I’m not sure what to talk about today. It’s kind of been all over the place. Well, I’ve been all over the place. Literally. I woke up in Arkansas, and now I’m in Kansas City. Tomorrow is the total eclipse (of the heart), and my friends and I are supposed to be on the road in seven short hours. Currently I have a headache. I’m tired, and, although I didn’t realize it until just now–I’m sad.

Jerry Lewis died today.

When I was a kid, I loved Jerry Lewis. I don’t remember how it happened, when i first saw him, but there used to be a video rental store (with VHS tapes) in Van Buren, and it probably started there. My mom used to take my sister and me to rent movies, and Dee-Anne would rent Elvis movies, and I’d rent Jerry Lewis ones. Then I started collecting them. Somewhere (before the internet) I found a list of all his movies, and I’d mark them off as I’d order new ones or record them off Turner Classic Movies. There were dozens and dozens of them, and I watched them over and over again.

In 1990 a family friend helped me write to Jerry Lewis, and he (or someone in his office) mailed me a personalized autograph photo, a personalized autograph autobiography, and an MDA (Muscular Dystrophy Association) wristwatch. I used to keep them in a fireproof safe. I remember taking it with me out-of-town once when we went to visit a friend in Missouri. I carried it like a briefcase. I don’t think they got it. Other kids had baseball players for heroes. I had Jerry Lewis. I swear, I was the only kid I knew who had a t-shirt that said, “Hey, LAAAAAADY!” on it.

Not surprisingly, I was a virgin for a LONG time.

In high school, right about the time that dial-up and the internet were becoming popular, I saw Jerry Lewis on a talk show do something called The Announcer’s Test. It’s a tongue twister that used to be given to potential announcers at Radio City in order to check their diction and enunciation. It starts off, “One hen. One hen, two ducks,” and goes on like that adding numbers and random things until it gets to ten. I thought, I’ve got to learn that. So I took to the internet and found a guy named Charles in Canada who’d mentioned it on a forum, and I wrote him.

Well, Charles wrote me back and included The Announcer’s Test, and I memorized it. I can still repeat it to this day–even when I’m drunk (which is honestly funnier). What’s more, Charles and I are still friends. He’s probably the biggest Jerry Lewis fan I know. The above photo is one I sent him in 2002 when he requested my autograph (not because I’m famous but because he does that with friends). Of course, it reminds me of Jerry.

Well into my twenties, I collected Jerry Lewis memorabilia, things like old movie posters that were folded in squares because they used to put them inside the rolls of film sent to movie houses, even an autographed picture of Jerry Lewis AND Dean Martin from when they were still a team.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped staying up all night to watch the MDA telethon. By the time Jerry left (or was asked to leave) in 2010, I’d stopped watching it altogether. I’d catch little clips of his online, but I guess I’d moved on to other things, other heroes. I can’t say exactly what happened. I mean, I’d stopped playing with Legos too, stopped collecting Batman toys. Then when I had my estate sale last year, I decided it was time to say goodbye to Jerry altogether–the movies I hadn’t watched in a decade, the autographs that were collecting dust.

That decision took a lot of contemplation. I guess Jerry and my childhood were so intertwined, letting him go felt an awful lot like growing up.

It was just something I had to do.

When I saw the news this morning, I guess I was numb. Honestly, I’d watched some interviews with him over the last several years, and I thought he was sometimes an ass. Perhaps cocky is a better word. Hell, I’d probably be too if I’d had his life, but it took away some of the hero magic, seeing him human like that. This morning I read that he never felt like he was more than nine years old, that for him hearing an audience applaud was like hearing a roomful of mommies and daddies say, “Good boy, baby.” So maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe even talented heroes hurt, spend their whole lives healing.

Sometimes when I think about my childhood, I only think of the hard times, the things that fucked me up. But when I think of Jerry, I’m reminded that parts of my childhood were so happy, so good, so creative. My childhood was encouraging. It was funny. I remember laughing–a lot.

Before I left for Kansas City this afternoon, I rifled through my closet until I found a folder in one of my boxes. I thought, If I DID keep that autograph, this is where it would be. But it wasn’t. No, it’s definitely gone–he’s definitely gone.

I definitely grew up.

I suppose we all do this some days–try to hang on to our childhoods. We let go of our heroes, then maybe we spend an hour on YouTube the night they die watching video after video of them. Once again, they make us smile. So we try to stay young. We try to stop the inevitable. We hope somehow they’ll come back to us, makes us innocent again, return us to a time that was magic. And yet these are the things we must learn to do for ourselves over and over again–let go, grow up, remember how to laugh–let go, grow up, remember how to laugh.

Each year when Jerry ended the telethon, he sang a song called “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” It’s opening line says, “When you walk through a storm, keep your head up high, and don’t be afraid of the dark.” This reminds me that the storms of life are inevitable. There will always be sad days with mixed emotions and final goodbyes. Knowing that storms don’t define us, they refine us, we walk on. What’s more, those who have made us smile, those who have made us laugh, walk with us.

[Rest in peace, Jerry. Thank you for my happy childhood.]