Showing posts with label In Memoriam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In Memoriam. Show all posts

Friday, January 29, 2021

Angelia Joiner: Journalist, Ufologist, Radio Host, Animal Advocate – In Memoriam

Angelia Joiner in Memoriam

Among the 3,432


     I didn’t know Angelia Joiner well. We never met in person. We’d exchanged emails, had a few phone chats, and she’d invited me on one of her podcasts, which I’d forgotten about until Grant Cameron posted it online Friday. And that was quite awhile back, a year or so after she broke the Stephenville UFO story in 2008.

But we were Facebook friends who “liked” each other every now and then. She’d post pix of local shelter dogs who needed a home, an occasional classic-tune video (“I got sunshiiiiine, on a cloudy day …”), photos of her new grandson, and we shared the same political inclinations. What wasn’t to “like”?
By Billy Cox
Devoid
1-11-21

Angelia Joiner’s reporting on the 1/8/08 Stephenville UFO incident would prod the military into reversing course and admitting it had 10 F-16s in the same vicinity that evening/CREDIT: silverland.info
And when, one day last month, she announced how one of her friends had “died of Covid and now I have it also with underlying conditions,” she added this: “I will be fine.” Well sure. Of course. And maybe she didn’t have CV-19 after all, with testing reliability being what it is. Every time I’ve sneezed over the past 10 months, it’s like I’m seeing tiny skulls and crossbones in the mist. Yeah, we’re all on edge. But it’ll pass.

I’d scroll across an occasional update – she and husband Randell are both hospitalized now, oh – but despite the increasingly ominous developments, she was still striking a breezy tone. The dogs kept popping up, and she might toss in a glimpse of what she had for supper in bed. And she continued to be engaged with and outraged by current events, like the posting of the Nashville Christmas Day bombing.
Angelia & Randell
And then, boom, January 6: “Fly high Randell! Now you have all the answers of the universe. Love you always!”

What?

Say what?

Angelia’s reporting had made international headlines 13 Januarys ago, and her fearless dive into an issue for which she was totally unprepared was matched only by the principled stand she made weeks later, when she realized she had outgrown the walls of the Empire-Tribune in rural Stephenville, Tex. It was an incident that other reporters might have easily blown off; instead, it would become one of the most well-documented cases ever. It caught Carswell Air Force Base in a lie, forced a public retraction that vindicated the eyewitnesses, and raised questions about national security that remain unresolved to this day.

In fact, if the Pentagon’s Unidentified Aerial Phenomena Task Force is serious about its obligations to Congress come June, a fuller accounting of what happened when this reportedly massive enigma encroached on the no-fly zone above President Bush’s residence should be near the top of its to-do list. Less than seven years after 9/11, bin Laden still at large, an apparent flying machine without a transponder making a steady southeast beeline for the “western White House” in Crawford, the F-16s that were within eyesight of the thing an hour earlier suddenly nowhere to be found – and no military records exist? Really?

What little we do know, cobbled together largely through the detailed reconstruction of civilian radar data, is on file with the Scientific Coalition for UAP Studies. But the only reason we know anything at all is because Angelia decided to believe the witnesses who contacted her.

The piece did massive traffic – reporters from as far as Japan came to town, she shared the story on CNN’s Larry King Live, NPR, etc. etc. – but several weeks later, an editor informed her it was time to get back to local meat ‘n’ taters; after all, she was the paper’s only full-time reporter. Angelia argued the story was huge, it needed more coverage. The boss said no. Angelia submitted a two-week notice. The next day, her desk had been cleared out and she was told to scat.

Life in newspaperland.

When I learned the bad news on Friday, I went back over her FB posts for the past month, where she was unknowingly writing the final chapter of her life. It had gotten real on 12/16, with an update that she and Randell were both in the hospital in Stephenville. But this was more than a diary. This was a bedside plea for her 2,453 FB friends to mask up and wake up.

12/17: “Randell is in ICU on 60% supplemental oxygen … Do whatever you can to avoid Covid. It’s a really awful disease. Get the vaccine. You don’t want this.”

