Many of us lost a dear friend and role model today. Lowell Lebermann died in his sleep at 70, mid-nap in his beloved summer Aspen hideaway.
For most of us, that’s the way we hope to go. For Lowell, I’m not so sure. I think he might have preferred signing off in the middle of a well-told story at his corner table near the buffet line at the Headliners. A quick lunch with Lowell could take two hours, so numerous were the well wishers and ring kissers who stopped by. For a blind guy, nobody knew any better when you were reaching for the check. And nothing pissed him off more (other than perhaps a dining room dress code infraction or a loss by any Longhorns team). By god, that was his table. I have a feeling that it will remain so, deservedly and forevermore, regardless of who sits there from time to time.
Roughly ten zillion people knew Lowell better than I did. That only makes what I found to be his promiscuous generosity and patient, wise counsel even more remarkable. My wife says that I get crushes on older men rather than on younger women. She’s right–mostly. But this was no crush. I loved Lowell Lebermann very, very much. And I–along with about ten zillion others–will miss him terribly.