I'm crying about Paul Newman's death at the age of 83. The death of an actor who lived a long and apparently happy life shouldn't strike me as a tragedy. But he was one of the gods of my personal pantheon.
Just to start out with, he was just about the most gorgeous, physically perfect men I have ever seen, and he stayed doable well into his 60s, at least. In a way, he was more doable in middle age, as age smudged his perfection in a way that made him seem more approachable.
There was the intelligence and good humor that shone through his acting. His charisma. His humbleness, the way he took on downtrodden characters and didn't depend on his looks. His famous loyalty to his wife. His family, the Newman's Own venture, his politics, the racecar driving, the way he seemed to be living well and fully for as long as possible. He seemed a man born with potential who did not squander it. I'm sorry to see his light flicker out.
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