Finally, I understand why people say that those who pass away at a young age died “too soon.”
Prior to Monday, October 27, I would tell myself that those who died young simply passed away at their particular “time.” Even when someone passed away at an exceedingly young age—like the singer and actress Aaliyah Haughton, who perished in a plane crash in August 2001 at the age of 22—I’d rationalize it by saying that it was their time to go.
I cannot do that anymore. At the very least, I cannot do that now.
Dean Barnett is no longer with us. It was not his time. It could not have been his time.
Barnett, the brilliant pundit and talk-radio host who became one of the first true stars of the conservative blogosphere, passed away years before he hit his prime. We will never know how large of an icon he would have become.
What we do know is that he was a flawless writer who packed every column and blog post with humor and high intellect. Everything he wrote was must-read material. It’s hard to say that about even the most prominent political writers on both sides of the aisle.
It is a testament to Barnett’s greatness that I cannot recall even one subpar or substandard column he penned. He never had an off-day in terms of his writing. Some conservative writers are excellent. Barnett was
perfect.
I’ll never forget the quality of his writing, nor will I forget his wonderful appearances on
Hugh Hewitt’s radio show and Kevin Whalen’s
Pundit Review show on WRKO in Boston. Barnett’s Boston accent was a little difficult for non-Bostonians to adjust to, but once they did, they were rewarded with tremendous wit and insight. Barnett loved radio and never, ever put in a weak performance in either venue.
Officially, Barnett succumbed to cystic fibrosis. In reality, he beat the disease—not physically, but psychologically. He refused to allow illness to limit him, to place controls upon what he could and could not do. From a certain perspective, he put CF in its place, repeatedly overcoming the obstacles imposed by the malady. It is a tragedy—a horror, even—that the disease created one obstacle he ultimately could not overcome.
In addition to understanding why people believe in the concept of “dying too soon”, I also now understand why people can become angry at God. Anger at God doesn’t make logical sense, but I can now grasp why people would feel bitter under circumstances such as these. Why would God take Barnett and leave so many manifestly wicked people to walk this earth for decades to come? Couldn’t He have healed Barnett’s body, so that he could continue to do what he did with such skill and such wisdom?
There are no answers right now. There is only pain and grief—pain over Barnett’s passing, grief over the fact that he was forced out of this game with so much time left on the scoreboard. Had he lived, Barnett would have played a crucial role in restoring vitality and health to the American conservative movement. He had the intellect and the talent to pick up where William F. Buckley left off.
His passing, like that of Buckley and Tony Snow, leaves a wound in the body of American conservatism. Like Snow, Barnett was both a committed conservative and a warm-hearted optimist; with each radio appearance, each column, each blog post, he shattered stereotypes about the right. Even staunch progressives who read his
New York Times and
Boston Globe op-ed pieces had to give him their respect.
Although I was only six years old at the time, I can still remember seeing a news story about the murder of Marvin Gaye, and how shocked and saddened people were by his death. I feel that same shock and sadness now. The highest praise I can think of is to say that Dean Barnett was, without question, the Marvin Gaye of conservatism, a phenomenal artist who demonstrated his virtuosity in every word he wrote and every performance he gave. Like Gaye, he died years before he could produce his greatest work. However, the material he created was intellectually engaging, politically powerful, courageous and classic—material that people will enjoy for years and years to come.
Thank you, Dean Barnett. Thank you so very much for letting us know what’s going on.