Mr. Abramson always remembered you the way you'd like to be
remembered: as brighter, more potent, more alive, wittier, more popular,
and more rebellious than you really were, and by name. And then he would
convince you that all of those things you wished you were, were the
concrete truth. It's the way he remembered you that makes you miss him
most.
No need to dress up your memory of Mr. Abramson, the squarest hippie
and the baddest square you'd ever meet, a walking reminder that the
greatest form of rebellion is being true to yourself. He changed your
life, my life -- the world after him will never be the same. Our young
children have already heard stories of his influence.
Little-known fact: Les Abramson had a small tattoo. A snail. Reminded
him, as a teenager embarking on what he himself would call "The Great
Adventure," that if it didn't fit on your back, it wasn't worth having.
In one of many countless moments when Mr. Abramson saved my life with
pure pop wisdom and the keenest heart, he quoted me The Beatles. My
question: "How do you make love stay?" His answer: "The love you take is
equal to the love you make."
In that case, Mr. Abramson had better have beamed up with more than a
snail shell on his back. Peace, my hero. The universe is a little
lovelier for your visit.
TODD JENSEN
Burbank
Editor's note: Les Abramson, 52, died Feb. 3. He was a teacher at John
Burroughs High School.
