Thank you, Paul Newman.
Thank you for loving Joanne Woodward as you did, not just because lifelong love is a treasure unto itself, but because the example of your relationship was a charm against cynicism about the frivolity of Hollywood love. You two were also awfully darn cute.
Thank you for thoroughly enjoying your presence on Nixon's enemies list—pretty sure that's in the highest traditions of the American spirit.
Thank you for the condiments, and the supermarket glee we all got out of "Paul Newman! He has salad dressing! Can you believe it! What? And now he's sellin' microwave popcorn, too? Will wonders never cease..." The sauce was delicious, and the mission of the charity receiving the brand's revenues was heroic. (Psst...readers: Want to bypass the grocery store and go straight to the source? Hit up Newman's Hole in the Wall Gang charity online.)
And the movies...thank you, Paul Newman, for the movies.