Too many farewells: Andy Hallett

Originally published at Jean Marie Ward. You can comment here or there.

I didn’t realize 2009 was going to be about good-byes, and I certainly didn’t think one of those farewells would be to 33-year-old Andy Hallett, who played Lorne on the TV show Angel. Sorry as I was to see a nice guy die so young, I didn’t plan on any memorials either. Since late last week I’ve been wrestling with my latest Short Story of Doom and managing the parade of repair people it takes to replace a thirty-year-old furnace. Besides, I didn’t know Andy any better than any of the other journalists who interviewed him in his first blush of syndicated fame. Anything I could’ve said would’ve been said better a lot sooner than I could.

Then I reread his Crescent Blues interview. I’d forgotten what a butterfly he was–a not-so-little boy (he stood over a foot taller than me) let loose in the great candy shop of life. Almost eight years later, the wonder and the joy still shine through. In the words of “Lady Marmalade”, his favorite song, Andy never had to go back home, doing 9 to 5, living a gray flannel life. Which is only right, butterflies hate gray.

So long, Andy. I hope your next turn boasts satin sheets, sweet magnolia wine and lots of more, more, more.

Too many farewells: Andy Hallett

I didn't realize 2009 was going to be about good-byes, and I certainly didn't think one of those farewells would be to 33-year-old Andy Hallett, who played Lorne on the TV show Angel.  Sorry as I was to see a nice guy die so young, I didn't plan on any memorials either.  Since late last week I've been wrestling with my latest Short Story of Doom and managing the parade of repair people it takes to replace a thirty-year-old furnace.  Besides, I didn't know Andy any better than any of the other journalists who interviewed him in his first blush of syndicated fame.  Anything I could've said would've been said better a lot sooner than I could.

Then I reread his Crescent Blues interview.  I'd forgotten what a butterfly he was--a not-so-little boy (he stood over a foot taller than me) let loose in the great candy shop of life.  Almost eight years later, the wonder and the joy still shine through.  In the words of "Lady Marmalade", his favorite song, Andy never had to go back home, doing 9 to 5, living a gray flannel life.  Which is only right, butterflies hate gray. 

So long, Andy.  I hope your next turn boasts satin sheets, sweet magnolia wine and lots of more, more, more.