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Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Noah's Eulogy

Moral. Decent. Kind. Ethical. Honest. And Classy. These are not words often used to describe the average publicist.
But as we all know, Eddie wasn't your average publicist.

It's hard to be here. It's hard to stand here. It's hard to sum up a life in a few paragraphs. It's hard to reduce a relationship to a few anecdotes. It's hard to talk about him and use the past tense.

It's not that the memories won't come. It's that there are too many. 20 years if memories. 20 years of breakfasts and red eyes and cab rides and green rooms. In London. Tokyo. Chicago. New York.
His divorce. My marriage. His marriage.  My divorce. My son. His daughter. My daughter. His son.

When someone is so completely woven into the tapestry if your life you can't distinguish between the threads - any more than you can imagine the fabric holding together without them.

I was 22 years old when I met Eddie, and I knew everything. He was 29 with a head full of brown hair. We hit it off immediately. More than just one Los Angelino recognizing another - There was an ease. A comfort. It seemed we both came from the same "old school" and I liked his style. Where others would hustle, horse trade, badger and bully- Eddie was thoughtful, careful, strategic, and precise. We began working together that very day. And we continued to work together, day in and day out. Year after year.  Until 10:37pm last Thursday night.

To all outward appearances it would seem Eddie had it pretty easy with me. I show up on time. Sober. Prepared. And polite. Usually. I never trashed a hotel room, never totaled a car, never bit a stewardess. (That didn't have it coming.) I didn't need damage control. I don't know about his other clients, but that's not the service he provided for me. What I received was his wise counsel, His creativity, and unfailing support. He was my compass and companion in unknown territories. My partner in crime, working to pull off the ultimate long con.  And it was working.

And I don't know what to do now. "Call Eddie". "Email Eddie". "Ask Eddie". "See what Eddie thinks first".  These have been my rote responses to everything and everyone for so long it's a terrifying prospect to have to face the worlds demands without my buffer, bad cop, filter and friend.

But I will. As must we all. And so as I look out at all of you who loved Eddie and were loved by him, I offer up the only hope and solace I've found this far.

It came the night before last as I was trying to explain this all to my 10 year old son, Owen.  He said, "you're going to miss him a lot, aren't you Dad?"  And I said, "yes. I am going to miss him a lot. But I'm hoping its gonna be like the movie Star Wars. Remember when Obi Wan Kenobe dies and Luke is sad. But in the end when Luke needs him suddenly Obi Wan's voice echoes in his head, telling him what to do and reminding him that he'll always be with him?"  And Owen said, "yeah ". And I said, "I'm hoping its going to be like that".

I hope it's going to be like that. For all of us. Thank you

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