Twilight of the Icons…

Recently, I found out that "The Barber" in my hometown of Snellville had retired.  Yes, Snellville has many people that could cut hair, but there was only one true barber.  Kenneth Dalton, better known by his nickname of “Peanut”, finally took down his shingle and turned out the light on his barber pole on New Years’ Eve after cutting hair in Snellville for over 5 decades.  Getting your hair cut by Peanut was more than just a hair cut; it was a rite of passage for any male of the town.  He had been cutting hair in Snellville for nearly two decades before my family moved there; he would cut hair there for nearly another two decades after I had left.  The town grew from a small intersection on the way from Atlanta to Athens to one of the major suburbs of Atlanta.  We wish Peanut the best in his well-earned retirement.

Peanut is just another example of beloved iconic figures over the last several years, local and national, that have been around for so long that their departure often leaves a void that cannot be so easily replaced.  Dick Clark. Larry Munson. Ernie, Skip, and Pete. Pat Summerall. John Madden. Willard Scott. Chick Hearn. Johnny Most. Jack Buck. Harry Carey. Jerry Lewis. Ernie Harwell. Even Vin Scully is not immune to Father Time, as 2016 will mark his final season behind the booth calling Dodger Games. You can come up with even more names I am sure.

Many younger than me may not understand the romanticism some of these names have, especially as they look as how some of the “icons” of our past are now being exposed as less than perfect people.  They see Bill Cosby as a rapist, for example.  They see Hulk Hogan as a racist.  Jared from Subway is a child molester.  What skeletons are hiding in the closets of other larger than life figures, they wonder. They care less about the changing of the guard, thinking it’s time to kick the old guy/broad to the curb to make way for Ryan Seacrest or Miley Cyrus or someone they can identify with. 

They are critical about things like the new Star Wars movie.  It’s just a rehash of the original movie, they say.  They do not understand why old fogies like me enjoy the movie or what we see in the new movie that makes us feel good.  They do not understand why we cheered to see Han and Chewie again, or Leia or Threepio or The Falcon or you-know-who at the end. 

Point is, many of us want to see our icons one more time.  We’re willing to see Motley Crue, even at this stage of their lives one last time.  Or Sir Paul McCartney.  Or Jimmy Buffett.  We know they will not be with us forever.  We want to enjoy them, even if they can only do half of what they used to do before they move off the stage of life.

One day, maybe the younger generation will understand.  Maybe they will appreciate iconic figures who have real talents.  Maybe.  For us, however, we appreciate those who have spent many years giving us the sound bytes (and even a haircut or two) of our youth and adulthood.  The last voices from our formidable days are heading off into the sunset of life.  Let us pay homage to those icons while we still can.