Honey, ain’t it funny how a crowd gathers ’round anyone livin’ life without a net? – Petty, “Dogs On The Run”
Walking through my old hood in San Francisco, maybe twelve years ago, I came across a small hand-written note placed in the corner of an apartment window. “Jump and the net will appear.” I must have been in the middle of a temporary, run-induced endorphin rush or under the influence of the day’s first strong cup of coffee, because I pondered the words pleasantly for the rest of my way home. Not only did they have an encouraging, reassuring slant, somebody had actually taken the time to post them for public viewing. Then the coffee and endorphins wore off and I went back to my routine and forgot about it. Several years and jumps on, I can safely say that whoever wrote those words was full of shit. This isn’t to say that jumps aren’t necessary, or even advisable at times. It’s just that it could have been a better note.
“Jump and get it over with,” for instance. Makes neither pre-jump promises nor post-jump predictions, but emphasizes the importance of not torturing those around you. Or, “Don’t jump, but act like you did.” This is a modification of the Larry David philosophy. David quit his job writing at Saturday Night Live, decided it was a mistake, and showed up the next Monday morning like nothing had happened. It’s also an extension of “act as if,” which advocates walking around with a happy whistle if you’re clinically depressed, or eating like a bird even when you crave that half meatloaf under foil in the fridge. Surprisingly it works, but the flip-side is that it reaffirms life’s meaninglessness. (Which is OK, because you can still act as if life has meaning.) “Jump but make sure you have health insurance.” This one is via my mother, and quite possibly the only relevant jump note worth posting. As an adjunct and in closing, “Jump, don’t jump, but don’t blame your parents” says a lot, too.
Gary Coleman, who died today at 42, probably figured he had some kind of net under him when he became an overnight sensation back in the late seventies with scene-stealing cameos on The Jeffersons and Good Times. But his future, in the grand tradition of child stars, was to be much darker. It’s one thing to be an aging rock star, having to deal with your post-prime reality. But to be a forty year old man with a debilitating kidney condition, still trapped in a child’s body serving daily reminder of your renowned but long expired cuteness .. well try living with that. Coleman sued his parents as an adult, claiming they had mismanaged and blown the bulk of his trust fund and television earnings. He was mocked after taking a gig as a security guard, and sued by an autograph-seeking woman who said he assaulted her. Even in death, it’s not difficult to envision the myriad of “what choo talkin’ ’bout, Grim Reaper?” jokes floating around office water coolers. But the fact is, this guy led a hard, truncated life, and probably found relief at finding no net present this time around. Rest in peace, Arnold.
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