They left us in 2022, but their memories bless us still
Quin Hillyer
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Some people in public life die while leaving indelible, positive imprints on a writer’s memory, but about whom, in the crush of daily news, the writer never paid published tribute.
Herewith, then, an idiosyncratic, annotated list of those who I don’t want to allow to go unmentioned, arranged chronologically by the date of their deaths, followed by links to full columns I did write on others who lived large and well.
NOT MERELY A QUEEN, BUT THE QUEEN
Richard Leakey and his father Louis made paleontology cool. Little boys love “cavemen.” Leakey’s research and public explanations thereof brought those human ancestors, in a sense, to life. He surely helped inculcate a love of learning in the souls of millions of children who may not even have known his name.
Sidney Poitier was the epitome of admirable dignity in movie after movie. Only someone virtually soulless could watch his character teach German nuns the spiritual hymn “Amen” without either wiping away tears or smiling broadly or both.
There was a time when Charley Taylor was the all-time leading receiver in NFL history. He also was the most exciting, and he gave pizzazz and personal warmth to the Washington Redskins’ decidedly crusty, early 1970s “Over the Hill Gang.”
Roger Angell may have been the most elegant writer on baseball (and sometimes other subjects) who ever lived. As a baseball-obsessed child, I found it heartening, almost to the point of magic, to see, through him, that a sportswriter could be nationally revered.
In a polarized political world, Mark Shields served as a reminder to this conservative that liberals needed not be disagreeable, even when I thought them to be wrong. Unfailingly genial (and a season ticket holder for my beloved Georgetown Hoya basketball team, to boot), Shields gave class and a winningly wry smile to political debate.
Olivia Newton-John, before the end of Grease, was the absolute epitome of the beautiful “sweet girl” with a lovely voice. People forget just how many crossover country-pop hits she graced us with during the wholesome early years of her career. What guy wouldn’t want someone with that exquisite face and voice to sing “I honestly love you” to him?
I was at a low point in life, back at age 20, when a good friend suggested I read a memoir called The Sacred Journey by Frederick Buechner, a Presbyterian minister and prolific author. Its grace-filled passages were a wonderful salve. And Buechner had the wisdom to make a central theme from a line uttered by a character from the land of Oz named Rinkitink, who said to “never question the truth of what you fail to understand, for the world is filled with wonders.”
If you ever wanted to see how something as ungainly as a golf swing could look elegant, Tom Weiskopf was the man to watch. Tempestuous and with a chip on his shoulder during his prime, he grew into a thoughtful and admirable elder statesman.
Laurence Silberman surely ranks among the very finest federal judges who never served on the Supreme Court, as much as we admirers wanted him appointed. A man of unquestioned brilliance, fierce integrity, and deep patriotism, just months before his death, he still was earning appreciative editorial remarks from this newspaper because of his advocacy for free speech.
If you were too young to see Ray Guy turn punting into an NFL art form, you missed the best of what put the “foot” in “football.”
This year also saw the deaths of Mikhail Gorbachev, Bill Russell, Orrin Hatch, Moon Landrieu, Kenneth Starr, Christine McVie, and Frank Shakespeare, among many other worthies. Thanks for the memories.