THE BIG GOOD BYE

Over a long life certain people come in and out of that life that leave an impression. One of those people for me (maybe this says more about me than it does about him), was Tiny Tim. (The "singer," not the Christmas Carol Kid.)

For you younger readers Tiny Tim achieved his dubious fame in the late 60s. He was a tall, skinny, long-haired, ukulele strumming, falsetto who came to "fame" on TV variety shows "singing," as only Tim could sing, Tip Toe Through The Tulips. In 1969 he married his first wife, Miss Vicki, in front of 40 million viewers on the "Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson."

Tiny was performing in a room full of his fans in Minneapolis in 1996 when he died of a massive heart attack.

So why did TT's death so many years ago still stick with me?

In an interview after Tiny tipped his last toe, his third wife, Miss Sue, summed up his death by saying, "He died singing Tiptoe Through the Tulips. The last thing he heard was applause, and the last thing he saw was me."

I remember this because Herbert (Tiny Tim ) Khaury died doing what he loved, being rewarded for doing what he loved, and lying in the arms of the one he loved. Neat eh? I guess even a mediocre performance can be salvaged by a classy exit. In some ways I actually envy Tiny Tim.

ANGEL FROM MONTGOMERY

  I like music. I like the singer/songwriter John Prine, and I like his song, Angel from Montgomery. What's not to like about lyrics that say:

"If dreams were thunder, lightning was desire, this old house would have burned down a long time ago."

A house full of dreams and desires -- I like that too.

  Picture a house jammed wall-to-wall with dreams and desires of those who live there. A Norman Rockwell painting? Now that you've pictured it, what does a house full of dreams and desires sound like? Harder to imagine, isn't it? It's harder because so often our dreams and desires go unspoken, not just to others but to ourselves.

  Early in the life of our dreams, they may seem too fragile to expose to the outside world, so we hold them inside. When it's time to consider letting them out, we worry about what others will think. We over analyze; We commit "dreamicide."

  Without the energy derived from a passionate pursuit of dreams, what of significance gets accomplished in our lives? We are rewarded by society for performing skills effectively and efficiently. Precious few others in our lives seem to care what our dreams are, but that's no excuse for our not caring. As John Prine goes on to say:

"Just give me one thing that I can hang on to. To believe in this living is just a hard way to go."

  The living out of other people's dreams, resulting in a lack of personal passion, can also be seen in another line from Angel from Montgomery:

  "How the hell can a person go to work in the morning, come home in the evening, and have nothing to say?"

  That's not too hard to understand. Why would a person want to talk about unfulfilled dreams and desires? Why would a person want to talk about spending their unrecoverable hours fulfilling someone else's dreams and desires?

  If "dreams were thunder, lightning was desire" in your house, would your house be engulfed in a raging inferno, or would you just be inconvenienced by a slight warming trend?

  Our dreams are forged by the fire of passion or doused by the waters of indifference.