You can think about greatness and generosity and images of a youthful grace and beauty. You can think about children, sick children, playing in camps. Salad dressing. And popcorn.
You can think about him hobbling on a crutch, feigning indifference, while Elizabeth Taylor urged him on in her lingerie. The two most beautiful actors in all of film, and they just argued. You knew how alcoholic and sick Brick was if he wasn't dying for Elizabeth Taylor.
You can think about racing cars and diving into rivers with Redford and, with Redford again, shaking down Robert Shaw.
Left-handed Gun. Hard-boiled eggs. Torn Curtain. Hud. Hudsucker. So many movies. Six decades of them.
Joanne. Paul and Joanne. And their family.
I think of The Verdict. That great scene with Jack Warden, where Frank Galvin is on the phone, begging the other side to reconsider his own reconsideration of their settlement offer. The hyperventilating desperation crushing his pride. One of the greatest scenes in one of the greatest movies of the last 50 years.
God...Newman was a great actor.