Her narrative was an ebb and flow of light and dark, hope versus reality. On 12/19, she linked to an Arkansas woman’s story who, given “just minutes to live,” has survived in “a miracle.” One day later, Randell was off the BiPap machine and “may go home tomorrow. I may go home tomorrow.” 12/21: “We won’t be going anywhere today.” 12/23: “The good news is the hospital has been sent helpers from FEMA. The bad news is I’m going backwards in my breathing for some reason …”

Through it all, she celebrated Trump’s courtroom defeats and Christmas memories alike. If only she could get on the other side of 2020. But the numbers kept stacking up.

12/24: Link to “Texas college student, 21, dies after long battle with COVID-19.” 12/25: “Very slow going to get weaned off the oxygen. And Randell on more than me.” 12/26: “Diminished lung capacity. Has to get better than this!” 12/29: “Still cannot get up without breathing hard, huffing and puffing.” 12/30: Link to “Congressman-elect Luke Letlow dies after Covid diagnosis.” A photo of her bleak hospital corridor: “So scary.” Link to “’Gilligan’s Island’ Star Dawn Welles Who Played Mary Ann Dead at 82 from COVID.’”

12/31: “I wasn’t able to stay on the lower amount of oxygen. It was okay while I was still but when I got up my saturation sunk like a rock and I could not breathe…” She shared a story about a man in Santa Fe who who sued New Mexico for the right to touch his wife, confined to a memory care clinic. Then came a picture of her grandson in a high chair, Christmas tree in the background. And a shout-out to her many friends, who bombarded her with encouragement: “Happy New Year! I hope everyone has a great 2021!”

1/2/21: “It makes all the difference to have a great nurse who understands panic attacks. Thank you Jeannie!” Another pitch for homeless dogs: “Can anyone help?” More news from quarantine: “Please stay home. This disease is nothing like the flu or any other pneumonia I’ve had.”

Another repost on 1/3: “Virginia state senator dies from COVID-19.” Forty minutes later: “So hard to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I instinctively want to mouth breathe …” 1/4: “Randell needs every prayer you can muster!” Then: “They are looking for a bed for him in a bigger hospital. He could not keep going like he was.” Hours later, Randell has been airlifted to another hospital: “… I feel your love and support wrapped around me. It is very much appreciated. We need a miracle.”

1/5: Repost of a BBC piece, “Mum’s ‘heartbreaking’ death next to daughter in hospital.” Angelia: “So sad. The treatment is hard to take. I understand not wanting to suffer anymore.”

1/6: Randell succumbs to CV-19 on the day of the insurrection in Washington. Hours later: “Friends and family I am Being moved to ICU now. Can’t maintain my oxygen in regular room now.” She issues a few followup statements in the comment thread: “I am trying to fight but I am so weary,” “I would be a fool to say I’m not scared to death …”

That was it.

On Thursday, nearly 13 years to the day the great mystery drifted over Texas cattle country on Jan. 8, 2008, Angelia Joiner joined 3,431 other Americans killed by the plague in a single day. They will not be needing convalescent plasma, herd immunity, disposable gloves, thoughts, prayers, masks, ventilators, vaccines, stimulus payments, rehab, face shields, antibody tests, nasal swabs, 10-day quarantines, social distancing, Purell, beds in the hospital gift shop, or contactless pizza delivery.

Those are for us, the lucky ones they’ve left behind.

Monday, April 11, 2016

Leonard Nimoy: "My Alien Life"

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Leonard Nimoy: "My Alien Life"

     Leonard liked to tell people that he had been born in Boston, his parents had come to America as immigrants, aliens, and then he went to Hollywood to become an alien.
By William Shatner
www.stuff.co.nz
4-10-16

If there was a character that he drew on to create the sense of alienation he needed, it probably came from one of his favourite movies, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, in which the great Charles Laughton created the unforgettable Quasimodo. Quasimodo was the essential outsider, and Leonard had so much empathy for him that he wanted to cry when he saw that movie.

He wanted the audience to empathise with Spock, who was caught in an internal struggle between his human side and his Vulcan side, which resulted in a continuous struggle between logic and emotion. [...]

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Lloyd, Wherever You Are, Take a Bow ... Rest in Peace


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Lloyd Pye

Attention David Lynch

By Billy Cox
De Void
12-12-13

     By simply remembering their names, history rewards those who prevail against conventional wisdom and expose the experts for whiny laggards. Heinrich Schliemann, who discovered the fabled ruins of Troy, and George Clark, who discovered dodo bones after the extinct birds had been relegated to myth, were once dismissed as flakes. And for every Schliemann and Clark, there are countless Lloyd Pyes for whom time simply runs out.

