In Memorium

It's been a deadly year for celebrities. And I'm truly sad to see some of them go.

Like Tim Russert, for example. The political analyst and host of NBC's "Meet the Press" was a favorite journalist of mine. I admired his fairness and his ability to broach sensitive topics with tact and grace. I've not read his memoir, Big Russ and Me, but it's on my to-read list.

Then there's Tony Snow. Snow was most recently the White House press secretary. Before that, he was a journalist, host of Fox News Sunday, and all-around nice guy. Even as he died of colon cancer, Snow handled himself with the kind of classiness most politicos wish they possessed.

Paul Newman was a true movie star. I fell in love with him when I saw Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (on DVD of course, since the film's from a bit before my time). I loved the chemistry between Newman and Robert Redford -- who also teamed with Newman in the Sting -- and I felt as if Butch and Sundance were my own best buddies. Also admirable was Newman's offscreen activism and charitable work.

Now, I'm mourning the death of writer Michael Crichton, author of Jurassic Park, Congo, the Andromeda Strain, Prey, Timeline, and other novels -- not to mention creator of the TV series ER. Crichton -- a graduate of Harvard Medical School -- blended fact and fiction like no one I've read, creating thrillers that terrified readers with scientific what-ifs. And they were fun to read. Along with his fiction, Crichton authored many essays on scientific matters, including the global warming theory.

I don't think George Carlin would want us to cry for him.