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Kaffeeklatsch: Double Espresso in Khaki Shorts

eebee's picture

Inspired by Tim's recent InlineCafé posting and the concluding sentiment "Money doesn't buy happiness. But happiness isn't everything.", I feel a strong urge to spill some cyberguts about that double-espresso shot in Khakis, Steve Irwin.


Since the moment I learned of Steve's death last Monday at 2am, and after all my indignant yelling at the Yahoo! news headlines had died down, I have been walloped every waking hour with a reality fist as powerful as the Croc Hunter's personality itself. With each clobber comes a truth. What lights your fire in life? Find it! Catch fire! Ignite others! Do it now! Life is short! The heck with money! Do what you love and the money will (or may) follow! Be yourself! We live in a beautiful world - let's take care of it!


I realize now that my fascination with Steve Irwin was never about the Crocs, but always about his energy levels. What a treat. I also realize that a female version of him would probably annoy the living daylights out of me. My prayers go out to his wife, Terri, and the kids with every hourly wallop.


Desperate solutions raced through my mind in the hours following his death. Waddaya mean he's dead? He's not dead!! He doesn't die! He escapes every close call! He'll escape this one, too, you watch! How about a heart-transplant! Can't they resuscitate him, keep him alive artificially until a heart-donor comes along? Come on Steve, it's time to revive yourself and call all this just a bad nightmare. Every morning this week, however, those pesky perky news anchors confirm the worst. He is gone, now.


I'm so mad at death. And I'm mad at cable TV for getting me hooked on the high of Irwin and his nature programs, just to lose him again. Gotta blame something. I was cheesed off at the untimely death of Princess Diana (yeah! I know, most American's don't care about that), but I feel like I have about as much in common with a Royal as I do a Crocodile, save perhaps my elbows. Steve Irwin, however, was a regular guy, nature boy and surfer dude, who literally got down in the muck. Pow! There's another clobbering! He was loved by millions, possibly billions, the world over, for being a very enthusiastic regular guy.  


A few hours before hearing that the world had lost its most effervescent conservationist, I was listening to a segment on NPR, called "This I Believe", submitted by Vickie Milazzo. She was reflecting on her decision to grab life by the horns and start her own business, and states "I won't end up at my 90th birthday with nothing more than stale white cake and regrets. Bad things can happen when we step out, but I believe worse things happen to our souls when we don't."


So long, Steve. Your bubbly exhilaration was as glorious as the wildlife you lived and died for.


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