Death and Elections

Not entirely as awful as you might imagine

So Liam Payne, formerly (and forever in my heart and ears) of One Direction, died suddenly on Wednesday. As is meet and proper, I got the news from Rob Sheffield and then felt a wave of grief-tweets and checkin texts wash over me for the next few days. I hadn’t followed Liam’s career much in the last few years, and I understand that he may well have gotten up to some pretty awful, abusive behavior, and can only hope that those he hurt are getting the care they need, that the loved ones he leaves behind are supported and loved, and that in death, he knows the peace that clearly eluded him in life.

I always figured that he and Louis Tomlinson would find their way back to each other and to co-writing songs. Or that he’d lay claim to being a top light entertainer, the kind of universally beloved TV personality / warm and witty song-and-dance man who seem to flourish in the UK.

I don’t think I have any original insights to share on the subject of his death; I’m mostly just left feeling sad and wondering for what feels like the tenth time this year alone if fame isn’t more of a scourge than any kind of goal worth pursuing, particularly for people who become famous young. It seems dreadful enough that perhaps we should consider regulating fame for people under 18 with some kind of formal protective guardianship outside of the young person’s immediate family? It’s probably impossible, but it should be equally impossible for talented young people to resort to substance abuse to get themselves through endless tours, and eventually come to tragic ends barely into their 30s, obliging their parents to fly thousands of miles to recover their bodies, and their children to grow up minus a parent.

A handful of links to things that have been both wrenching and little glints of light for me this week:

Rob Sheffield’s remembrance in Rolling Stone. Rob always pours his whole heart into pieces like this.

Zayn’s immortal response to Liam encouraging him to enjoy a couple of days off at home with his family: “I’ll try, but I’ll miss you too much, Liam!”

Louis Tomlinson’s tribute post on Instagram — all of the notes from Liam’s former bandmates broke my heart, especially for the regret they express. Absent the structure of recording together and touring, it must have been really easy for each of them to spin off into his own orbit and just not be in touch routinely. And then once you’re not in touch regularly, you might not get back in touch regularly, and time passes and and and. Despite Louis and Liam getting closer post-hiatus, his comments hit the hardest for me, because they remind me of all the loss he’s already had to absorb in his life, having to bury both his mother and one of his sisters before he even turned 30.

There’s been a ton of Andrew Garfield content out there over the last week or two, thanks to the press tour he and Florence Pugh have been on to promote We Live in Time, and serendipitously, he’s incredibly good at talking about grief and sadness. His conversation with Elmo on Sesame Street is perfect for grievers of all ages.

In digging up Andrew Garfield clips, I re-found Stephen Colbert’s extended interview with Rob Delaney, talking about A Heart That Works, the memoir he wrote about grieving his son Henry, who died of brain cancer when he was about three years old. I haven’t been able to crack that one open yet, but I have the feeling it’ll be funnier and lovelier than I imagine.

Meghan Nesmith’s thoughts on grieving what isn’t yours and the ways that the purely soul-nourishing early period of fandom and the weightier, more nuanced aspects of later period fandom intersect with and contradict each other, and are two sides of the same coin. I’m so sad Liam is dead, and so grateful to have found One Direction at the time that I did.

What a light in the darkness they were for me in that bleak post-election winter of 2017. My gratitude for their music and antics pale in comparison with the gratitude I have for the friendships that those lads’ music and joyful, mischievous antics brought into my life and deepened over time. Those songs, those friendships are still so important — thanks, guys. Rest easy, Liam.

Speaking of the election

Above, bringing back a stone classic by Libby Vander Ploeg

I know. I know. I’ve been having to scrape and claw up any capacity to do something worthwhile this election cycle. I couldn’t canvass this summer or early fall, and since getting home from England, have had to hustle my patoot off¹ to get paid work, and now I’ve accepted maybe more work than I should have, and and and. That’s not going to matter in the long term, though, so in an attempt to psych myself up earlier this week, I reread some TBD back issues from 2018 and 2020. Surprisingly, they helped!

I’m re-sharing them here in case you need something like the Coach Taylor-style pep talk from Trick or Treat People With Kindness or A Blue Wave Worthy of Hokusai², which documented get out the vote efforts of a whole bunch of Dames Nationals.

—> I’d love to run a 2024 edition of this in two weeks, so if you’re volunteering in any capacity to help get Dems elected this cycle, smash reply and let us know about it! <—

Reading about what other people — even when the other person is yourself from 6 years ago — are doing can be a helpful spur to action, and have got me signing up for text-banking and final mile canvassing the weekend before Election Day. Even small things count!

1. Well, only a bit of it, having an abundance of patoot makes hustling it entirely off unthinkable, which is just as well. Gotta have something to sit on & fill out my pencil skirts!

2. I’m still obnoxiously and unrepentantly proud of that issue title.