“WE TELL THE DEAD TO REST IN PEACE, WHEN WE SHOULD WORRY ABOUT THE LIVING TO LIVE IN PEACE.” —Anthony Liccione
” WHEN YOU WERE BORN, YOU CRIED AND THE WORLD REJOICED. LIVE YOUR LIFE IN A MANNER SO THAT WHEN YOU DIE THE WORLD CRIES AND YOU REJOICE.” —Native American Proverb
“ALL SAY, HOW HARD IT IS THAT WE HAVE TO DIE— A STRANGE COMPLAINT TO COME FROM THE MOUTHS OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE HAD TO LIVE.” —- Mark Twain
It has been a bloody decade, losing a lot of people we are the poorer for losing. It is odd the things that form our lives, especially cultural pivot points. The very nature of who we are, doesn’t get formed, or forms drastically differently… without those signposts of our youth. Without names like Poe and Bradbury and Baldwin and Assimov and Ellison and Cosby and Lean and Welles and Ford and Poitier and Stan Lee.
And Stan Lee.
Men who spoke to us from distances vast, but with the power of the written word, the movie screen or the tv screen or the radio… seemed to be ever constant friends, and mentors and guides.
I am, like most of us a flawed person, but what is in me that transcends flaw, and looks to brighter horizons, more hopeful climates, I owe to many people. Parents of course, friends and family, but these… ghost people … we knew only by their work, which was entertaining us, these were people who spoke to the creative part of us, and somehow shaped us, while not knowing us.
Shaped us, while not knowing us.
What a great gift.
And yet seemingly knowing us ( the cumulative us, of comic-book fans or film fans) completely.
Stan Lee was one of those people.
I owe him, like I owe all those, living and dead, whose work touched, and moved and shaped me, and offered solace and hope in a world oft devoid of it, a debt that can not be relinquished or shirked, but must be acknowledged and paid the only way it can. By passing it on, in whatever humble ways I can, passing on moments of solace and inspiration and hope.