A Voice of Sanity – RobertRinger.com

By Robert Ringer

Michael Jackson’s close friend Yuri Geller, talking to Fox News by phone after Jackson’s death, said that one time when Jackson was sitting on a couch in Geller’s living room, he asked the “King of Pop” if he was a lonely man. According to Geller, Jackson paused, then looked up slowly and said, “Yuri Geller, I’m a very lonely man.”

After decades of observation, I have concluded that Jackson’s sad response could have come from any one of millions of people. A lonely person’s giveaway is his eyes. No matter what happy disguises he may wear, his eyes betray him.

It brings back memories of John Belushi, Freddy Prinze, Andy Gibb, Marilyn Monroe, and, more recently, Anna Nicole Smith. We only know what we’ve read and heard about these tragic figures who were so revered by those afflicted with Tinseltown Derangement Syndrome, but what we’ve read and heard is pretty grim.

The truth about these false idols should give Americans hope as they watch government, in the coming months and years, push them from false prosperity into poverty. As the vacation cruises, golf outings, and fine dining continue to disappear from our lives at an accelerating pace, it’s helpful to remember that material wealth has failed to buy happiness for many of the rich and famous.

And what they all seemed to have in common was loneliness. Who but the most narcissistic among us would not trade fame and wealth for love? The tabloid crowd provides a lot of laughs for folks at the checkout counters, but their marriage-divorce … marriage-divorce … marriage-divorce cycles are not at all humorous.

When I think of Angelina, Britney, Lindsay, and Madonna, I think of loneliness. All of them appear to be Michael Jacksons waiting to happen.

I recall a brief encounter I had with Sammy Davis Jr. in the early 1980s when we were sitting next to each other on the dais at a charity event in Los Angeles. He was a warm and gracious man with many similarities to Michael Jackson — African-American, slight of build, multi-talented, and a life of nonstop troubles. In a birthday tribute to Sammy, Jackson sang the heart-wrenching song “You Were There.”

Years earlier, I had read Sammy’s memoir, Why Me? It just as easily could have been Michael Jackson’s memoir. In the book, Sammy was forthright about his addiction to a life of drugs, booze, chain smoking, kinky sex, and lavish spending.

One story, in particular, that I recall from Why Me? is about a multi-girl orgy Sammy had arranged to have set up in his hotel suite after a performance in Las Vegas. When he entered the bedroom, he found the girls already “engaged” with one another. He said it made him sick to his stomach, and he walked out of the room feeling like the loneliest man in the world.

But when it comes to loneliness, Elvis was The King. We’ve all heard his ex-friends talk about how, after every show, he would have parties in his hotel suite that lasted till dawn. The word from those closest to him was that he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone.

It’s no wonder that so many songs have been written about loneliness. People can relate. It’s a common problem. More often than not, I suspect that the songwriters and performers themselves feel very lonely.

Which brings me to Neil Sedaka. I don’t know how much loneliness he may have experienced in his life, but he sure grabbed us with his classic song Solitaire:

There was a man, a lonely man
Who lost his love, thru his indifference.
A heart that cared, that went unshared
Until it died within his silence.

And solitaire’s the only game in town,
And every road that takes him, takes him down.
While life goes on around him everywhere,
He’s playing solitaire.

And keeping to himself begins to deal,
And still the king of hearts is well concealed.
Another losing game comes to an end,
And he deals them out again.

Heavy words. Great songwriters write to a broad audience — and the audience for a broken heart and loneliness is very broad indeed. In the final analysis, perhaps all of us simply expect too much from life, thus setting ourselves up for disappointment when it fails to deliver the endless happiness we envisioned when we were young.

Nineteenth century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer summed up this discouraging reality when he wrote:

There is only one inborn error, and that is the notion that we exist in order to be happy …. So long as we persist in this inborn error … the world seems to us full of contradictions. For at every step, in great things and small, we are bound to experience that the world and life are certainly not arranged for the purpose of maintaining a happy existence … hence the countenances of almost all elderly persons wear the expression of what is called disappointment.

[From The Consolations of Philosophy, Alain de Botton]

Granted, Schopenhauer was not the kind of fellow you would have wanted to invite over for an evening of small talk and laughs, but he may very well have zeroed in on an underlying cause of the many early deaths that followed a meteoric rise to fame and fortune.

Weighing in on the Michael Jackson tragedy, Dr. Keith Ablow spoke of “people who are not at one with themselves,” mentioning the inability to feel comfortable with their age, gender, race, and sexuality, among other factors that contribute to their feelings of isolation. In other words, the inability to accept themselves as they are.

I think most of us would be far better off if we focused on getting to know ourselves better rather than placing so much emphasis on having an active social life. After all, if you can’t enjoy your own company, why should you expect others to enjoy it?

Fittingly, I shall defer to Thoreau for the final word on this subject: “I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”

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