Remembering Bernie Mac

Bye Bye Bernie

I seldom watched the Peabody Award-winning "Bernie Mac" show on Fox Television. But, when I did, I considered the format brilliant. Bernie Mac, producer and star, depicts his efforts to be a responsible parent.

The basis for the show is Bernie's reluctant decision to raise his sister's three children after she checks into rehab. He was always real. For example, he would lean into the camera and express his desire to smack some sense into his sulky teenage niece or his adolescent nephew. I can relate!

Bernie's dilemma is how to (or whether to) modify his "grass roots" child rearing to suit his middle class status. He often finds himself at odds with or defending his parenting style to (usually, white) school officials and teachers, parents, and others.

I Ain't Scared of You (Pocket Books/MTV Network 2001), a memoir of Bernie's early upbringing and career, is caustic, irreverent, and filled with profanity. But, it is so funny that while reading it, I'd find myself laughing out loud in public.

In his film career, I don't think that Bernie ever found the best venue for his talent. After all, Hollywood isn't about breaking new ground. Still, he is among those rare actors whose name can draw me to a movie despite any qualms about its merits.

Most recently, Bernie was heckled at a Barack Obama fundraiser for what some considered off-color remarks. No doubt, they were; but does anybody remember Stephen Colbert's scathing roast of George W. Bush at the White House Correspondents' Association's Dinner in 2006? Critics charged that the Comedy Central star had "crossed the line."

Well, duh, that's what comedians do. Throughout their careers, George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Lenny Bruce, and Dick Gregory pushed the limit of what's appropriate, "politically correct," or socially acceptable.

Bernie's premature death at 50 robs us of a comedy giant whose delivery was loud and abrasive, but so reminiscent of the humor in my own family--down to earth, truth-telling, and brilliant.

Edwardian Error

Like millions of Americans, I was surprised, yet not shocked, when John Edwards, former senator and Democratic presidential candidate with dark good looks and squeaky-clean image, admitted that he'd cheated on his wife. His extramarital affair is the latest among politicos whose private lives have become public: New York State's former governor, Eliot Spitzer, and his predecessor Basil Patterson. Some pundits argue that public servants should not be judged harshly because, after all, they are "just human."

Others believe that voters have a right to expect officeholders to, at the very least, be honest about lapses in judgement when asked. Edwards denied and denied. I am divided about my reactions. I do understand stone throwing. However, I empathize with Elizabeth, his wife of 31 years, battling cancer and facing humiliation in the national spotlight.

Recently someone in my own family found out about an infidelity. So, I know firsthand, how it can rip the heart out of a marriage. No amount of verbal remorse can easily repair the ripped fabric of trust. Marital dreams suffocate under questions of "why?" The idea of an "us" crumbles. Of course, many marriages can survive such betrayal, and I hope the Edwards' union can be healed.

On his website, Edwards says: "...we have a moral responsibility to each other and what we do together matters. We must do better if we want to live up to the great promise of this country." The same could be said of his marriage.