Goodbye Mr. Newman

I’m certain I can’t add anything new to the Paul Newman conversation. And yet, I feel compelled to interrupt regularly scheduled blogging to make note of his passing. My world stopped for a moment when I heard of his death. I was at a park decorating for my son’s birthday party when my BlackBerry buzzed. I scrolled through my email while scattering confetti, and opened a message from one of my closest friends. The first line read, “There’s something about Paul Newman dying that’s very very sad to me.” Until then, I didn’t know he’d died, as I’d been devoted to cupcakes and treasure hunts for the previous 24 hours. The news winded me. It’s strange, really. I didn’t know him. I haven’t seen all his movies. I don’t even use his salad dressing. Still, I echo my friend’s sentiment that a world without him feels . . . different somehow.