Lloyd’s number came up far too soon Monday, at age 67, and well short of his stated destination of rewriting human history. But what an amazing, quixotic journey for the native Louisianan and his 14-year companion, a nine-century-old skull he called Starchild. On the playing field of human endeavor, the former running back for Tulane surely rates a few cheers for tenacity.

I met Lloyd in Metarie in 1999. He lived in a one-bedroom apartment and drove a beat-up Buick Roadmaster whose odometer indicated it was just a few thousand miles shy of Earth to the moon. He was smart, intense and funny, with a self-deprecating drawl that belied a fierce command of arcane vocabularies, from arthrology to cryptozoology. And so much for corporate ladders and the psychology degree. “I couldn’t see myself listening to people piss and moan all day long,” he said of his career choices, “and I’m not enough of a materialist or a humanitarian to go into law or medicine.”

Instead, Lloyd pursued the missing links in human evolution. The obsession led him into the fog of Bigfoot and Zecharia Sitchin and the Mesopotamian Anunnaki and planet Nibiru. He rejected Creationism and Darwinism for another option called Interventionalism. He had just published the audaciously titled Everything You Know is Wrong. Then suddenly, a bolt from the blue — Lloyd found himself in possession of two apparently Pre-Columbian skulls. Kismet. It was almost too good to be true. One was so egregiously deformed he theorized it could be that of an alien being, or no less than a hybrid. The details are available at his web site. And yet, Starchild struck a universal and totally human chord.

“All my life,” he said, “I’ve wanted to do something that wasn’t just different, but something with value, something with meaning.” Maybe Starchild was the smoking gun. If only he could prove it. But that would take big bucks. And, to paraphrase Clint Eastwood, Lloyd Pye was a man who knew his limitations. “Truthfully,” he admitted, “my fundraising skills are so sparse, I’m not sure I could raise dust on a dirt farm.”

Lloyd spent the next 14 years consulting with scientists, labs, and investors on a see-saw of dashed hopes and dead ends, glimmers of hope and second wind. Cautiously baffled expert opinion on Starchild ranged from neuromuscular freak to cradleboarded hydrocephalic. And then, in February, the last time I saw Lloyd, he rolled into Sarasota with his girlfriend Vivienne, trumpeting a breakthrough: He’d found a sugar daddy in Tampa willing to start a foundation to subject Starchild to the pricey rigors of a Genome Sequencer. It was the best chance of resolving the DNA mystery once and for all.

But there was a problem — Wikipedia.

Lloyd said Wiki’s “Starchild skull” entry, created by a Yale Medical School neurologist and member of the New England Skeptics Society, was outdated, incomplete, and misleading. Potential investors for whom Wikipedia might be their only exposure to the controversy would likely walk away after a quick read. Particularly galling to him was this line: “[Pye and an associate] claim that they have consulted with 50 experts (whom they will not disclose) yet not one of the experts was able to adequately explain the Starchild’s appearance on the basis of a natural deformity.” But that clearly wasn’t true. Lloyd’s website listed at least 10 medical professionals who’d analyzed the skull — pediatricians, radiologists, ophthalmologists, neurocranial plastic surgeons. Lloyd's attempts to get the Wiki info corrected were futile. There wasn’t much De Void could do but blog about it.

And that was pretty much it, until July, when Lloyd sent out an email blast saying he’d been diagnosed with inoperable stomach cancer, and that he was heading to Europe for alternative therapies. But when his travels ended a few days ago, he was back where he started, in Louisiana, with family.

It’s not clear what happens to the Starchild Project now, but it’s safe to say the orphaned skull will never have a more passionate or colorful advocate. Maybe, coming as it did before serious DNA mapping could begin, Lloyd’s death spared him the ultimate blow. When I asked what it would mean for him if Starchild turned out to be human, he just sighed. “I’m a blowed-up peckerwood, that’s all there is to say. I’m as low or lower than when I started. It’s going to be really, really bad.”

So, Lloyd, wherever you are, take a bow. The road less traveled is full of thorns and snakes, but you made the trip anyway, without a flashlight, without a map, trusting yourself — as Kipling wrote — when all men doubt you. It may not be good enough for history, but it’s good enough for now. Rest in peace.

Oh, and p.s.: That Wikipedia error you were pissed about? It’s been deleted.

