Goodbye Lupe

My friend, colleague and fellow sushi lover Lupe Escobar, in one of the more unfair turn of events ever, passed away a few weeks ago. I met and worked with Lupe at Innocean-she was a project manager on the Genesis account.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what to write today, and what I came up with is this: the last thing Lupe would want is some gushing post about her, some perfectly crafted, excrutiatingly curated wording about her life and times.

Of course, if you ask anyone who’s ever worked with me, perfectly crafted has never been an issue.

Lupe would want it real — unfiltered, like she was. So that’s what I’ll try to do.

Lupe was funny. Not just “funny haha,” but sharp, witty, and sometimes a little too honest — which, of course, made her even funnier.

She had this curiosity about people and places that was incredible. When Lupe wanted to know something, she didn’t just read about it — she went there, experienced it, lived it. And when she came back, she’d tell these amazing stories, full of the kinds of little details most people would miss. Listening to her, you felt like you were right there with her.

I can’t tell you how many times I got lost in conversation with her when I was supposed to be working. But talking to Lupe was always better than working anyway.

And now, I have to share something that might make a few of you who knew her jealous: I got a hug from Lupe. Twice. I know — huge deal. Her online handle was nohugsloop, and she meant it. I watched plenty of people go in for a hug and get — let’s call it — gracefully denied. But for some reason, I made the cut: once at a holiday party, and again at my going-away party after someone — and I’m not naming names — made the questionable decision to lay me off. Don’t worry, I’m over it.

Those hugs are among my favorite memories.

Lupe and I had a standing date for years. I was going to take her to my favorite sushi restaurant, Koi in Seal Beach. Until that happened, whenever I was there I’d send her a picture of the food, who I was with or just the chopstick wrapper that said Koi. You always think there’s time, but sadly our sushi extravaganza never happened.

Lupe and I didn’t always agree. When it came to things like vaccinations, we’d have some spirited discussions. Spirited, but respectful.

Lupe was one of a kind. She was bold, curious, funny, and deeply genuine. I know she’ll stay with me the rest of my life.

When I travel somewhere new, I’ll think of her.

When I’m being more honest than people expect — or maybe want — I’ll think of her.

When I’m at Koi I’ll think of her.

And when I’m sitting with someone, laughing, enjoying the ease and realness of the moment, I’ll think of her.

I was lucky to know her, to laugh with her, to hear her stories.

She may be gone, but her spirit will travel with me always.

Godspeed.

The coasters

I'm a riddle. Wrapped in an enigma. Sometimes I'm difficult to please, but that's usually only in my waking hours. Other times, the simplest things bring me an unreasonable amount of pure, unadulterated joy.

Or maybe I've been locked up in my house too long.

Anyway, one thing that dials up the happiness factor to 11 for me is the perfect coaster. If you have water rings staining all your wooden tabletops, you're probably not familiar with them. That or you're single.

Coasters protect the furniture. You put them under your drink, and they prevent moisture from leaving an imprint on the wood.

Even before face masks and hand sanitizer, coasters had already become a household fashion accessory. You could get them with scenic pictures. Reproduced works of art. Rock stars. You could order them customized with logos, sayings, quotes and in any size, shape, color or material you wanted.

Over the years, and by no means intentionally, I've collected my share of coasters, mostly from people who didn't want to spend more on a real gift. I have more sets of 6 coasters than I'll ever have glasses to put on them. The funny thing is, like my children, I definitely have a favorite.

Also like my children, it probably isn't the one you expected.

As you take a gander at a sampling of my collection above, I can read your mind. It's not hard. First, you're thinking doesn't he have anything better to post about. And the answer is if I did, would you be reading this?

Second, because of who I am and what you know about me from following this blog so long—and if I haven't said thank you lately, thank you—I'm guessing you're guessing my favorite coaster would be the square-with-round-corners one with the picture of Bruce Springsteen circa the Born In The USA album.

I didn't want you to hear it this way, but you're wrong. Actually, it's this one.

This cork coaster was given to me by my friend Johnny when we worked together and shared an office at an agency in Huntington Beach. It was a creative shop—you could tell because they named the conference rooms after different beaches. I don't know how Goodby sleeps at night knowing there's that kind of creative horsepower competing against them.

I may have digressed.

The beauty of this coaster is it's not beautiful. It's quintessentially exactly what a coaster should be. Form following function, with the lip around the edge preventing any excess moisture from spilling over. And because of the material, it doesn't slide around on a slick desktop, which means no accidental spills (unless I'm really trying).

When I, along with ten other people, were laid off from the agency at the beach with the conference room names they must've given at least thirty seconds of thought to, the first thing I packed up wasn't the ads I'd done, my laptop or my coffee mug. Literally the first thing was this coaster. Sure there was that whole form follows function thing, but I think it also reminds me of the great times I had working with Johnny as well as my other two office roommates, Nicole and my art director partner Imke.

At any rate, it's a little thing I suppose wouldn't mean much to most people. But it brings me great joy every time I use it.

I can only imagine how happy I'd be if Johnny would finally pony up for the other five.

Eating healthier

If you work in an agency, you already know you're surrounded by many things.

Foam core. Account planners. Knit beanies. T-shirts with ironic sayings. Storyboards. Conference rooms. Ideas both great and wretched. Millennials. Broken printers. And, most importantly, food.

Agencies can come up short on the big idea, results, deadlines and insights. But one thing they're never wanting for is food.

It comes in all forms: leftovers from client and vendor meetings, food brought in for late night work (allegedly) sessions, donuts because someone felt breakfast is the most important meal. And when you work in an agency that has it's own café and barista, there are always snacks.

Snacks come in two forms: unhealthy, and the illusion of healthy. I prefer the illusion of healthy. For example today I had these. They're made with real fruit. They have 100% of my daily vitamin C requirement. Fat free. And gluten free, which means you can eat them in Los Angeles.

Right under the banner that reads Mixed Fruit is the disclaimer Natural and Artificial Fruit.

Well sure, but there's nothing artificial about the way these little gummy fruits taste.

I suppose if I was under oath I'd have to admit there are apples, bananas and those little Cutie tangerines on the counter next to the cookies, chips, candy and these "fruit mix" packs.

But then again, no one's under oath here.