It’s taken a few days before I could write about the sad, sad demise of Anthony Bourdain. When I first encountered him on TV (I think it was his series No Reservations), I thought he was brash, egocentric and bombastic. He grew on me though. A confluence of his exposure on TV and my growing interest in cooking piqued my curiosity, and his depth of character appealed to me to keep watching. And I began to realize that food was simply a vehicle for him to tell stories of people, cultures and how humans are brought together through a common element–eating food.
I don’t know what it’s like to be depressed and so I will not offer any unqualified opinions on why he committed suicide. It’s perplexing to me though how someone who seemed to be doing a job that he loved, and was so adept at it, could be anything other than happy. That’s probably my ignorance of depression though. My supposition is that people aren’t so easily divided psychologically into two easy to understand poles–happy and depressed.
I am so sad that he is gone and that I won’t be able to enjoy his poignant stories on CNN anymore. I loved his storytelling and my own connection and growing acumen with cooking paired well with his feeling that food was the common denominator of people of different cultures, continents, languages, and experiences.
RIP Tony.
Until next time, be kind to one another y’all.
