The decor of my beach house is decidedly "beachy." Tiles with sea creatures. A dining-room light fixture that, depending on which friend you ask, resembles either a rusty anchor or an octopus. Even the framed sheet music to the theme from "A Summer Place," signed by Troy Donohue, hangs in my entryway.

But one of my favorite items is on an upstairs wall, just outside my bedroom door: an original movie poster from a 1946 epic, "Strange Voyage." On it, a rakish blond sea captain, muscled in his white undershirt, clenches a dagger between his teeth. He is armed and ready to fend off the attack of the sharks swarming at the far side of the frame.

He's heroic. He's sexy. He's Eddie Albert.

Actor. War hero. Environmentalist. American treasure. My ideal guy. And he passed away last week, at the age of 99.

Like many baby boomers, I first knew Albert as lawyer-turned-farmer Oliver Wendell Douglas on TV's "Green Acres." A precocious child, I remember being disdainful of the rural humor; it seemed low-class. It wasn't until I was an adult that I appreciated the show's in-joke tweaks at television and the entertainment industry, as well as its ability to break through the fourth wall and speak directly to the audience. I still hoot every time Albert, as Douglas, begins his city-lawyer "speechifying" — invoking images of patriots who fought for liberty so that the American farmer could plant his seed and watch it burst through the earth, reaching for sunlight. Throughout this inspired hoo-hah, which varied in subject, if not tone, a fife and piccolo would tweet patriotically, as his wife (Eva Gabor) and Hooterville neighbors looked around mystified and irritated, trying to determine the source of the musical accompaniment.

As I got older, I was surprised to learn that the star of this seemingly low-brow TV comedy had done an impressive turn as the Persian peddler man in the movie version of "Oklahoma." About the time I was 13, I had the chance to watch the film. Suddenly there he was — this actor I knew only as a corn-pone stuffed-shirt lawyer. He rolled onto the big screen with a twinkling leer and swept Ado Annie off her britches with the "Hey baaay-beee" of a prairie-bound Pepe Le Pew. As he kissed his way up her arm to demonstrate a "Persian Hello," I was a goner.

After "Green Acres" ended, I still managed to see Albert. He would pop up on public service announcements for the Environmental Protection Agency or for organizations dealing with hearing loss. I learned that he was in the forefront of the drive to outlaw the pesticide DDT in the United States. He testified before Congress and gave speeches across the country.

He was a farmer at heart, growing corn at his Pacific Palisades home. The Eddie Albert Farm Program helped establish the pea-patch concept in Champaign, Ill., and was a driving force behind City Children's Farms, a garden program for America's inner cities. Earth Day just happens to be on his birthday — how appropriate for a man who did so much early on to bring environmentalism into the public eye.

But before all this, Albert was a war hero — the pride of VFW Post 8896, East Berlin, Pa. In the first wave at the bloody Battle of Tarawa in the South Pacific, he found and rescued wounded soldiers who had been abandoned under heavy fire, transporting them to troop ships for treatment. Estimates credit him with pulling 70 men to safety. For a detailed and inspiring account of the actions that earned him the Bronze Star (with V for Valor), visit www.vfw8896.net/eddiealbert.htm.

His on-screen military exploits also won acclaim. Though more famous for his work on "The Dirty Dozen," director Robert Aldrich made an earlier, underappreciated war film, "Attack," in which Jack Palance must cope with a drunken, cowardly commanding officer, played by Albert. In 1963, Albert had another role as a military man teetering on the mental brink in "Captain Newman, M.D.," starring Gregory Peck. This was a reunion of sorts, as Albert had worked with Peck 10 years earlier in "Roman Holiday," a film for which he earned the first of two Academy Award nominations for best supporting actor. (The second was for his role as Cybill Shepherd's upper-crust father in 1972's "The Heartbreak Kid.")

For Disney, he would "Escape to Witch Mountain." For Dr. Seuss, he narrated the environmental classic "The Lorax." In the 1940s, he produced sex-education films for schools. It's no wonder that few guys I know measure up to this man of many interests, talents and passions. Speaking of passions, how refreshing to note that he and his wife, Margo, were married for 40 scandal-free years. (She died in 1985.)

So here's to my man Eddie. If you want to pay tribute to his memory, forgo the current remake of "The Longest Yard" and instead rent the 1974 original. (Albert plays the warden). On D-Day, I'm sure some channel will be showing "The Longest Day," another Albert classic. When you watch it, be sure to remember his real-life heroics on the beaches of Tarawa. Or go to the beach and be glad that he helped create legislation to keep our shores clean and pollution free.

As for me, I plan to plant a tree. Then I'll cook myself up a batch of Lisa Douglas-style "hotscakes" and settle in with the DVD of "Oklahoma." And when the peddler man gets ready to leave town and wants to demonstrate a Persian Goodbye, you can bet I'm gonna be right there in spirit to help him out — baaay-beee.

Megan Sheppard is a Seattle writer. She can be reached at megans@hootspa.com.