The news hits like a punch to the jaw. Pow! Wham! Zowie! Another icon of my youth has gone. Adam West was the Batman I knew, I grew up with his campy depiction. This benediction keeps him ensconced in my heart and mind for all time. Godspeed and rest, Adam West! Pow! Wham! Zowie! R.I.P.!
Prayers for the fallen soldiers, men and women who had dared and had dreamed and bled, and were left for dead. (They) Faced the fire of hell in every battle and storm. (They) Carved their fingernails into stone and opened the doors of freedom, each body returning in brown boxes. (They) Sadly, rarely made the papers. God rest the fallen heroes!
I. A stone marks your presence, yet the essence of you lives within me.
II. Memories and heart felt emotions fill the corners of my rapturous soul. Amidst these rows and rows of monuments, of marble and granite.
III. You are both remembered long since you departed with pieces of my heart, buried with you, as much as pieces of your lives live within me.
IV. I come to celebrate you, feting each life as a part of me, a solid foundation upon which I was built. The only guilt I bear is not being there to tell you, “I love you” often enough.
V. Of granite and stone your time has been marked, a stark reality to the soft and caring souls you were in this life of love and wonder. Under this marker you lie; deep within my heart you remain, an eternal blessing.
VI. Rest comes shrouded in stone, shadows of death left to languish, grounded in seclusion; isolation. Marked in granite, planet Earth receives all that remains. Spoils for the soil.
***Mayor James D. “Jimmy” Griffin was a tireless public servant who dedicated his life to making Buffalo, N.Y. a better place. His passion for helping others, his love of this community and his unique, independent leadership has been celebrated in the many stories that have been shared all over Western New York since his death in 2008.
In 2009, the plaza outside the ballpark that Mayor Griffin championed, Coca-Cola Field , was named in his honor. A commemorative plaque was placed in the plaza at a dedication on June 30, 2009. In addition to the plaque, the above statue in Mayor Griffin’s honor was erected in James D. Griffin Plaza.
“Where you going, Champ?” “What are you up to, Champ?” “No street shoes on the court, Champ!”
He called us Champ, and he made us feel like one, and we were better off when he was done
teaching the finer points, though his finger joints were mangled and twisted, he insisted, you were a Champ!
Gray sweatshirt, rubber soled oxfords, encouraging words for his athletes and us Champs. Salted brush cut,
horn-rimmed specs and a heck of a set shot, you got all you could get from the man with the craggy chin and his whistle
clenched between his teeth. No disrespect, but he came with the building, whether he was building character or building
a winning team, it would always seem he got the best from the best, and all the rest. I guess that’s why he called us “Champs”!
~Walter J. Wojtanik
A tribute to one of the finest guys I would come to know in my life. A teacher, a mentor, a real leader. The original champ! Leo Newton, athletic director and coach at Our Lady of Victory School in Lackawanna, N.Y.
I heard your voice years ago, soft, haunting, tender and strong – Was it wrong that I thought you were the music man I’d most like to be?
You were Canadian after all! I’m not supposed to care, but there you sang of early morning rains and a steel tied Canadian Railroad in Trilogy.
From morning’s first light until sundown, it’s worth believin’ that all the lovely ladies would fawn over you, the minstrel of the dawn.
Softly winding down carefree highways, and me living vicariously through the golden voice of my choice. If you could read my mind, you would know.
If I could, I would have been Alberta Bound and found the visions of which you sang, tilting at windmills, the thrill of a modern day Don Quixote, Sancho Panza at the flank.
I thank you for being a sage of my youth. Your songs were beautiful and warming; songs for a winter’s night, not so alarming. And the day you would first herald the tragic wreck
of the Edmund Fitzgerald, I knew you spoke to all within the sound of your voice. You are what I am, or aspire to be. I’m not sayin‘ I could be you, just that through you, I saw the world.
This is my song. This strong connection has lasted long into my adulthood. It is as good as Gord’s Gold. Without you, I’d be less sure. It would be a black day in July when I would shy away from your wisdom.
You’ve given the world much to ponder all the same. By the way, did she mention my name?
Leonard Nimoy, the sonorous, gaunt-faced actor who won a worshipful global following as Mr. Spock, the resolutely logical human-alien first officer of the Starship Enterprise in the television and movie juggernaut “Star Trek,” died on Friday morning at his home in the Bel Air section of Los Angeles. He was 83. He had chronic COPD ( chronic obstructive pulmonary disease ).
~By Virginia Heffernan of The New York Times
The multi-talented Nimoy was an actor, director, photographer, and recoding artist. He was also an accomplished poet. Visit these sites to read some of Leonard’s works:
Your journey has ended, by your hand and much too soon. You, the buffoon, the clown, the genius bringing joy to the world. But, for what it’s worth, who gave you mirth? Your torment was an illness, your illness was your privacy. In the shadows of a mind so sharp, that spark of madness run amok. You had been stuck for a while and the smile you wore tore your heart to shreds. We laughed at your brand, and demanded more of you but, you had given enough. It is tough that you didn’t save some for yourself. We took you seriously when your dramatics gripped us. It ripped us as well, your living hell of which you would tell, of powders and pills and rivulets of distilled potions, notions of answers left un-questioned; too many to mention. You’ve gone back to the egg. You have been silenced like Ellen James. Long did you stand as the grown-up Pan. You have sucked the marrow out of this life. There is no Doubt (the) fire has gone out. It makes us want to shout, Oh Captain, My Captain! Thank you for your gift, we’ve enjoyed it while it lasted. And in our hearts you will live within a smile. What dreams may come, you will greet us. You will meet us with a joke in tow. We know your journey has ended. The Genie has been freed. The Buffoon. The Clown. The Genius indeed. Oh, Captain, Bon Voyage!