It’s not quite as funny as that episode of Family Guy where Death gets injured and Peter takes over, but I seem to have the skill to bring death to those I see on the television.
My first act of mortality came casually. I was 15 or so, scanning the magazine racks at one of the favorite hangouts on the Promenade. On the cover of a music magazine was the [rather large] face of Big Pun, and I made a remark of, “Man, I wonder how he can breathe; he’s so big! He looks like a giant baby.” My BFF was with me, and we giggled over the picture.
A week or two later, he was dead. My BFF called me and started off with, “Remember how we were making fun of Big Pun? Well…he died.”
Of course, I felt bad. It felt like I had issued the hit to my button men of health and they took him out.
Fast forward to 2005. Glenn and I were still dating at that point; we were chatting when I told him my Big Pun story. Then the words fly from my fingers: “It was completely random. Like if I mentioned Peter Jennings.”
World News Tonight on ABC came on with the announcement that someone is filling in for Peter Jennings. I panicked for a second, but realized that the Pope had just passed away and that he might be traveling to cover the funeral.
A few days later, Glenn sends me an email with a news link that breaks Peter Jenning’s announcement of being diagnosed with lung cancer. “You really did kill him” were the words that accompanied the link.
However, I take absolutely no blame in the tragic car accident that took the life of Nick Adenhart early this morning. Yes, I was there last night at The Studio Bar. Yes, I watched the Angels game with Glenn, Greg, Jeff, Reese, and Bill. Yes, I told my Peter Jennings story.
But I can’t take credit for this one.