for my dead boss, bert.

maybe that’s a callous way to say it, but bert always believed in being dramatic. yes, even in front of four-star army generals while bidding to re-up our multi-million dollar pr account.

that was bert! he was humor, flair, energy, wisdom, and compassion all wrapped up into one. he was also world-famous for keeping cool as a streaker blew through his live shot. if you knew bert, you knew his laugh was immediate and infectious; how he didn’t collapse there, i’ll never know.

bert was just authentic like that. he had such a good heart. which makes the fact that he died from a heart attack in the parking lot of a hospital even more tragic. bert would have been 55 this year. instead, he’s dead, and it’s because of our healthcare system.

okay, okay, kelcie, he’d probably say. it’s a good story, but don’t catastrophize. tell them about the fun times! that makes for a better story.

gladly! bert had “hell yes” energy. he was your friend who was up for anything, your co-conspirator, your advocate. french fries for dinner? yes. one more martini? hell yes! hitting up the antique store before a big client meeting? okay, chica! bocce ball in suburban minneapolis? you betcha. breaking your leg, but shrugging it off because now you can arrive to the party with bedazzled crutches? werk, bitch. he had such a good heart.

bert was also technically my boss, which sometimes got us into a pickle.

like the time we held an army strategy session in savannah. it was his first time there, and he made us, “play the tourist game!” i got us reservations to pink house and we need to go see each of the fountains. we also need to get those slushy things near the river.

so we did, finishing the night with one of my favorite work memories: a smoky dueling piano bar where bert unironically requested “piano man” because “it just felt like the backdrop for a good story.”

the next day, we were up and out by 0600, just as planned. bert put his work mask back on, and we marched on to advocate for kids entering the army.

no one tells you what to do when your boss dies, especially when you’re 23.

i raced to the bathroom, swallowed a wail, stepped back out into the open plan agency floor and started working again. and we all just kept going like nothing happened. years later, we grieve, only now in the subconscious moments reminding us of bert.

i see bert’s good heart and infectious spirit everywhere.

• in the airport, about to board a puddle jumper to birmingham during tornado season.

• on youtube as gen z discovers the creative legacy of local news reporting.

• in my old coworkers, many of whom have moved on to become more kind, authentic, and hell yes versions of themselves.

• in myself as i try to inject bert’s curiosity and radiance into my storytelling. his zest for living the best life to tell the best stories has become the heartbeat of my life.

• in the eyes of people in pain. bert always had a way of connecting, of hearing, of compassion. he saw your spirit. that’s why he had such a good heart.

bert’s lessons? stand for something. pay it forward. and always go on that damn adventure.

may bert’s brilliant heart and legacy continue to shine. i hope i am doing my part to make him proud.
https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/name/bert-lozano-obituary?pid=153409062

for you, chica <3