POSTSCRIPT
Remembering Music Legend David Crosby
The question isn’t how much time we have left — the question is, what are we going to do with that time?
Many words have been used to describe singer and songwriter David Crosby, who died earlier this week at the age of 81.
Rock star. Rebel. Brilliant. Curmudgeon. Legend. Hippie. Asshole. Sweetheart.
Undoubtedly, Crosby was all those things to different people at different times throughout his incredibly fruitful yet tumultuous life; however, I have yet to hear anyone describe the man as human.
Maybe it’s the very nature of celebrity itself — this idealistic, unreasonable notion that exceptionally talented people are somehow more than human. Certainly, during their living years, we tend to place them on pedestals and elevate them to insanely great heights, and then when they die, we enthusiastically glorify or vilify them.
Rarely do we simply humanize them.
For more than five decades, David Crosby was a legendary musical force with which to be reckoned, and yet in more ways than not, he was also an ordinary man whose long, storied life was replete with stratospheric highs and unfathomable lows.
