LOUIS OSBORNE COXE
May 27, 2025
He hated eggs, lobster, almost all modern entertainment, and hikes in the woods (“too much nature!”) with a burning fire—only exceeded in intensity by his love for family, obscure snack foods, stinky cheeses, rare whiskey, horrible music, great literature, football and hockey (especially his hometown Patriots and Bruins), giving generous (and often strange) gifts, and tirelessly making people laugh. He gleefully planted whoopie cushions in his own chair, made ridiculous faces in every photo, stuck a finger up his nose if he saw someone looking at him, purposely wore clothes long past their so-frayed-it-can’t-even-be-used-as-a-rag date, and encouraged his great-nieces and nephews to call him “Uncle Poopy Pants” (inspired by a line from the immortal Leslie Nielsen in the movie Naked Gun 2½). He purposely amassed a collection of thousands of the worst albums ever recorded. He invented new experimental cocktails using such unlikely combinations as rye, fernet branca, and Moxie soda; or bourbon, pickle juice, and Moxie soda; or absinthe, Pepto Bismol, and Moxie soda (he loved Moxie soda). He didn’t drive a car after he turned 18, refused to leave New England from 1972 to 2000, never owned a cell phone, and was briefly a lobsterman, clam digger, and bartender at Boston’s famed Union Oyster House before settling into a decades-long career as a copy editor for some of Boston’s top ad agencies.
He was, in other words, the absolute definition of A Character.
Now the boring-but-important details that tell you nothing about who he was: Louis Osborne Coxe, Jr., 75, died on May 27 at his home in South Boston after a short illness. Born January 4, 1950 in Minneapolis, Minnesota to Edith Winsor and Louis Osborne Coxe, Lou grew up in Brunswick, Maine, an area he loved and returned to each year on vacation. His father Louis was a professor of English at Bowdoin College and a renowned poet and playwright whose play "Billy Budd" earned acclaim on Broadway; his mother Edith was commended by the Maine state legislature for her years of dedicated volunteer work for a range of nonprofits. Lou graduated from St. Paul’s School in Concord, New Hampshire and then in 1972 from Princeton University, where he majored in English.
As a counterpoint, his LinkedIn profile, which would never tell a lie, brags that he worked as a Moist Flushable at Rekta Litch Scratch-Resistant Bicycle Pants in Bag of Sacks, New Hampshire and an apprentice K-Cup Bin at the Metropolitan Opera, where he specialized in explosive hand gestures and volcanic anecdotes, was previously the Archbishop of Canterbury/Salisbury Stakeholder at the Church of Latter Day Dinks, and was educated at Boil in Bag College, where he majored in Ice Fishing and Mysterious Stains. (Seriously, it’s a stealth parody masterpiece worth perusing.)
An absolutely beloved brother, uncle, and great-uncle, Lou was obviously hilariously funny, but also brilliant, kind, generous, uncensored, a true connoisseur with impeccable taste across a wide range of fine foods, wines, beers and liquors, a trivia and board game master, a bottomless well of literature, sports, and pop culture knowledge, and completely unique.
Family was everything to Lou, and they are all very saddened by his passing. He is survived by his brother Robert Winsor Coxe (and wife Gro) of Kennesaw, Georgia and sister Helen Eyre Coxe (and husband David Lay) of Cumberland Center, Maine; four nieces and nephews: Charles Olav Coxe (and wife Jennifer) of West Orange, New Jersey, Inger Winsor Wood (and husband Jared) of Statesboro, Georgia, Ben Cheney of Taipei, Taiwan, and Hilary Cheney of East Boston, Massachusetts; and four great-nieces and nephews.
Lou is predeceased by his brother and partner-in-hilarity Charles Shearman Coxe of Brunswick, Maine. Like his brother, father and grandfather before him, Lou’s final years were marred by Alzheimer's disease; those who would like to donate are encouraged to consider making a gift to the Alzheimer's Foundation of America (alzfdn.org). A celebration of Lou’s life will be held at a future date, but for now, you can gather with your own family, pour everyone a delicious glass of whiskey (Moxie optional), play the worst song you can find, and make plenty of fart noises.