I suppose I was around 10 years old, and an avid old movie fan, when I watched a movie on TV that  had  the most  handsome man I had ever seen in my short life as the lead actor.  I was smitten for life.  That movie it turns out was Paul Newman's least favorite,  the "Silver Chalice" for which he placed an ad in the New York Times apologizing for his performance in it.  It didn't matter to me, he was the most magnificent creature on two legs,  in a toga or otherwise. 

I continued my "love affair" with Mr. Newman throughout my teen years and while others were singing the praises of Brando and Heston,  I was never fickle.  At around the age of 12,  I taped a photo of Mr. Newman on the wall of my closet, behind my hanging clothes, not so much because I was embarrased at my crush, but because it made it so much more personal not to broadcast it by pasting it on my bedroom wall.  That photo remained on my closet wall for many years, even after I left home to go out on my own.

One day, in my early twenties and after I had relocated to Los Angeles, I stopped in a supermarket in Malibu with my young daughter after a day at the beach, and as I was perusing the aisles I heard my little girl say loudly "Hi, man!" and I looked up to my astonishment to see Mr. Newman standing there, blue eyes more piercing than I could have ever imagined, in his racing jump suit with his name emproidered on it, and a case of beer under his arm.   He said to my daughter, "Hi, yourself!"  "Boy, you're a real cutie."  Then turned to me and said, "Hi, mom'",  before turning away, leaving me speechless, and in awe, never imagining in my life that I would have had an encounter like that.  I wanted to say, "Wait!", don't you know I've loved you all my life, Mr. Newman?", or, "Mr. Newman, you're my favorite actor.", or "Mr. Newman would you sign an autograph for me?", but somehow it just seemed too shallow, too much of an imposition, and I've had to be satisfied with the fact that I was luckier than most average people who never have that kind of contact with a favorite actor. 

Later in my life I came to admire him for his great generosity of character, and his philanthropy,  as much as his great gift as an actor, which I don't think was ever appreciated enough in Hollywood.

I am sad that he has left us, and can only hope that at the end he did not suffer too much. My condolences are to his whole family, and I hope they know that his family of admirers morn with them.