Friday, December 13, 2013

Starchild Skull - UFO Researcher Memorial - Lloyd Pye (RIP) | VIDEO


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Lloyd Pye Interview By OpenMinds (Date Unknown)



By OpenMinds
YouTube
12-11-13

     The truth is something Lloyd Pye has been searching for his entire life. Born September 7, 1946 in Houma, Louisiana he earned a football scholarship to Tulane University in New Orleans as a Running back and Punter.. He graduated with a B.S. in psychology and from there joined the U.S. Army as a military intelligence specialist.

Pye began writing in 1975, and became a screenwriter in the 1980s. He worked on the TV Series 'Scarecrow and Mrs. King' about a spy and a housewife. In 1995 he transitioned from fiction to non-fiction.

His career as researcher, speaker and author led him to his work with the Star child Skull and since 1999, Lloyd Pye and The Star child Project have studied a 900-year-old human-like skull trying to find answers about it's true origin. That has been his primary focus and in 2011 at the IUFOC he spoke about his about findings.


One of the more frustrating aspects to Pye's work was going up against what he described as the "brainwashing" that goes on in the education system as well as his frustration with breaking beyond the barriers of contemporary science's viewpoints.

On July 21st of this year Pye posted this video on his Facebook page. In the video he spoke about his plans to search for alternative healing practices outside the US. His nephew posted this message on December 9th.

This is Lloyd's nephew. Lloyd Pye passed away at approximately 6:15 PM CT USA. Lloyd was surrounded by family and died in his mother's arms. The family is asking for privacy at this time as we deal with the loss. We will post additional information in the near future. Thank you to all of his friends and fans for your support, prayers and love. He loved you all deeply.

That message was then followed by this one:

We have had requests for a way to send cards and letters to the family. Cards and letters can be sent to Lloyd's family care of Bryan S. Stone, PO Box 1413, Destin, FL 32540.

Lloyd Pye truly had a gift at taking complex information and delivering that information in a way that everyone could understand. His enthusiasm for his work was infectious and it was something he held on too until the very end.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Mainstream Media Pays Homage To Jesse Marcel's Passing


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Jesse Marcel Jr. in Front of Helicopter
This undated photo provided by the family, shows Jesse Marcel Jr. Marcel, who said he handled debris from the 1947 crash of an unidentified flying object near Roswell, N.M., has died. He was 76. Denice Marcel said her father was found dead at his home in Helena, Mont., on Saturday, Aug. 24, 2013, less than two months after his last visit to Roswell. (Marcel Family Photo)

Physician who told of handling Roswell debris dies

By AMY BETH HANSON
Associated Press / The Times Union
8-28-13

Editor's Note: The unexpected death of Jesse Marcel Jr. is now being heard around the world; the following article is an example of what's out on the "the wire."–FW

     HELENA, Mont. (AP) — Dr. Jesse Marcel Jr., who said he handled debris from the 1947 crash of an unidentified flying object near Roswell, N.M., has died at the age of 76.

Denice Marcel said her father was found dead at his home in Helena on Saturday, less than two months after making his last trip to Roswell. He had been reading a book about UFOs.

Over the past 35 years, Marcel Jr. appeared on TV shows, documentaries and radio shows; was interviewed for magazine articles and books, and traveled the world lecturing about his experiences in Roswell.

"He was credible. He wasn't lying. He never embellished — only told what he saw," his wife Linda said. . . .

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Jesse Marcel Jr. Recounts The Roswell UFO Incident | VIDEO | IN MEMORIAM


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Jesse Marcel on OpenMinds

Roswell witness Jesse Marcel Jr. passes at 76

By Alejandro Rojas
OpenMinds.tv
8-26-13

     Jesse Marcel Jr. was the son of the U.S. Air Force intelligence officer who first examined the crash debris found by Mac Brazel near Roswell, New Mexico in early July of 1947. His father had told him about the event and had shown him and his mother some of the debris that was recovered. Marcel passed away in his home on Saturday, August 24, due to a suspected heart attack. . . .

Remembering Jesse Marcel Jr. By Dennis Balthaser


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Jesse Marcel Jr.

By Dennis Balthaser
www.truthseekeratroswell.com
8-27-13

     Losing first-hand witnesses of the Roswell Incident to the ravages of time is at an alarming rate, yet it always saddens me to hear of another loss. The news about the passing of Jesse Marcel Jr. on August 24th has moved me deeply, due to having known him and shared many enjoyable, informative moments with him over the years.

