the objectification of women and even fat shaming. None of that brand of humor makes me particularly comfortable these days. What the show Friends DID do the best in my mind though, was to make the viewer long to have the type of friendships in their own life like the ones that were shared between the characters played by Jennifer Aniston, Courtney Cox, Lisa Kudrow, Matt LeBlanc, David Schwimmer and the now late Matthew Perry,

The way I see it, a very small percentage of people have been blessed to have that kind of "across the hall, always present in your life" group of friends like the ones depicted on the TV show Friends. From where I sit, I see far more people who go about their lives feeling lonely and wishing for more out of their friendships than they are currently receiving. This pervasive loneliness seems to have reached epidemic levels in our post pandemic, highly virtual world. That makes me sad. 

I think another reason that so many people were particularly moved by the deaths of both Robin Williams and Matthew Perry like I was, is because both of these men struggled so openly with addiction and the ensuing shame and depression that often accompanies that addiction. Anyone who has ever struggled with anything at all in life can feel great compassion for Robin and Matthew's realness. I'm currently calling to mind the line from The Velveteen Rabbit where the Skin Horse explains to the rabbit what it means to be made real. For those of you who are not familiar, I have included the full passage below, which by the way was one of the readings at my amazing wedding with Christiana back in 2013. 

I have heard numerous people through the years reflect about these types of celebrity deaths by saying something like, "How could someone who was so masterful at entertaining others and making them feel better, have so much trouble feeling better themselves." That mindset does not pay respect to the real and human aspects of the ones we idolize and put on pedestals. As it turns out, being human can be particularly challenging regardless of how much money or fame one might happen to enjoy.

In 1988 Robin Williams told People magazine that using cocaine gave him a place to hide. He also noted that it was the fact that he was with John Belushi on the night of Belushi's fatal overdose along with the impending arrival of Williams' first son, that was the impetus to quit drugs and alcohol cold turkey, knowing that he "couldn't be a father and live that sort of life." As I approach my two year anniversary of choosing to live as a sober person, I admire the bravery that Robin Williams showed in choosing his family over his addiction, even if life in general did continue to be a struggle for him for many more years leading up to his death. What Williams was never able to do apparently, was to find that place of peace where he could get the sanctuary he needed from the unsettling noises inside his own heart and mind; his replacement place to hide if you will. That too makes me sad.

As of now, Matthew Perry's cause of death is labeled as an apparent drowning awaiting toxicology reports. I for one hope that it stays that way and that we either never hear more about the toxicology or that it confirms that no drugs or alcohol were involved. None of us really benefit from listening to years of conjecture as to whether or not Perry had another relapse or whether or not he was high when he drowned. The fact of the matter is that both Robin Williams and Matthew Perry did the best they could do to make sense of their own lives while at the same time bringing infinite joy to the lives of so many others. 

For me, watching Friends or other similar shows can feel like that safe sanctuary for what ails me after a long and challenging day. It's like a warm comforting hug when I'm feeling cold and lonely because it is familiar and carefree. For the millions and millions of other people who have also used the TV show Friends as a part of their own personal coping mechanism to soften the pain of the things in their own life, I encourage you to continue to do so and as you are doing so, make space to grieve the loss of someone who may have felt very much like a friend to you. In continuing to celebrate the craft of artists like Jim Croce, Robin Williams and Matthew Perry, we honor the more human aspects of their larger than life personas. 

In my real world existence I have lost many friends, some who have left their bodies and others who have simply drifted away. In my own personal version of Oscar Wilde's observation that "Life imitates Art much more that Art imitates Life," I have lost loved ones to substance abuse, suicide, a plane crash and believe it or not, even a drowning accident. While I will continue to grieve the loss of those who have left my life, I always do my best to remember that I can carry them in my heart for eternity regardless of how or why they left. The other VERY important thing to remember is that new friends are out there waiting to be made and the person you might be lucky enough to find needs you in their life every bit as much as you need them. That thought actually makes me quite happy. 

