By Dana Armstrong
It happened on Sunday, November 8, 2020—the passing of a man who seemed immortal.
On the surface, it sounds overdramatic. How could the death of a game show host I never personally knew possibly affect me so deeply? But for me and countless others, Alex Trebek was more than the host of Jeopardy. He was a celebration of learning and an ever-present connection to those we bonded with over the course of those sacred 30-minute intervals every weekday. His impressive 36-year consistency saw many of us through significant phases of our lives. Alex Trebek was not just a man, but an era, and one that many of us were not keen on letting go of in an already tumultuous year.
Alex Trebek seemed like a surrogate grandfather to a nation that, for a while, wasn’t even his own. His subtle hints of not being American in every pronunciation of “genre” and every scoff when contestants failed to answer a Canada-specific clue was a trait just mysterious enough to keep us intrigued. Though he rarely shared his personal life on the show, he thrived in championing the achievements and quirky shenanigans of his contestants. His subtle digs and snippets of wisdom he imparted on them during their brief interviews each show always came out of places of respect, kindness, and encouragement. He was a man too pure and God-like in a time riddled with fake news and false claims. He provided instant and judgement-free fact-checking—for the most part, but let’s be honest, even the sassier corrections always felt welcome.
Throughout my childhood and into my budding young adulthood, he was one of the few points of consistency and reassurance in an ever-changing world.
One of the only instances of bullying I ever experienced was during fourth and fifth grade when a girl repeatedly taunted that I was a “nerd.” At the time, it affected me more than I care to admit. But, ironically, it’s a title I now embrace with an only slightly dampened pride. Jeopardy was one of the only almost prime-time, grown-up shows that kept me interested as a kid. Not only did it monetarily reward intelligent people, but it celebrated nerdiness in such a natural way. The contestants’ intelligence was never mocked or glorified. If anything, it rewarded those who weren’t afraid of sharing their knowledge and answering first. It was inspiring and comforting as a little girl who second-guessed whether or not she should raise her hand in class over fear of being perceived as ‘too smart’. And as the years went on and I learned more in school, I was able to answer more clues. To this day, the thrill of correctly answering the Final Jeopardy clue or an entire category of clues that seems like it was curated just for me is unmatched.
But I suppose my real love of Jeopardy stemmed from the fact that it was my grandmother’s favorite show. She watched it as religiously as she attended church. And, because of that, my family always knew to avoid calling during the 7:30 to 8:00 p.m. time frame unless we wanted to go straight to voicemail. During one of the few overnight stays at her house, I fondly remember her with her legs perched up beside me on the opposite side of the sagging couch. Her arthritic fingers laced together in a pensive clasp upon her lap. The blue light of the Jeopardy set emanated into the darkening living room from her tiny television and reflected in her glasses. Even when I lost my grandmother in middle school, Alex stayed on my television every night. In every moment when I wanted to feel closer to her, I knew I could tune into Jeopardy at 7:30. Alex would still be there, and the game would progress as unchanged as when my grandmother watched it. For 30 minutes, I could pretend she was watching with me too.
In college, Jeopardy helped me make one of my closest friends. Freshman year was rough for me, and I avoided communal dorm life to an embarrassing degree. My soon-to-be friend and I were similarly anti-social in our shared dorm building. I only plucked up the courage to talk to her more when I realized we both frequented the nearby dining hall right before the dinner rush like clockwork on certain days. We started sitting together in the dining hall and soon realized we both loved Jeopardy. Eventually, that led to an occasional treat where we’d transition from the dining hall to our dorm rooms to watch Jeopardy together. It was a tradition we continued long past our freshman years.
So, in March 2019 when Alex revealed he was battling pancreatic cancer, naturally she was the first person I turned to to sympathize with. I don’t know whether it was the conviction and positivity behind Alex’s announcement or my blind optimism and tendency for denial, but I believed Alex was too strong to possibly lose to such a fickle foe as cancer. After all, even throughout a once-in-a-century pandemic and chemotherapy, he continued hosting with an unwavering grace. One of the undeniable highlights of being stuck at home for the bulk of 2020 was that I was able to watch Jeopardy with a consistency I hadn’t enjoyed since high school. Though my friend and I were separated from each other and overwhelmed with college coursework, the show could be our moment of intermission and connection.
And that’s why November 8, 2020 caught me so off guard. I learned the news moments after signing off a three-hour Zoom meeting for school. Initially, all I felt was shock. Then, a repressed grief I hadn’t felt since the loss of my grandmother flooded back at full force for the remainder of that one day. For others, it was just another tragic celebrity death in a difficult year. For me, it meant another one of the few remaining pieces of my grandmother and my childhood had chipped away.
Now as I write this, it’s still hard to accept his loss. True to form, he’s continued to appear on my screen just as regularly as he has for my entire life. Sometimes I try to look for signs that he’s nearing the end—a gravelly voice, his face appearing more bloated one day—just to provide some sort of closure, but I know that’s no way to honor him. Alex Trebek was a humble and gracious man with a duty to the truth that I’ll always aspire to as an up-and-coming journalist.
In an interview at the beginning of 2020, Alex Trebek said for his final show he only wanted “30 seconds at the end of the program to say goodbye.” His final show was originally scheduled for December 25th, but now Alex will see us through the rest of this year. The new date for his final episode will be January 8, 2021. A memorial series of Alex’s best moments will run from December 21st through 25th—the very week of Grammy’s birthday.
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