Debby and I want to extend our deepest sympathy to Linda, the children and grandchildren. We, as you, will all miss him.

I first met Jesse in 1997 while I was affiliated with the UFO Museum here in Roswell. Since then we had done lectures at several conferences and the highlight was always to spend time with him there, as well as visiting over dinner at night, along with his wife Linda. I remember at an Aztec, NM conference several years ago I was asked to be Master of Ceremonies and had the distinct honor of introducing Jesse. He was always a soft-spoken individual, extremely honest and above all humble in my opinion. He didn’t care much for it when as part of my introduction for him—I would mention that he was an American hero. Nevertheless I always thought of him and his Dad Major Jesse Marcel as just that, and continue to feel that way.

Not to many years ago I had the opportunity to go in the house where Jesse lived here in Roswell as an 11 year old boy in 1947; it was there his Dad, Major Marcel came back from the debris field and woke him up to show him some of the debris from the crash site. I took pictures of the inside of the house and mailed them to Jesse. He responded back that because the house had been remodeled over those 60 years he didn’t recognize anything there.

Today I give Roswell UFO Tours and that house where Jesse lived as a boy is one of the major stops. I talk at length about his Dad’s involvement in the 1947 Roswell Incident and how Jesse reacted to that, so I will not let their involvement fade into the past. I will continue to remind people of their importance to the Roswell Incident, as well as serving their country with the highest honor—which we should all remember and be thankful for.

I always looked forward to writing to Jesse, sometimes sharing my editorials with him, or seeing him at a conference and will definitely miss that, but the recollections I have of him will stay with me forever.

Thanks for the memories Jesse, I’ll miss you.

Jesse Marcel, Jr., I Am Proud to Have Met You, By Mike Fortson


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Jesse & Linda Marcel
Jesse & Linda Marcel; Aztec Symposium 2008 – Credit: Mike Fortson Files

Mike Fortson By Mike Fortson
The UFO Chronicles
© 8-26-13

      In March of 2008, I was invited to be a guest speaker at the Aztec UFO Symposium (in Aztec, New Mexico). I was a replacement speaker for then director of MUFON, James Carrion who had come down with the Flu.

Both my wife and I were eyewitnesses to what I call the “Massive UFO Flyover of Arizona-March 13, 1997,” aka: The Phoenix Lights and our lecture was/is a narration of those events.

I was very excited to be asked again to speak about our sighting of what is arguably one of the biggest UFO events in history, and doubly so knowing that among the names of many of the speakers to be there, was Jesse Marcel Jr., and Stanton Friedman! Both of which I thought I would never have the opportunity to meet.

The day before the event, my wife and I drove from our home in Prescott Valley, AZ., to Aztec, NM. The UFO Symposium lasted for three days—Friday thru Sunday. We all stayed at a quaint bed and breakfast in Aztec. Upon arriving and checking in we met Stanton Friedman as he was coming down the stairs. I introduced myself and was totally surprised he knew my name and had read some of my articles about our sighting on March 13, 1997.

After checking in we went into a large dining area and there he was...Jesse Marcel Jr! I told my wife everything I knew about him and his father. I bought his book, "The Roswell Legacy", and even had a replica of the famed I-Beam.

As we approached his table, Jesse stood up, looked me right in the eye and said "welcome, I'm Jesse and this is my wife Linda." I could tell by his solid handshake and the look in his eye, this is going to be memorable. And it was.

We were invited to sit at their table and we shared drinks, stories, experiences, and more drinks. I thought to myself, after learning so much about Jesse Marcel Jr.—this man is a great American hero. He was still serving his country and had just returned from Iraq, where he was a flight surgeon at the age of 68! What a wonderful life he has had.

The best memory I have is Saturday evening we met up with Dennis Balthaser, his wife, Stanton Friedman and Jessie and Linda. We all went to Farmington, NM., to the Outback Steakhouse. There I was . . . having drinks and dinner with three of the most prominent names associated with the Roswell incident. Wow indeed! What a night. What a weekend.

Those memories will be treasured by me forever.

Sunday evening (8/25/13) I read the sad news of Jesse's passing. I am truly honored to have met this great man. Although our time together was brief, the impression he left on me was profound.

