“I’ve never met a star of any kind who didn’t feel that the most important thing in their life was what we all share – love, family, respect of self and others,” writes ANTONIO DI DIO in his continuing Brief History of Kindness series.

ENNIO Morricone was a bit of a bugger. 

He wrote that unbelievable music for such films as “The Mission”, “Cinema Paradiso” and a slew of the Greatest Cowboy Movies of All Time (growing up in Sicily in the ’70s, my family and I all knew that Clint Eastwood was as Italian as “The Good The Bad and The Ugly”, right? Right!) 

He didn’t work any harder at his lessons with the Salesian Brothers and priests than kids like me. 

He didn’t get better grades in his music tests (the week before any such tests us boys would get a fearful motivational session from Don Gregorio about what happened if we failed. Pretty sure that Satyrs were involved and other minor cast members of Dante’s inferno. Over the years I’ve sometimes wished he’d come over and do his motivational schtick with the Brumbies). 

Morricone didn’t even get the 10,000 hours, I’ve heard. He just had whatever you want to call it – genius, the gift. A few other things, too – charm, intellect, supportive family, opportunity, a thriving Italian film industry (God and Hollywood both knew that the punters couldn’t wait for a little escapism). And when the opportunity came, he grasped it. And more – when he got to the top, unlike so many others, he had the work ethic and genuine spark of brilliance to stay at the top for over five decades. 

This came up yesterday, when I was entranced, bizarrely, by an unremarkable Foxtel ad for a boxing bout. Why? The music! Ennio’s stunning “The Ecstasy of Gold” from one of the spaghetti westerns’ symphonic climaxes almost drowned out the narration and turned the boofhead advertisement into art.

How do some people get brilliant? Why are gifts so unevenly distributed? And for those with talent, why are so many denied the opportunity to turn those gifts into a rewarding career, or at least a lovely hobby? Why do so few get recognised, and so many get to catch the 8am bus to Civic with a sandwich in their briefcase? 

Well, first of all, I’ve come across many artists and sportspeople and celebrities over the years, and what so many of them most desire is a steady job with a briefcase in Civic – no problem there.

But what of those who are just close enough to almost taste it? Some departed because they were almost good enough, some because they were but not judged correctly. Paul Gallen and Cam Smith captained opposing State of Origin and Grand Final teams in 2016, later that year playing for Australia together. Many years before, both had been sacked by their respective teams at age 20 and advised that they would never make it in sport. 

Others just lack chances, born the wrong colour, gender, shape or in the wrong decade or country. I know I could have opened the batting for Australia with just 400 years of intense training and a spectacularly corruptible selection system. 

This is what I know to be true, and it’s important in case you are wasting a second of your time thinking the slightest negative thought about getting stuck at the lights when the car of your life (mine’s a 1974, dung-brown Datsun 200B from Macksville Motors) reached the crucial crossroad of Talent Street and Opportunity Avenue. Don’t worry about it.

I’ve never met a star of any kind who didn’t feel that the most important thing in their life was what we all share – love, family, respect of self and others. And the things in life that matter seem to descend upon all of us in similar quantities anyway – and, fairly obviously, in greater quantities when we all treat each other better. 

I love Morricone’s music, the gifts he left the world. But I don’t want his life, not for a minute. 

What could make me happier than the family I have, this lovely, ugly, brilliant, dumb, melting pot Canberra. This life. Even the soaring majesty of Gabriel’s oboe will never move me as much as hugging my family and mates when somebody blows into that massive Viking horn as the Raiders run on to a cold Saturday pitch. 

I’m not calling for an acceptance of mediocrity, quite the opposite – I just mean that there is brilliance and wonder in every person I’ve ever met. The tragedy is never when a celebrity star falls, but when a single ordinary person fails to recognise how special they are themselves. 

Antonio Di Dio is a local GP, medical leader, and nerd. There is more of his “Kindness” on citynews.com.au