“…we are part of one another--laughing, loving, losing each other in the endless universe of fire and ice and darkness and finding each other again, a union of souls and stardust. The wonder is not that we die, but that we ever were.”
Our community suffered a great loss over the weekend: the editor of our local paper died at the age of 54.
He was a great champion of the community. He was the kind of guy you felt as though you knew personally. And he was a brilliant writer. Readers would clamor for his columns to be re-run, especially the one about giving thanks at the holidays & the one about watching children grow up as you say goodbye on the first day of school. It ran every September, the latter one.
He left, a few years ago, to take a bigger position at a NYC paper. Within 5 years, he had returned. He missed the small town feel, he said. And the community embraced him for it.
And the saddest thing for me, really, is that I'll never read another column by this witty wordmaster. Makes you realize how much the written word can get inside and affect people you never even meet in person.