(Un)time(ly to go

In this week of trauma, two of my favourite famous people died - Leonard Cohen and Robert Vaughan.  They were both in their eighties but maybe their bodies thought, 'let's go out on our own terms, rather than the horror that awaits in January'.  Just need elderly liberal Supreme Court judges to hold out for four more years (please not wait).
Though I held Vaughan in huge esteem, Leonard Cohen was far closer to me.  On many occasions, I have listened to the late eighties album, I'm Your Man - sometimes I sing one of its signature tracks Everybody Knows to my baby son when he is awake at night.  His deep voice became even more gravelly since then but with my daughter obsessed with the fairytale 'Beauty and the Beast', she recently asked me on a a playing of I'm Your Man, "Is that the beast?" Very appropriate given the lyrics of the title song!
That's on CD.  I also had it as tape cassette.  When on a school trip back from Berlin, when people said no suicidal music like from Radiohead, I suggested Cohen as I find his lyrics, bittersweet, clever and poignant.  My history teacher demurred but he did change his opinion of me after earlier in the trip I had unwisely 'herded' with others in criticising his passion for The Jam - foolish on many different levels!  I've also grown into appreciation of his other poetic masterstrokes of songs, though everybody obsesses about Hallelujah.
Like David Bowie, Cohen released an album just before his death - perhaps an unintended farewell gift to fans.  No unfinished symphony there.  Though the fountain is now silent, the genius lives on in all those he touched.
Robert Vaughan I first came into contact via The Man From U.N.C.L.E. along with David McCallum (who has said in Vaughan's death he has lost a part of himself) and Leo G. Carroll.  A campy version of James Bond on television (and later as films), I had an instant pleasure in it.  Later on, he maintained his suave demeanour in Superman III.  More recently, I enjoyed him in Hustle and also watched The Magnificent Seven.  A truly great man in himself.