She Lived

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One thought recurs when I consider the life–and death–of Elizabeth Taylor: she really lived.

She may not always have been happy, she certainly was not always healthy, and she may not have been a perfect judge of character in her private life. But she graced the world with her ravishing beauty and glamor, reached great heights as a dramatic actress, and dedicated herself to humanitarianism. Notably, her causes–the rights of individuals with HIV/AIDS and, to perhaps a lesser but undeniable extent, the rights of Israelis–were not causes celeb or chic fads when she came on board, but issues that required a champion possessing that most rare of qualities: the character to be criticized and even demonized. It is perhaps her courage in this area I admire most.

She married eight times, bore three children, and adopted another. What perhaps she lacked in steadiness and sobriety as a wife, she reportedly possessed as a fiercely loyal friend.  She earned and experienced a great deal throughout her life.

Her death reminds me above all that mind, body, talent, spirit, and energy are meant to be used and experienced to their fullest. Life is no spectator sport.

In a world that all too often prizes conformity and expects gradual ossification of older folks, she did it her way. And kept on doing it – even later in life. I saw her once on Fisher Island, just off the coast of Miami, around 2000. She must have been about 68 then. She wasn’t lit up or surrounded by a crowd of paparazzi. She was walking along serenely, looking beautiful, alone at night. She looked happy.

Rest in peace.

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