Dear Richard Simmons,
Everyone deserves the right to disappear ... right?
When I learned you dropped out of public life in 2014, I didn’t blame you. How could I? But like everyone else, I was curious.
So of course I listened to every episode of “Missing Richard Simmons” with rapt attention, waiting for an epiphany about your retreat from public life. Despite podcaster Dan Taberski’s sketchy and persistent efforts, however, no bombshells dropped. You just wanted to step out of the spotlight.
That is not to say I wasn’t disappointed, because I thought you were a great fitness icon, and I mean GREAT. I loved your shorty-shorts. I loved the way you practiced inclusivity before it was a thing. And you did it all for the very best reason: Anyone sitting at home feeling sorry for themselves couldn’t help but watch a clip from one of your videos and think, If everyone in that studio is sweatin’ to the oldies, I can at least get up off this couch and walk to the corner and back.
I loved that you did that one commercial, which was a perfect example of how you never took yourself too seriously. And Richard, I really loved the way you normalized homosexuality without saying you were normalizing homosexuality. Most of all, I loved the way you put on a sparkly tank top and gave people hope, even when they didn’t realize they needed it.
All that said, the reason you’ve been on my mind isn’t quite so sparkly; I’ve never felt the urge to withdraw as strongly as I do right now.
So many giant monsters are looming over me, over all of us. They wield long steely knives we can’t escape. Wars and wildfires get closer every day. Guns that were introduced in the first act are dutifully firing in the third act just like Chekhov mandated.
Then there’s the unseen enemies. It seems I get a new notice every week: We’re writing to inform you your personal information has been exposed. Lies and hatred to the left of me. Artificial intelligence to the right.
I am so tired, Richard. We’re all so tired.
Every week this keyboard looms before me like a giant boulder, and every week I sigh heavily and wonder what the hell I’m doing sitting in front of it. What’s the point? All the algorithms and bots sure seem to suppress links to my content.
Aside: I sure miss the days when we all used the Internet and social media as tools instead of the Internet and social media using us as tools.
Wouldn’t it just be easier to crawl underneath a giant metaphorical blanket?
I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve designated you as my guardian angel. Frankly, it seems like the perfect role for you in your reclusion. I like to imagine you smaller than life size and donning a tank top with ERIN spelled out in big sequin letters—a celebration of sorts. (Why the ever-lovin-hell not?) Of course you have a fancy bow & arrow and fabulous little wings fluttering from the backs of your shoulders as well.
You float over me as I languish in a pool of self pity. You exhale with exasperation at this sad scene before shooting one of your special guardian angel arrows straight between my eyes. It lands painlessly and immediately disappears with a sweet little poof! as my reaction blooms.
My brows knit with confusion. Then I hoist my miserable carcass up and head off to the keyboard where I peck away at the keys, digging into the content as best I can, and trying to unearth the nuggets that make grand things small and small things grand.
Aside: Hey, uh … maybe you could amp up the frequency on this maneuver, because boy do I need it these days.
While drafting this letter I discovered your Facebook page one day before you posted, “I have some news to tell you. Please don’t be sad. I am … dying. Oh I can see your faces now. The truth is we all are dying. Every day we live we are getting closer to our death.” You later explained that you’re not dying dying any faster than all the rest of us.
I’m glad about that, because just about everyone in the world needs a Richard Simmons guardian angel right about now.
Thanks for being mine.
Love, Erin
ps: I didn’t really follow your story after listening to the “Missing Richard Simmons” podcast. I had no idea there was a lawsuit over National Enquirer’s coverage of you and another over some goon tracking your car.
pps: I also just learned there is a short film about you starring Pauly Shore, presumably a precursor to a biopic for which you did not give permission.
ppps: Dunno, Richard, that’s a lot of activity for someone trying to give us the slip. Maybe being a recluse ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.
I am so tired too, Erin…SO tired!
GREAT piece! As always!! You seem to always perfectly say what I’m thinking! (Which I can never quite put into words myself)..Thank you!!! (((((HUG))))))