Over the weekend, Nick at Night happened to be showing the final few episodes of Friends so I got a chance to remember how the whole thing ended. I admit the show got even more campy in its final few seasons, but there was a particular moment in the second to last episode that really stood out for me. In episode number #234 titled The One with Rachel's Going Away Party, Rachel, played by Jennifer Aniston, goes through the group of friends one at a time to say a heartfelt goodbye before moving to Paris with her daughter Emma for her new job. When the time comes to say goodbye to Chandler, played by Matthew Perry, the two walk into the bedroom and just as Rachel is about to speak, Chandler stops her and says:

"Let me just say something because when we get into this, I'm going to get all uncomfortable and I'll make some stupid joke... I just want to say that I love you, and I'll miss you, and I'm so sad that you are leaving." 

Appropriately, Rachel replies by saying "Let's not say anything else" before giving Chandler a giant hug. Chandler then gets silly of course, but the show was a sitcom first and foremost. All the great comedies through the years knew how to take the viewer on a ride through a full range of emotions in a single episode. 

Earlier in this reflection, I made note of the fact that Friends occasionally drifted into threads of humor that weren't always inclusive or appropriate. One of those ways was the depiction of Chandler's character as somehow being less manly than Joey or other male actors who made guest appearances in supporting roles on the show through the years. At times it was even joked about and insinuated by other characters in the show that people thought that Chandler was gay because of his gentle nature, as if being a male with a softer side was an indication of weakness and/or was tied to one's sexual orientation. 

As someone who has spent the last decade of my life heavily involved in men's work with the specific intent of learning more about what the model of mature masculinity should look like, nothing in my mind could have been more mature or more masculine than what Matthew Perry's character displayed in that final moment with Jennifer Anniston's character Rachel: 

I love you

I'll miss you 

I'm sad

I for one will be very happy to live in a world where life imitates art in the way that more men are willing to use those three phrases without fear of being judged as unmanly. Some might say that the TV show Friends at times did a disservice to gender roles, diversity and inclusion, but in other ways, Matthew Perry's character was a multi-faceted man who was ahead of his time in so many ways. 

In the Velveteen Rabbit, the Skin Horse says:

"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Much like Jim Croce and Robin Williams, Matthew Perry left this lifetime far sooner than many of us would have preferred, but there is no question that in his 54 years on this planet, he left an indelible mark about what it means to be a real person, a good man, a decent human and a good friend. Perry also demonstrated that despite his struggles, he understood himself at the deepest level. A year before he died, Perry was interviewed by Canadian broadcaster Tom Power, who asked Perry how he would like to be remembered when he died. There is a chilling irony in that question as we sit here ten days after Perry's death. Perry answered Power by saying: 

"The best thing about me, bar none, is that if an alcoholic or drug addict comes up to me and says, 'Will you help me?' I can say yes and follow up and do it. When I die, I don't want Friends to be the first thing that's mentioned. I want that (me being a helper) to be the first thing that's mentioned, and I'm going to live the rest of my life proving that."

So as we all say goodbye to our friend Matthew Perry, I encourage you to do so by remembering that you too came here in this lifetime to make a difference and to help others. One does not need a global stage or tens of millions of dollars to show up in the lives of others and offer loving support. I know that I for one, plan on continuing to do all that I can do to be the best friend I can possibly be with the hopes that I can make a difference. And if you are ever feeling a bit lonely or wishing for more from the people in your life, never forget that I am here for you and I need your friendship every bit as much as you need mine. 

Thanks so much for reading this all the way through. I put a lot of emotional energy into this particular piece. It was both challenging and healing for me to write it. If this week's reflection moved you in any way, I would love it if you sent me a quick reply with your own thoughts and/or shared it with any of your own F•R•I•E•N•D•S who you think might be well served by reading. 

Jim 

Excerpt from The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams Bianco

“Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. '"It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,'" he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."