I was deeply saddened to hear of the loss of a beloved family friend, Mr. Anderson. Ed was one of the most beautiful souls I was fortunate enough to have gotten to know as a child, teenager, and young adult. Ed and his Wife Christina were an active part of our church and close family friends.
The loss is so close to home because he was one of the people who stepped in place after our father passed away; acting as a strong male role model for the youngest member of our family, Joshua.
I remember swinging by the salon one afternoon and talking with Ed about his plans to take Joshua to an OSU football game. The sentiment nearly brought tears to my eyes, as I reflected on the time our Dad took me to one of these games. The two had a wonderful afternoon together.
Ed was the type of man that you would listen to. I mean really listen to. He had a way with his words; artistically crafting conversations that drew you in. His voice was impeccable, reminding me of ‘the man with the golden voice’ once discovered in Columbus.
Ed was once offered a position in New York City as a newscaster for a major news station – turning it down to honor the good Lord in other avenues that didn’t start with Park, Madison, or the Americas.
I got to know Ed when I was a young child. He and his wife, Christina, ran a hair salon in Columbus, OH, called The Master’s Touch – a reference to the hand of the creator.
Ed took this philosophy into practice with everything he set his hands to. Most notably, the incredible restoration of their Victorian era home.
He once gave our family a tour of the home, stopping to show a mantle decoration he was refinishing with small pieces of gold leaf. Piece by piece, he added this gold leaf to the decoration with the skillful patience only an artist can call upon.
There’s a saying in the bible – Line upon line, precept upon precept. Ed worked in this manner; taking painstaking efforts in all of his tasks, projects, and haircuts.
It is bittersweet to now reflect and realize that Ed was the first man who treated me like one. Because of the way he treated me, he was the first person to make me feel like a man – even when I was only in my teen years.
Ed carried himself as a man; he’d give steady eye contact, a firm handshake, and maintained a steadiness in his voice that carried the distinction of being teacher, peer, friend, and family member. There was no distinction between these qualities; he wove them together, inviting you to share in his collected nature, without ego or pride.
It was this countenance that helped me find my roots during the moments of my life where I felt there were none; losing my father, going to college, or the early years in my career where I sought respect and admiration from others who weren’t capable of granting it.
Ed was different. He was a rock in a world delusional with self-centeredness.
Yet, even the strongest rocks can be broken. And the most beautiful forests can give way to a small spark.
The circumstances in which he went weren’t fitting for a man who so poetically lived his life; offering it to others with no thought or return.
He set an example with the way he lived his life, loved his wife and children, and ran their family business with integrity, class, and artisanal design.
The world lost far more than an angel today. It lost a man of integrity who kept his word, set an example to follow, loved limitlessly, and truly made the world a better place than the way it was when he entered.
I have no words to express my gratitude for the love you shared with me and our family. I am so appreciative for the strong mentor you were to me and my family after the loss of our father. I never got to tell you the deep, immense respect I carried for you and hope that I will someday get the opportunity to do so.
You will always be remembered through the legacy you carried through the example you set with your life.
There are few people that possess the gift of showing others what it means to be loved, created, and carried by the loving arms of the Creator.
You truly had the Master’s touch and will always be remembered by it.
In Loving Memory,
Edwin Anderson (1939 – 2017)