Art Buchwald, that veteran columnist, icon of writerly productivity, World War II veteran — and notorious tennis player — passed away on January 17. His columns were a regular part of my newspaper reading, and a weekly lesson in how to write. In fact, giving up the Washington Post posed only two regrets for me: losing Richard Thomson’s weekly cartoon and Art Buchwald’s column. The latter, at least, I could read online so the loss was quickly healed (in fact, that was probably the moment that tipped the balance in favor of all-online newspaper reading from then on).

Unfortunately — or perhaps fortunately — I can’t join the long list of columnists basking in Buchwald’s reflected glow today by recalling the time I saw him in line at the movie theater and heard him ask the fellow behind him where the men’s room was (“and that, for me, just so captures the wit and charm of the man, I still smile every time I think about it, lo these many years…”)

So rather than layering on more treacle, let’s allow him to speak for himself before making his farewells.

Categorised as: Typecasting

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