May God have a special place for you Jesse.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Memories of Jesse Marcel By Kevin Randle


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Jesse Marcel


Jesse Marcel Has Died


By Kevin Randle
kevinrandle.blogspot.com
8-25-13

     Just minutes ago I received some very sad news. Jesse Marcel, Jr. died of a heart attack on August 24. He was alone, at home, apparently reading a UFO book when he died.

I have known Jesse for more than a quarter century. I first met him while we both were in Roswell to film a segment for the old Unsolved Mysteries that aired on NBC. We had gone out to dinner with a number of those in town for the program and since we shared a military background, including that of Army Aviation, we connected immediately. As medical doctor, he was trained as a flight surgeon and I, of course, had been a helicopter pilot.

From that point I met him quite a few times as we both explored the Roswell UFO crash case. He, as a young man, boy really, of eleven was exposed to metallic debris that his father had brought home late that July night. He told the story to all who would listen with little in the way of variation.

I learned of the special bond he’d had with his father. He told me that that one day, he had asked his father what the atomic bomb looked like and Jesse, Sr. had drawn a picture of “Fat Man.” He then shredded it and burned the pieces. Although reluctant to share they story outside a small circle of friends, he did mention it at the Citizen Hearing in Washington this last May.

Over the years, I had the opportunity to interact with Jesse and never had reason to doubt his sincerity. He truly believed that he had handled material made on another planet and might have the first person in modern history to have seen writing created on another world. He had small, replica I-beams made with those symbols on it, and while it is just a replica, it is a very interesting one.

But what I think of mostly, these days is his military service. He had retired from the Montana National Guard as a colonel but was recalled to active duty for service in Iraq. Before he deployed, he asked me if he should take a personal computer with him and I said it had been the best investment I had made, if only for the DVD player in it.

His service there seems to have affected him more deeply than did mine. He spent a year there treating those who needed his help, but came back suffering from PTSD. The deployment cost him his medical practice because he could no longer trust his hands. Loud, sudden noises caused him to jump. He was more on edge, nervous, than he had been before going to Iraq. It was something that the government failed to recognize in the way they should have. He was a patriot who served without complaint, did what was asked of him and made the sacrifices he had to make.

I last saw Jesse in Washington, D.C. in May. He was there with several familymembers and offered his story to the former representatives and senators. They all seemed captivated by what he said, probably because he was one of the few first-hand witnesses to some of the Roswell events present. While many of us could talk of what we had been told by witnesses over the years, Jesse could talk about what he had seen and done personally in July 1947. He handled the debris.

He did call the International UFO Museum in Roswell this year telling them that this would probably be the last year he could attend. His health, while seeming not all that bad, did limit what he could do and how far he could travel. I suspect that he thought his health would deteriorate making a trip to Roswell extremely difficult if not impossible in the near future.

Jesse was a friend and a fellow warrior. I always believed that he understood more about my service in foreign lands because he shared those experiences. We connected on a level that others could not because of that military experience. Though we were never in the war zones at the same time, we did see many of the same places under similar circumstances. He served when he was needed, helped those who needed it, and contributed to our knowledge. I know that I will miss him, though not as much as his family

Saturday, August 17, 2013

A Tribute To Radio Host Kevin Smith – RIP



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Courtney Brown By Courtney Brown
www.courtneybrown.com/
8-15-13

     Many people on this planet lost a great leader and inspiration with the passing of Kevin Smith on Wednesday, 14 August 2013. Kevin Smith, the pioneering radio talk show host and upcoming rock artist, was a good friend of mine who died of complications related to a heart attack. While we all value our friends, we value some people in ways that transcend friendship. The gift which they offer humanity by simply Being who they are becomes inseparable from the memories of any and all personal interactions that we have with them. They define themselves in our hearts by the magnitude of their presence, their spirit, their vision. Kevin Smith was one of those people. Most people know of him through his efforts as a radio host who brought a needed level of maturity and calm to subjects often thought of as fringe by the mainstream media. His interviews with guests on his show acted as a picture frame to portray subjects ranging from deep sea exploration, remote viewing, UFOs, and extraterrestrial life with a level of respect and balanced depth of coverage that few can match in the today’s world of broadcast journalism.

