Please indulge me in two more thoughts about the Crocodile Hunter

I mentioned last night that one of the saddest moments of the Steve Irwin memorial service was when his fellow croc-catching mate loaded up his ute and drove it out of the arena. Here's a photo of the ute as it appeared during the service:

I'm so moved by this. What is left of a man? A truck, some canvas, a net or two, a surfboard. Why do these meaningless things endure while the most meaningful thing of all must leave? Certainly his legacy is his widow and his children, but there's an inherent cruelty in the permanence of possessions and the transience of being.

It's a notion that has haunted me for many years, since it was first articulated by the pile of victims' shoes in the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Inscribed on the wall above the 4,000-odd pairs: "We are the shoes, We are the last witnesses / We are shoes from grandchildren and grandfathers. / From Prague, Paris and Amsterdam / And because we are only made of fabric and leather / And not of blood and flesh, / Each one of us avoided the Hellfire". Of course I'm not comparing Steve Irwin's death to the Holocaust. But the concept of what remains behind once we are gone is the same. It's sad, and unfair. And it's unavoidable.

One last point: The photo also reminds me of how real Steve must have been. When a person attains a certain level of success and celebrity, often they leave the tasks for which they became famous for others to carry out. For example, Martha Stewart has an army of minions to do her cooking, cleaning, gardening, crafting, etc. Looks to me like Steve Irwin did his own work, in his own old ute, right up to the end. He had a team behind him, yes, but his car was just as he left it, ready for his next foray into far north Queensland. He didn't outsource his vision; he did it himself.

OK, enough. Tomorrow, I swear I am going to write about The Biggest Loser. The new season debuts tonight!

Fair dinkum

I just finished watching the Steve Irwin memorial service, and I have come to the official conclusion that, legally, I am not cynical enough to be a blogger.*

The service was heartbreaking. I sat on the sofa for nearly an hour, bawling. The dog was concerned. I'm not sure which moment was most devastating: Steve's father, Bob, asking us not to grieve for Steve, but rather for the animals -- who lost the best friend they ever had; Steve's daughter, Bindi, doing a brilliant job of reading a note for her daddy while displaying more poise than I exhibit on any average day; the sight of Bob, Bindi and Steve's sister feeding his three favorite elephants, who were brought into the service by Australia Zoo staff; a video of Steve's crying as a baby elephant touched his face with its trunk; Steve's "right-hand croc man" loading up Steve's ute, which was parked in the middle of the arena, and driving it out of the venue for the last time.

I weeped like a child during each of those moments. But I think the most devastating thing might be this. Interspersed throughout the program were video clips of Steve, as well as taped messages from all manner of celebrity. One clip showed Steve as a guest on Steve Harvey's radio show. Harvey told Irwin that he was "officially a brother" for his speed and agility, ostensibly in the service of bad-ass croc wrestling. A lesser man would have worked very hard to come up with a witty, clever, ironic response. With a gravitas and sincerity that is probably not often heard on Steve Harvey's radio show, Steve Irwin said something like, "I'm just a regular bloke from Australia. Your acceptance of me just goes straight to my heart."

Then, a message from Kevin Costner. Now, I am not normally in the habit of quoting Kevin Costner -- or believing in his words as somehow transcendent. However, he perfectly articulated what's been bothering me so much about the loss of Steve Irwin. He said that of all the fearless things Steve had done, the bravest was letting people see who he was. Because letting people see who you are opens you up to criticism and mockery. But he didn't care, because he knew that his truth was much bigger than whatever jokes people could make of him. Well put, Costner. And well executed, Steve. That's the kind of perspective you need to really make a difference amid the static and choas of this world.

Perhaps that's why people liked him so much, because he wasn't afraid to be honest, positive and enthusiastic in a world where cynicism and bitterness reign. There's a dorky little kid inside all of us who still secretly loves snakes or geology or butterflies, though we may not get the opportunity to explore or exclaim that passion because we are too busy peppering our daily conversations with measured mixtures of detachment, irony, cleverness and wit. Steve was that dorky little kid, and he didn't have to hide anything behind anything. Imagine how liberating that must be; is it any wonder he was so happy? And what does it say about us that many of us thought he was too happy, too gushing?

The worldwide outpouring of emotion following Steve's death has been an "acceptable" chance for the mirthful reptile geeks in all of us to let loose. For example, check out these University of Florida students:

Maybe they only like him because he liked crocodiles and they are Florida Gator fans; I don't know if they are even the ones who put the sign there. Still, this photo strikes me as particularly poignant. If you had asked those kids two weeks ago how they felt about Steve Irwin, they might have been too cool to give you a straight answer. But that poster had to get there somehow. I imagine those fine students waking up early at their fraternity house to go to Kinko's and pick up their Steve Irwin tribute poster, then trekking to the hardware store for a few roles of electrical tape to affix it to the stadium wall. Really, they ought to be hungover or something instead. But that's the thing about true blue honesty -- people understand it; people celebrate it. They are relieved that someone has put aside the affectation and artifice to be real, even if it is just for a moment.

I haven't even touched on my pride in a nation for seeing Steve off in style and with the kind of dignity and love that only Australian mateship can provide. John Howard wasn't exaggerating when he told Terri and her children that there are "20 million pairs of Australian arms reaching out to you today." Good on all of you.

And Steve, good on you, too.

*Though I would like to state that Justin Timberlake taped a video message that was played during the memorial service. And he is bringing sexy back! So I can't be that uncool....

Why I am upset about Steve Irwin (even though I did not particularly like him)

As everyone from Cairns to Surfer's to Hobart to Torquay to Adelaide to Kalgoorlie to Perth to Darwin to Alice already knows, the Crocodile Hunter died Monday in a freak diving accident involving a stingray's barb and an unimaginable level of accuracy.

My heart just sank when my husband told me the news. And I didn't even really care for Steve Irwin, especially after that crocodile feeding/infant dangling incident in 2004. Yet....

My reasons for feeling so awful are seven-fold:

(1) He left behind those little kids.

(2) He is Australian and therefore would have been my mate if I had ever met him.

(3) People are idiots and will claim that he harassed the stingray, and/or people are idiots and will think that stingrays are evil villains -- a perception of "dangerous" animals that Steve Irwin spent his life trying to change.

(4) The animal kingdom lost a high-profile advocate. I can't think of many other people who could look at a snake and see "beauty." Yet there is beauty in every animal. Steve Irwin understood this.

(5) It's always extra-pointless when someone dies in a freak accident. It would have been "better" if he had been killed by a crocodile.

(6) Australians rally around their own and I just feel bad for the whole country.

(7) Like him or hate him, he was passionate. I've read that he was passionate about the big stuff (his wife, his family, his work, reptiles) as well as the small stuff (a delivery of mulch to the Australia Zoo). I totally get people who are passionate about things; a few months ago, I was totally excited about a mulch delivery to my house.

(8) The world needs larger-than-life personalities who are working for good.

The whole thing really has been bothering me. And although I am surprised to be typing these words, I will miss Steve Irwin. My heart goes out to his family and his little ones.