When Michael Jackson died the week of June 25, two other celebrities passed away as well: Johnny Carson's TV sidekick and lifelong friend Ed McMahon and "Charlie's Angels" star Farrah Fawcett. I met people who were a little superstitious and spooked about deaths happening in threes and that it's an omen or prophecy of bad things to come when they happen. I don't believe such things; they are concidental when they happen, tragic as they still are when they do.
Last week one of those threes happened again, but this time it got personal. We lost guitar legend Les Paul, Special Olympics founder Eunice Kennedy Shriver... and I lost a close friend to a sudden heart attack, Joe Snell, director of multi-ethnic programs at Azusa Pacific University in California. He was only 46 when God called him home. He recently went back to Texas to settle matters with his late mother's estate, of whom he was the executor, and I hadn't heard from him for a few weeks. When I learned of his passing, it hit me like a ton of bricks because it's the first time in my entire life that a friend has died on me. Family members, yes, but friends, not until now.
For the past few days I have been going between depression, fatigue and a lot of sleeping over Joe's death. He was a guy with a great sense of humor, a love for his job and the students he served at APU, and a love for Jesus, whom we both serve. I always liked his wickedly wild sense of humor, his stories about how bad the weather in Seattle was when he was working up there for Washington State, his slight Texas twang and his liberal use of "y'all" whenever he was excited and/or in a good mood. He was also, however, under a lot of stress over his dying mother in the past two years, the family friction it brought about, and the legal dealings over settling her estate. Joe is now buried next to his mom in San Antonio, home in his beloved Lone Star State until the day of resurrection, as we Christians believe.
Eunice Kennedy Shriver was also emotional for me because I competed in the Special Olympics back in fifth grade. I was in what is called "Adaptive P.E." because of problems I had with physical coordination, sudden growth spurts and inability to participate in mainstream P.E. classes, and my teacher enrolled me in a local Special Olympics event. Most of the ribbons I won were "participant" because I was the slowest and dead last in a lot of events, including the 50 yard dash, but I won third place in sit-ups, which I was very proud of. And while many of my fellow athletes that day had intellectual disabilities, that didn't matter to me, because I was having too much fun competing just like in the 1980 Winter Olympics I saw on TV the year before.
As a kid, I always thought Eunice was a funny name for a lady. On the old NBC sitcom "Mama's Family", Eunice was the name of Mama's argumentative daughter and played by Carol Burnett, and it marked me for life. To my chagrin, I later learned it was a biblical name; Eunice was one of the many supporters of St. Paul the Apostle. But it also means in Greek "rebirth" or "new energy", and it perfectly described Eunice Kennedy Shriver's zest for life and tireless dedication to the mentally and intellectually disabled, especially in the founding of the Special Olympics. When I saw Mrs. Shriver's funeral service on the internet last Friday, I cried as one person after another shared about her love for lifting others up ahead of herself and as a Special Olympic athlete escorted by a police officer led the recessional carrying a lighted Olympic torch.
And then there is Les Paul. Modern music as we know it today would simply not exist if not for his invention of the electric guitar and multitrack recording. He was a damn good guitarist, too. An inventor as well as a musician, he put a phonograph needle to a guitar as a teenager to amplify the sound of his playing, using his mom's radio as a loudspeaker. He experimented with stacks of studio recording discs played at different speeds to create special effects such as overdubs, echoes, and modified guitar licks without a sound filter. He helped invent the world's first multitrack tape recorder. And there were those amazing songs he recorded with his wife Mary Ford, such as "How High The Moon" or "Mockingbird Hill". Always a tinkerer, he kept busy performing and working all the way until his death at age 94. He is ultimately responsible for the magic behind the sound recording equipment and software I use today, and for that I am grateful.
So this past week death again happened in threes, but it was a little personal for me. But I am grateful for how Joe, Eunice and Les personally touched my life. And I am privileged that I got to know one of them personally.
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