Kevin was also a technical wizard. He personally set-up and managed a complex collection of computers and other equipment where he recorded his guests on high-quality video using Skype. This was no easy accomplishment since it involved a delicate balance of machinery and advanced software. His show looked like it was run by a studio with lots of backup. But it was all him, and no one else. He edited his final videos using Sony Vegas Pro, blending an assortment of marvelously chosen rock musical pieces during the breaks that highlighted upcoming new artists willing to have their works showcased without requiring royalty payments. The breaks in his show were as interesting to listen to as the guests. He also took great care in how he set up his own presence on the video for his show. You never saw him in his living room. Rather, he constructed a portable black screen that he placed behind himself, and then he arranged the lighting so that his own image literally “popped” out at you. I was so impressed by his arrangement that I asked him for help in setting up my own interview studio that I would use when I was a guest. Web cam interviews never looked so good on a technical level as those of Kevin Smith’s. I once asked him why he did not have other people do some of the tech stuff for him, and he told me that he learned not to waste “expects” on other people, as in “expectations” that they would always be there to help him create his vision. What he was to contribute to this world was his vision, and there was no one else capable of creating it but himself, a point applicable to everyone and well worth remembering.

Kevin loved rock music, infectiously so. Within the past year, he took about a month (during October and November of 2012) to study guitar 10-12 hours a day. I have never seen someone learn how to play the guitar so well in so short a time. He immediately thereafter helped form two rock bands, Terranomaly and BentBrain. Together with his band mates from Terranomaly, he created his own record label. They ferociously leveraged the social media potential of the Internet to successfully spread the word of their music. And he had lots of music; he wrote two rock songs a week. By August 2013, a major studio offered to sign the group and send them on tour. It was all to begin in just a few weeks. Not bad for a 60 year old brand new rocker.

As was typical of Kevin, when he did anything new, he did it with an emersion that was complete. In this new rock phase of his life, he completely changed the way he looked. He grew his hair long, and began to wear a fashionable beard. He bought a new wardrobe, and started wearing an assortment of great looking wide-brim hats, especially on screen. How many people of any age can reinvent themselves so thoroughly in such a short period of time and in such an interesting way? He was ready to rock, and the music industry and world was ready to rock with him.

If I may be so bold, I would like to offer a suggestion as to how Kevin Smith would like to be remembered. I could be wrong, but my thought is that he would like to be remembered not just for his radio show, or his music, but rather for the way he lived his life. This was a man who never let anyone tell him how to live his life. The rules of society that state that someone must act a certain way at a certain age simply did not relate to Kevin. The rules bounced off him like water from the back of a duck. That was his great gift to the world. He showed us all, by his own example, that it is possible to live a life free from the widespread disease of conformity. Conformity is probably the most serious disease affecting our world today. Indeed, it arguably kills more people than any other disease. Every time we let others dictate either overtly or subconsciously how we should live our lives, we have already died. We exist on this planet only to experience the exuberance of Beingness. Once we surrender who we are to the norms of the collective, we no longer exist as ourselves. We lose ourselves in the expectations of others. Well, Kevin never wasted the “expects” of others on himself. He was a man who lived life on his own terms. That is the true reason why he was a visionary. It was never about what he did; it was always about who he was.

If there is one cautionary tale that would be good to mention regarding Kevin Smith’s life, it is this. He was a chain smoker, and that more than anything else is probably what killed him. At the moment of his greatest reinvention of himself, his heart could not take the pounding any longer. For those young people reading this, including some of my own relatives, take this lesson to heart. Be yourself as no one else on this planet can be. Thrive with the joy of knowing that you truly are unique and that no one else can make your mark on this world. But also take care of your body. Although each of our personalities, Being, is immortal, our physical bodies must one day come to an end. For Kevin, it was only the conforming pressures of others who influenced him to begin smoking so many years ago, and once the chemical addiction began, breaking it was the gorilla that could never be shaken off his back. I think Kevin would not mind me advising all people today, especially the younger generation, by warning that the tobacco companies assert their conforming pressures through the addictive chemicals that they mix with their toxic tobacco brew. I truly believe that Kevin would want others to be free from this trap. Kevin Smith’s true message is to live a free life. He guides us who remain on this planet with his great successes, but also with his failure to protect his body from the ravages of smoking. He would want us to learn from all parts of his experience, for there is nothing that people want more in their lives than to be happy as a result of living unique lives in states of total inner freedom.