LOU CARBONNEAU, REST IN POWER, 1971-2026
The Passing of a Great and Talented Friend
My good friend Lou Carbonneau passed away last week due to a fatal car accident.
Though I am a professional wordsmith, I find myself lacking today and unworthy to write a tribute to my incredibly talented, though oft-troubled, friend, Lou. But I will try regardless. My good friend Lou has exited the stage.
It’s taken me seven days to even do this, and I am still processing the loss. Lou deserves more than the modest readership of my site here (which is my fault, not anyone else’s), and as successful as he was as an actor (he was very successful) in television and film, no one who hasn’t seen him perform live can imagine what a creative force he was onstage. He was also a great friend.
Those of you who knew us, the team above, back in the halycon days of indie theatre, know well, however, the power Lou exhibited onstage. And you’re also no doubt shocked at the loss of this man. He acted in a number of my plays, creating roles that still stick with those of us who saw them to this day. He was classically trained, adept at Shakespeare, Moliere, and, well, anything. I mean, ANYTHING. He was that good. He also directed and produced theatre; he was one of the producers of my play TALLBOY WALKIN, in addition to starring in it.
I’ll share a number of pictures below from a few, and chances are you’ve seen Lou on television more than a few times. He was a constant in commercials, television shows, and films. He retired from it all a few years back and moved to South Carolina.
He and I had a falling out, around that same time, one that left me confused. We reconciled, but it was never the same after that, and over time, he disappeared from my life. It was only later that I discovered that Lou was dealing with a very difficult and challenging personal issue, one that caused him to break off relationships, friendships, and retreat from most everyone who cared about him, including his very best friend and his life partner. It was a shock. It still is a shock. I grieve.
I grieve because, as his life-partner told me, it’s as though we lost him twice. She is correct. We lost him to a disorder first, then to a car accident second. So we grieve. Words cannot do justice to his life, his creativity, his impact. They cannot.
Lou gave so much of himself to the arts, to his friends, to his family, so much. And that often comes with a price. I grieve. We had quite a bit in common, he and I. All I can say is, Lou, I learned from you, brother, I did. I wish I’d returned as much love to you as you showed me and the world, but I didn’t have the tools then. I’ll try to honor you by being better at that. I will work harder at being there for those I love. I will. Thank you, Lou, for everything. You were magic and lightning in a bottle.
Rest In Power, friend, and I’ll see you after the show.
Grieving too. Can’t believe he’s gone.