THE MISFIT
further explained.
Those nagging questions from Saturday afternoon have
generated a lot of email. Some of it thoughtful, much of it thoughtless. (Why
I continue to be amazed at the lengths to which people will slink to take or
invent perceived offense at things I did not actually write, I do not know.)
But enough of all types has arrived that I thought it worthwhile, both for the
fans and for the critics, to further explain at least a few
points.
The target of any scorn or criticism in that post was not Professor Pausch, but the maudlin, university- and media-fueled hero worship that whipped up around him. And the people -- not everyone, of course, but still plenty of them -- who, failing to find inspiration in their own lives, found it instead on YouTube.
That said, the Last Lecture was, by any objective measure, a self-indulgent cliché-fest. Professor Pausch talked about himself most of the time, dwelling on his own life and his own accomplishments and occasionally offering up advice that anyone who's been living and paying attention for more than fifteen years has already heard. The lessons labored. The language meandered. The length should have been cut by a third. And don’t even get me started on the PowerPoint.
It was not a great speech. It's perceived greatness came from the tragedy of Professor Pausch's situation, and from the admirable fearlessness he showed in the face of it. If that same speech had been delivered by someone who was not dying, no one would have paid any attention to it at all. You can not separate the speech from the situation, of course, but neither can one alter the grim realities of the other.
I don't, of course, fault Randy Pausch for the lecture or for its focus; it was, as he freely admitted, not intended for a massive audience at all. It was intended for his wife and his friends and his students and especially for his kids. And so it should have been all about him and his life and accomplishments. For millions of people -- even in our introspection-free, reality-TV culture -- to pretend it was for their benefit is silly. For anyone to pretend it was a unique and profound statement on life well-lived is sillier still.
There are thousands of Randy Pauschs all over the world, facing death with the same kind of courage and dignity and fierce resolve. But they haven't been pimped by their employers, or by Diane Sawyer and Oprah Winfrey, or by a mass media looking for one more ratings-boosting sob story to tell and tell and tell and finally milk dry, so we don't know about them. And I take great exception to the popular, oft-repeated notion that Professor Pausch was any more special or enlightening or inspiring than any of them. Just as I find great sadness in a culture that needed the sad story of an impending, untimely death shoved down its throat before many of its denizens could muster a fresh appreciation for the beauties and possibilities of their own lives.
Professor Pausch was a good guy — I met him once on campus, and liked him — and a loving husband and father. I’m terribly sorry for him, and especially for his family and friends who must live with his loss. But I’m not sorry for finding the frenzy that frothed up around him regrettable on almost every level. And neither am I sorry for lamenting, nor for calling out, all the people who read about him and watched his video and now want to pretend it's their loss too.
I imagine that the people who actually knew Professor Pausch will continue to be inspired by him for the rest of their lives. Just as I imagine that most of the people from across the country or around the world who've felt compelled, these past few days, to write on internet forums about themselves, and about how much his death affects and means to them, and about how inspired they are by his life and death, and about how anyone who doesn’t feel as they do must necessarily be some sort of cold, heartless asshole who lacks their abundant heart and insight and compassion, will give precious little thought to him or to his legacy one year from now. Much less five years from now. I also imagine that many people claiming now to be so moved and so altered will be hard-pressed to remember his name a decade from now. If only because they and their insatiable, self-righteous narcissism will have by then moved on to many more tales and tragedies and heartfelt inspirations to which they will look and see only themselves.
If some of those people do remember, and if they are still truly inspired, that's great. I'll be glad for them, even as I'll stand by my contention that it's a shame they were not so moved and inspired to live well long before they'd heard of Professor Pausch — if not by themselves and the lives they live, then at least by the people they actually know and love.
You know -- just as Professor Pausch was.
The target of any scorn or criticism in that post was not Professor Pausch, but the maudlin, university- and media-fueled hero worship that whipped up around him. And the people -- not everyone, of course, but still plenty of them -- who, failing to find inspiration in their own lives, found it instead on YouTube.
That said, the Last Lecture was, by any objective measure, a self-indulgent cliché-fest. Professor Pausch talked about himself most of the time, dwelling on his own life and his own accomplishments and occasionally offering up advice that anyone who's been living and paying attention for more than fifteen years has already heard. The lessons labored. The language meandered. The length should have been cut by a third. And don’t even get me started on the PowerPoint.
It was not a great speech. It's perceived greatness came from the tragedy of Professor Pausch's situation, and from the admirable fearlessness he showed in the face of it. If that same speech had been delivered by someone who was not dying, no one would have paid any attention to it at all. You can not separate the speech from the situation, of course, but neither can one alter the grim realities of the other.
I don't, of course, fault Randy Pausch for the lecture or for its focus; it was, as he freely admitted, not intended for a massive audience at all. It was intended for his wife and his friends and his students and especially for his kids. And so it should have been all about him and his life and accomplishments. For millions of people -- even in our introspection-free, reality-TV culture -- to pretend it was for their benefit is silly. For anyone to pretend it was a unique and profound statement on life well-lived is sillier still.
There are thousands of Randy Pauschs all over the world, facing death with the same kind of courage and dignity and fierce resolve. But they haven't been pimped by their employers, or by Diane Sawyer and Oprah Winfrey, or by a mass media looking for one more ratings-boosting sob story to tell and tell and tell and finally milk dry, so we don't know about them. And I take great exception to the popular, oft-repeated notion that Professor Pausch was any more special or enlightening or inspiring than any of them. Just as I find great sadness in a culture that needed the sad story of an impending, untimely death shoved down its throat before many of its denizens could muster a fresh appreciation for the beauties and possibilities of their own lives.
Professor Pausch was a good guy — I met him once on campus, and liked him — and a loving husband and father. I’m terribly sorry for him, and especially for his family and friends who must live with his loss. But I’m not sorry for finding the frenzy that frothed up around him regrettable on almost every level. And neither am I sorry for lamenting, nor for calling out, all the people who read about him and watched his video and now want to pretend it's their loss too.
I imagine that the people who actually knew Professor Pausch will continue to be inspired by him for the rest of their lives. Just as I imagine that most of the people from across the country or around the world who've felt compelled, these past few days, to write on internet forums about themselves, and about how much his death affects and means to them, and about how inspired they are by his life and death, and about how anyone who doesn’t feel as they do must necessarily be some sort of cold, heartless asshole who lacks their abundant heart and insight and compassion, will give precious little thought to him or to his legacy one year from now. Much less five years from now. I also imagine that many people claiming now to be so moved and so altered will be hard-pressed to remember his name a decade from now. If only because they and their insatiable, self-righteous narcissism will have by then moved on to many more tales and tragedies and heartfelt inspirations to which they will look and see only themselves.
If some of those people do remember, and if they are still truly inspired, that's great. I'll be glad for them, even as I'll stand by my contention that it's a shame they were not so moved and inspired to live well long before they'd heard of Professor Pausch — if not by themselves and the lives they live, then at least by the people they actually know and love.
You know -- just as Professor Pausch was.
Posted: Mon - July 28, 2008 at 09:43 AM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM