I was planning on writing a blog post, since I haven't written one in a while, but I was greeted with this headline: Paul Newman dies at 83. And now I'm so heartbroken, I can't do much of anything.
He was such a great guy: absolutely gorgeous, deeply humble, a devout philanthropist (his delish Newman's Own brand generated approximately $175 million dollars for charity -- he didn't make a cent), an amazing actor, and an all-around gentleman.
I keep thinking about his wonderful relationship with his family -- his wife in particular -- and making a :-( with my whole heart.
Newman was half of one of the most successful showbiz marriages -- to Joanne Woodward whom he married in 1958. He observed that just because he was a sex symbol there was no reason to commit adultery.
"Why would I go out for a hamburger when [I] have steak at home?" he asked.
R.I.P. Paul, a truly great man.
(Now excuse me while I watch my favourite movie ever, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and weep.)