He was twenty years older than I am but I nonetheless had a huge crush on Gene Hackman for decades. I think it was his smile and the way he was able to use his eyes to seem as though he was able to peer into a person’s very soul. Every single role that he played felt so real, so very him. He was a brilliant in his artistic expression which eventually led him to painting and writing novels.
It does not surprise me that Gene Hackman would be attracted to a concert pianist or that she would fall in love with him despite their thirty year age difference. He somehow never seemed to grow older on the screen. In fact it was always difficult to guess what his age actually was, at least until his later years when photos depicted a frail and bent over man who was almost unrecognizable.
Whether Gene Hackman portrayed a hero or a villain I adored him. He was an everyman with charisma. Somehow his image took over every scene in which he was featured. He never seemed like a fictional character, but rather a real human being with deep feelings. At least that is how he was able to portray his many characters. There was something both intense and whimsical about him.
It seems in keeping that Gene would settle down in Santa Fe, New Mexico when he decided to leave acting and concentrate on having a more private life. The quirky town suited him with its rugged whimsey and incredible beauty. It is a place where being yourself is always possible.
I had continued watching Gene Hackman’s films long after he left acting. I suppose that I never really thought about what he might be doing. He stayed alive for me in his many roles. It was shocking when I learned that he had died at the age of ninety six. Somehow I could not imagine him as an old man until I saw the last photos of him and his wife. It was difficult to see that the life in his eyes was gone and that his devoted spouse looked tired and perhaps even a bit worried.
Taking care of an older person requires boundless energy and patience. i should know because my father-in-law moved in with us about three years ago. Sometimes it feels as though the work that I now have to do has grown exponentially. I suppose that it only feels that way because I am no spring chicken myself at the age of seventy six and before his arrival my husband and I had very casual and loosely scheduled kind of life. my father-in-laws needs require a strict schedule more akin to the days when I was still working. Meals and medicines and laundry and cleaning follow the clock each day. It can be both tiring and demanding even as my husband and I do this out of love.
I suspect that the routines and responsibilities for Gene became every more challenging for his wife as his Alzheimer’s worsened and his health declined. We will never know how she contracted the hantavirus or if she even realized how sick she actually was. She ran errands and responded to emails throughout her last day on this earth. It must have been shocking and confusing for Gene to be alone in his home after she died in the bathroom with pills strew around her. I doubt he knew what to do. His state of mind must have been that of a small child left alone with no idea how to call for help or even to fully understand what was happening. It breaks my heart to think of him wandering around his home in his slippers for a week before he too died.
We have an aging population. The baby boomers like myself are growing older. More and more often I learn of contemporaries who have died. I have already lost many of my dearest friends. It can be difficult watching those we love suffering from strokes and heart attacks or losing battles with cancer. The losses come so quickly and so often that it might seem that we would become somewhat immune to death but that is not so. In fact, every loss takes a piece of who we are.
My grandfather lived to the age of one hundred eight. people congratulated him for his longevity and the fact that until the very end his mind was clear and strong. Sadly he grew weary of wondering how much longer he would be on this earth. He had lost his wife, his children and many of his grandchildren. it had taken a toll on him even as he remained stoic and optimistic. He soldiered on but admitted now and again that he would not mind if his life finally came to an end.
I suppose I mull over such things more these days than I once did. I have always felt immortal and yet my creaky knees and the spasms in my back slow me down and remind me that I am not the dynamo that I once was. Hearing about Gene Hackman and the horror of his final days tells me that I need to listen to my daughters more and begin to consider changing my lifestyle from total independence to relying more on their wisdom and suggestions for how to enter that last years or decades of my life. I will be looking for a balance that allows both them and me to feel free but also considerate of the limitations that I must inevitably accept.
For now I’ll keep writing and teaching and tutoring. I love to garden but can only engage in heavy lifting in small bites. Life is ever changing and I must be ready to play the roles that lie ahead. The tragedy of Gene Hackman’s end has given me a bit more pause. Nonetheless, I choose to remember Gene for the glorious gift of acting that he gave us all. I’ll be watching his movies over and over again. Rest in peace, sweet Gene with your beautiful and loving wife. You were and will always be my movie idol.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 