Something to think about
I watched an interview with the Ebersol family recently for a project. Dick Ebersol and Susan Saint James (NBC sports executive and former actress on "Kate and Allie') had a son, Teddy, who died in a plane crash in November 2004. He was 14. Charlie Ebersol, who was about 21 at the time, was also on the plane. He survived the crash, and he even went back into the plane after it came to a stop to get his father. At the time, he blamed himself for not being able to find Teddy and save him too, but what he did not know at the time, and what is now the only thing that allows him to forgive himself for not saving his brother as well as his father, is that Teddy Ebersol was only found two days after the crash, when the a crane lifted the wreckage and found a "whole little boy" (as Susan Saint James says) under it all. As it turns out, it would have been impossible for Charlie to save his brother.
Yeah, this one pretty much got me. I used to not cry in movies. I was stoic until Joaquin Phoenix in Ladder 49, and since then, I'll cry when someone wins the Showcase Showdown on the Price is Right. It's just pathetic. Well, yeah, I was pretty much a mess watching the whole interview, but I figure that's okay. Show anybody an interview with a 22-year-old guy who's still wrecked that he lost his brother; show a father who talks about his son who saved him and the son who died; show a mother who still can't bring herself to clean her son's room out because, though she says she knows it's impossible, she still thinks he's going to come home, and I think you give the viewer a free crying pass. Yeah, you just do.
Here's what got me about Teddy Ebersol: Dick Ebersol was obviously into sports, as the head of NBC sports. But Teddy wasn't into it. A few years back though, he suddenly became this huge Red Sox fan. He knew every statistic, was into every part of the Red Sox team and baseball in general. When Susan Saint James and Teddy were driving one summer, she asked her son why he had suddenly become such a big Red Sox fan. He told her it was because of his father. He told her that he didn't have a "language" to connect to his dad through, and seeing as his dad was such a big sports fan, he figured sports was the way to go. So he did it, and he loved it. I don't know of many kids, twelve or thirteen years old, who have it together enough to recognize that they don't really connect with their parents, let alone the ability to go out and find that connection and pursue it. He must have been a good kid.
The thing is, it's just heartbreaking to listen to a family talk about their missing piece, especially when he seemed like such a genuinely good guy. Hearing Dick Ebersol tell everyone how Teddy wanted to connect to him, how Willie Ebersol - another brother - was grateful for staying up too late the night before the crash to talk with his brother, how Susan Saint James still keeps one of his worn shirts - with the sleeves rolled up, just how he would wear it - in her closet, it's just too much. You wonder, why do these people go on these shows and give these interviews? Why do they do it?
I don't know. The Ebersols have some wisdom to share, if you ask me. They've got a good philosophy about not being bitter, about moving forward, about life having to continue even when it seems too hard. They're sad, and everyone's sad for them, but there's an acknowledgement that even though the sadness probably will never go away, there's going to be some happy stuff along the way. And I think that's valuable, even if it's hard to hear.
Someone I know watched the show before I got to it. When I told her I wasn't looking forward to watching it because I knew how sad it would be, she said, "You know, I thought the same thing at first, but it's not that bad. It's sad, obviously, but if I were ever, God forbid, in that situation, I hope I would have the wisdom they have to act the way they are."
After watching it, she was right. If you've got to be in that bad a situation, you can only hope to have the grace that this family does going through it all. Sure, they go a little off here and there with some feel-good stuff, but I'll give them the pass. If you can come out of this thing not only alive, but able to recognize and celebrate the good that still exists in life - if you can even find it in you to do that - then, well, you've got something.
This whole thing has depressed me. I've written enough about it. It's just that you see something like that, and where do you go from it? I guess to where it always ends up, with the same old truth: life's not fair. People are always saying that life isn't fair, and you hear it all the time, how people are wronged, how good people get the shit deal in the end. Well you know what, it's true. Life isn't fair. It really isn't.
Yeah, this one pretty much got me. I used to not cry in movies. I was stoic until Joaquin Phoenix in Ladder 49, and since then, I'll cry when someone wins the Showcase Showdown on the Price is Right. It's just pathetic. Well, yeah, I was pretty much a mess watching the whole interview, but I figure that's okay. Show anybody an interview with a 22-year-old guy who's still wrecked that he lost his brother; show a father who talks about his son who saved him and the son who died; show a mother who still can't bring herself to clean her son's room out because, though she says she knows it's impossible, she still thinks he's going to come home, and I think you give the viewer a free crying pass. Yeah, you just do.
Here's what got me about Teddy Ebersol: Dick Ebersol was obviously into sports, as the head of NBC sports. But Teddy wasn't into it. A few years back though, he suddenly became this huge Red Sox fan. He knew every statistic, was into every part of the Red Sox team and baseball in general. When Susan Saint James and Teddy were driving one summer, she asked her son why he had suddenly become such a big Red Sox fan. He told her it was because of his father. He told her that he didn't have a "language" to connect to his dad through, and seeing as his dad was such a big sports fan, he figured sports was the way to go. So he did it, and he loved it. I don't know of many kids, twelve or thirteen years old, who have it together enough to recognize that they don't really connect with their parents, let alone the ability to go out and find that connection and pursue it. He must have been a good kid.
The thing is, it's just heartbreaking to listen to a family talk about their missing piece, especially when he seemed like such a genuinely good guy. Hearing Dick Ebersol tell everyone how Teddy wanted to connect to him, how Willie Ebersol - another brother - was grateful for staying up too late the night before the crash to talk with his brother, how Susan Saint James still keeps one of his worn shirts - with the sleeves rolled up, just how he would wear it - in her closet, it's just too much. You wonder, why do these people go on these shows and give these interviews? Why do they do it?
I don't know. The Ebersols have some wisdom to share, if you ask me. They've got a good philosophy about not being bitter, about moving forward, about life having to continue even when it seems too hard. They're sad, and everyone's sad for them, but there's an acknowledgement that even though the sadness probably will never go away, there's going to be some happy stuff along the way. And I think that's valuable, even if it's hard to hear.
Someone I know watched the show before I got to it. When I told her I wasn't looking forward to watching it because I knew how sad it would be, she said, "You know, I thought the same thing at first, but it's not that bad. It's sad, obviously, but if I were ever, God forbid, in that situation, I hope I would have the wisdom they have to act the way they are."
After watching it, she was right. If you've got to be in that bad a situation, you can only hope to have the grace that this family does going through it all. Sure, they go a little off here and there with some feel-good stuff, but I'll give them the pass. If you can come out of this thing not only alive, but able to recognize and celebrate the good that still exists in life - if you can even find it in you to do that - then, well, you've got something.
This whole thing has depressed me. I've written enough about it. It's just that you see something like that, and where do you go from it? I guess to where it always ends up, with the same old truth: life's not fair. People are always saying that life isn't fair, and you hear it all the time, how people are wronged, how good people get the shit deal in the end. Well you know what, it's true. Life isn't fair. It really isn't.
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