When I first heard about the terrorist attacks in Mumbai I confess that I did not pay much attention to what was happening there. I am ashamed to say that is because I didn’t think I personally knew anyone there and India is a country that exists in a fantasy for me. I know that it is there, but I have never been. I like Indian food, I have met some wicked smart people from India here in the Pacific Northwest, and some day I would like to see the Taj Mahal and it would be a dream to see a tiger in the wild. We should care about what happens to people we don’t know in countries far away but it is not as easy as that, even for a fairly well traveled wanderingblonde. Awakenings can be rude and awful and so mine has been. I learned that I did indeed know someone in Mumbai and suddenly this tragedy a world away was as real to me as my tears.
Andreas Liveras was man who, while slight of stature nonetheless stood head and shoulders above most men. I do not ever remember seeing him without a smile on his face, and though he was the consumnate salesman and promoter his smiles were genuine. No one enjoyed life as much as he. As a young man he emigrated from Cyprus to England and became a humble delivery truck driver for a small bakery. In short order he managed to own that bakery and turn it into an industrial operation employing hundreds. After selling that concern he concentrated his attentions on building a fleet of large luxury yachts that he chartered to the world’s most demanding celebrities and heads of state. Andreas Liveras was a multimillionaire whose feet were firmly on the ground. I don’t know how many multimillionaires you’ve met but I’ve known my fair share and in general they are not down to earth, happy go lucky types. He could order a bottle of the finest champagne in the most unpretentious way. His eyes sparkled and he often wore an expression on his face that said, “I’ve got a secret,” and made one want to know what that secret was.
I for one will never forget how kind he was to me when we first met nearly fifteen years ago. I was hardly worthy of his personal attention, a newcomer to the broker aspect of the yachting industry, but Andreas went out of his way to treat me as if I was his most important client. When I learned how Andreas had died, after hours spent locked in a room at the grand hotel he chanced to visit that night for a taste of their fabled curry, my first thought was that I wouldn’t be surprised if he had died protecting someone else. I could see him doing that. I will miss him. Fair winds and following seas Andreas. As for the murdering savages responsible for this massacre I believe there is a special place in hell for them. At least I hope so.