I only met Le Guin once. It was at the one and only Readercon I’ve ever attended.
I’ve worked in the sf/fantasy/comics field in some capacity or other since I graduated college in 1990. I’ve met, hung out with, worked with, collaborated with, assigned work to, been assigned work by, a huge variety of people, many of whom are giants in the field. I always have treated those people as friends and/or colleagues.
I have almost never fangoobered over anyone, even the folks whose works I am an unreserved fangoober of.
The exception was that one Readercon, when I briefly got to meet Le Guin, and made a total ass of myself sounding like a gibbering imbecile.
Le Guin was one of the formative reading experiences of my youth. Among the first books I read when I could read on my own were her Earthsea books, along with Heinlein’s YA stuff, The Hobbit, and P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves stories — which pretty much explains me entirely, right there. In particular, her essay collection Dancing at the Edge of the World is one of my bibles, with some of the finest essays ever written. And her fiction is some of the best the genre has to offer, full stop.