My sweet Lord.
What can I say...what can I really say to such news?
I of course remember the beginnings of the whole R&D phenomenon. I was not there at the creation, of course, but I well remember the first time I ever came across the text-based version of the newsletter. And then the glory days began, when it was hosted in HTML format at both Wren's Spot and (prohibited L). It was then that I started a correspondence with the editor of the newsletter. That would be
Al.
Al aka
Axolotl aka
Some Sort of Dog aka
Road Dog aka
doggo (damn, he had more aliases than Sydney Bristow or
Prince) and I started writing letters back and forth, via the magic of the Internet, connecting us, he in England, and I traipsing through west and central Africa. That was quite a time. He had this mischievious way and attitude about him that was infectious. He would match me pun for pun, he would follow through on my more harebrained schemes, he would set me right about many misconceptions I would have about the true origins of certain models, and he would do it all with unfailing good humor. As you may imagine, back in the day, Internet access was neither inexpensive nor easy to come by in deepest darkest Africa, and I tallied quite a large phone bill while keeping up my correspondence with him. But he made it entirely worth my while. And it was with joy that I finally got myself my own machine, so that I would not need to be accosted by freelance preachers as I tried to enjoy the latest edition of R&D down at one cybercafé or another.
He encouraged me to try and put down on paper some of my own ideas for big-bust or BE fiction, but I must confess, as I did to him, that trying to follow in the footsteps of such prolific writers as himself or
Plato Voltaire or
Richard O Steele was daunting indeed. He never stopped trying to make do it though. With his encouragement, I started trying to contribute to R&D in the form of a (very short-lived) "fashion" column. Yeah, T's Tips, that was my work. (I know you all blinked and so you all missed it. Oh well. It wasn't for want of trying on
Al's part.) But for the most part, I chickened out of doing even more. What could my own meager scribbling do to compare with such
magnum opuses as the very best of the St. Cats' series, "The Fred Experiment", "Something In The Water" or "Dr. Hooters (UK)"?
I still have the binder containing the printouts of all the mail that was slung across the continents between the two of us, and now I shall cherish it even more.
This world has some crazy things in it, but of all the crazy things, here's the craziest: that I could count a man, one who I have never in my life seen with my own two eyes, whose hand I never had the chance to shake, and whose voice I never once heard the sound of, I could and can count him among the greatest, truest, most generous friends I ever had. And only because of the Internet. This world is crazy, it truly is.
I offer my heartfelt and deepest condolences to the two chi!dren he left behind, as well as to his (ex-)wife. They may never come here to read these words, but I shall say that
Al was a giant, a true giant, among all the people here in our far-flung international community.
And in the tradition that I learned from my friends in the African continent, I hereby leave my seat, and shall go outside on this late night, bottle of spirit in hand, and I shall pay homage and respect to the memory of my dear friend
Al.
(pouring my libation to him)Rest in the bosom of
Corinne Meadowlark, old friend. You are missed, deeply missed. Sundays will never be quite the same without you.
(P.S.: I had always wanted to know who "Our Man H" was, or what had happened to him. Now I know.)