One of my most fun on-the-job days was last summer’s Troopathon. I was there to promote the event online to raise awareness and get the donations rolling in to support our troops. I spent the entire day sitting next to Larry O’Connor and Andrew Breitbart (at least when he wasn’t rollerblading around the studio), and when I got home that night, my cheeks and my stomach ached from having laughed so hard.
Andrew was getting ready to go on camera, and the cameraman gave him some sort of hand signal, and I thought to myself, “I have no idea what that means, but someday I’ll be a pro and totally know all of those signals.” Andrew missed his cue, recovered, and later said, “I had no idea what that guy was doing,” while simultaneously making some contorted hand motions. I laughed, told him what I had been thinking, and thanked him for his humorous honesty.
Andrew was real. He made no apologies for who he was. He did more than live life – he owned it.
This loss is not one-dimensional. We didn’t lose just a man, we have lost of a bit of sunlight. Andrew shined in so many ways. He shined light into a dark and seedy political world and exposed stories the mainstream media never would’ve covered. His warm personality and approachability made people smile. His boundless energy and unrelenting crusade against progressivism inspired a whole new world of citizen journalists.
Andrew inspired me to embrace life, never apologize for who I am, and keep on keeping on. He taught me to laugh at my haters, because really, that’s the best you can throw at me? Pfffffttt. How about some actual content, people?
Even now in his death, he is still offering me free and poignant advice: Don’t ever hesitate to tell someone what he or she means to you. Because these are words that I wish I could’ve spoken to my friend when he was here to hear them.