But Enough About Me--Let’s Talk Dean, Gene, Audrey

I am a member of the most self-absorbed generation of spoiled rotten brats ever to come down the pike. If you don’t believe me, ask anyone over 55 or under 30. They’ll confirm what I’ve just said. I’ll go you one better: I could be the poster boy for the generation, because I don’t care about you, you or you. I only care about me, me, me. Look how many times I used the word ‘I’ in just this one paragraph.

Somehow, the generation born after World War II evolved from a bunch of frolicsome tykes into a group parody. We take shots from both Generation Xers and senior citizens and don’t even bother to defend ourselves. Why should we? We don’t care. That’s part of our thing.

That, at least, is the conventional wisdom about us. We’re so laden with labels and slogans attached to us (more so than any in history) that it’s amazing we can walk upright. Almost all of them are self-directed. It reminds me of the comic whose doctor told him he was narcissistic, to which the comic replied: “It’s not that I don’t think about other people. It’s more like, ‘There are other people?’ ”

All right, so we’re a little selfish and pampered. It’s too late now to try and salvage our reputations, but one rap against us should be wiped off the boards. That’s the rap that we canonize our own generation’s celebrities to the exclusion of all others, particularly those of our parents’ era.

Where did this get started? I think it would surprise some of our elders to know us pups do recognize their generation.

Some recent deaths got me thinking about it. First, there was Dean Martin. Then came Gene Kelly. Then, Audrey Meadows.

More and more often, I find myself talking to friends my age about the “great stars” who are dying off. We loved the idea of George Burns turning 100. Perhaps much like folks at Leisure World, we Boomers sit around and make up lists of how many “greats” are still left.

Each of the three dearly departed is a case in point. Dean Martin had been out of the public eye for years, and I wasn’t even a huge fan when he was active. Yet, I liked the guy and was genuinely saddened when he died. Adding up the career--from straight man to crooner to “Matt Helm” to variety show host--made me ask who today can put together a package like that.

Gene Kelly was an acknowledged superstar, but I had never even seen “Singing in the Rain” and couldn’t speak intelligently about his career. But, like with Dino’s, his death caused an undeniable sadness, a loss not only of a person but of an era. I was happy to see my thoughts on the subject reinforced when “Nightline” devoted a program to Kelly’s career.

Audrey Meadows hit with even more impact. Oddly enough, she was the only one of the three who didn’t make the front page when she died. She was a front-pager to me, though, because the TV life she and Jackie Gleason lived on “The Honeymooners” more resembled that of mine and my friends than the other sitcoms of the era. Audrey’s Alice Kramden was the most fleshed-out of the TV wives, and maybe because she was more real to me, her death had a more personal and poignant feel to it. The exchange of glances between Alice and Ralph is a TV memory that will never fade.

Anyway, as a group, the three represent something from our baby boomer lifetimes that we know can’t be replaced. I don’t know who our generation’s Dean Martin or Gene Kelly would be; it’s easier to say we don’t have one. You could argue that Audrey Meadows has contemporary counterparts (Roseanne comes to mind), but please explain to me why I loved “The Honeymooners” and have never watched “Roseanne.”

When I told a thirtysomething friend about these musings, he suggested we lament their passing because it previews our own mortality. What he means is, the Grim Reaper’s sickle swings in a wider and wider arc.

That makes us sound self-absorbed again, doesn’t it?

Rats. I didn’t want it to come across that way.

This time, I think our generation has a motivation that is totally unselfish. We don’t miss these people because we are now on a shorter list. No, I’d like to think of it as a reaching-out to our elders, a handshake from our generation to theirs, and our way of letting them know that we’ll miss their icons--perhaps not as much as they do--but for the very same reasons.

Dana Parsons’ columns appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at the Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.