Roadhouse, Dirty Dancing, Next of Kin, Ghost. All feel-good pop culture flicks of our generations, and all made popular by Patrick Swayze. I can't say I ever considered Swayze a "great" actor, but certainly he had a swagger and bravado all his own.I followed Swayze's recent battle with pancreatic cancer through the televised soundbites, and must admit to a twinge of sadness upon first hearing the news. I mean, c'mon ... this was Mr. Roadhouse! He starred with my all time favorite actor, Sam Elliott, in a cult-flick that just had what it took to be a hit at the time. Corny? Sure, absolutely. But who cares? I never expected the greatest literary experience when I watched a Swayze movie. I expected the pretty boy to entertain me.
I admired Swayze's commitment to his wife (evidenced by a 30+ year marriage), as well as his ability to avoid the tabloids and lead a relatively private life. Just stroll through a supermarket checkout aisle, and you know how difficult that must be. I always felt he was a little bit cocky, a little arrogant, if you will, and the book only reinforces that at times. But it's hard not to admire someone who faces pancreatic cancer with the attitude of, "I'll just be damned if this son of a bitch is going to beat me. It's trying to kill me, but I'm going to return the favor."
The Time of My Life is a quick and easy read and would make an excellent airplane book.
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