Yeah, I know death is part of the cycle of life . . . blah, blah, blah. I still hate it. It sucks.
If you don’t want to read a ticked off, moody Murmur, stop and turn back now.
Lately is seems like, a lot of people I know and/or love are dying. It doesn’t help that I’m experiencing other profound changes and a sense of loss in my personal life.
What am I talking about? Who's dead?
Gary Gygax – co-creator of D&D and father of role-playing games recently died.
David Arneson – co-creator of D&D is in poor health.
Bob Bledsaw – the owner and publisher of Judges Guild (the company was big in its day in the early to mid-1980s), died a couple weeks ago. Bob gave me my first break in the RPG industry as an artist. He used me like a two-dollar hooker, but left me with mostly good, lasting memories, pals like Paul Jacques, and helped make me a household name in the game biz in the 1980s. Okay, a name only in households that played D&D, but you get the idea. It still surprises me when old timers (or new gamers discovering old stuff) tell me how much they lOVED my Judges Guild artwork or how it inspired them. Thanks, fellas. Thanks, Bob.
Keith Parkinson – one of the true great fantasy artists of all time, and a long time buddy, died only a few years ago. He was only in his forties. Leukemia took his life way too soon. Keith did the original Rifts® RPG cover, Rifts® Atlantis, Rifts® England, Mutants in Orbit, Monsters and Animals, Adventures in the Northern Wilderness (also known as Arcane Summons – one of my all time favorites), a zillion Dungeons and Dragons/TSR covers, some famous Everquest artwork, book covers, and so much more. We came up in the business around the same time and talked on the phone for hours about art and family, our hopes and dreams, visited each other’s home . . . He died way to soon. Keith's been on my mind, because someone contacted me about his paintings.
Leonard Klonicki – passed away yesterday. He was 83 or 84 years old, had a long history of heart trouble and his health was in decline for the last few years, ever since Aunt Jo died. We all thought he was a gonner back in January when he had a heart attack and a stroke, but he recovered. Heck, he and I spoke just last week. He sounded great. So it was something of a shock when I got the call that he died in the hospital Tuesday Morning, 1:30 A.M.
Leonard or “Len” was better known to me as “Uncle Skip.” I didn’t know he and my dear, Aunt Jo, were not my real Aunt and Uncle until I was 13 or 14. They were life long friends of my Mom and Dad from my Dad’s days in the Air Force. But to me and my brother, Brian, they were family. Leonard was Uncle Skip/i]. He earned the nickname “Skip” during his days in the USA Air Force in the South Pacific during [i]World War II. “Skip” was a cook, and he got his nickname because he’d move so fast, practically skipping, from one oven to the next to get the meals done for 300+ men. He took my Dad under his wing in Saulte Saint Marie, Michigan in the early 1950's. Skip and Jo, Hank and Flo, became fast friends. Best friends. A friendship that lasted the test of time for nearly SIX DECADES.
Over the years, the "Skip" nickname faded away, and it turns out, my Dad and I were the only ones still calling him Skip. He told me that about 10 years ago. I asked if he’d like me to call him Uncle Leonard and he laughed his booming, husky laugh of his and said, “Heck no, Kev. I like it. You've been calling me Uncle Skip all these years, why stop now, eh?”
Uncle Skip was a flawed man. He battled his share of demons, gave up drinking after he did or said something that struck him hard in the gut, and he quit, cold-turkey! That was something like 30 years ago. He had his prejudices and flaws, but he was always good to me. Loving and kind. A better Uncle to me than most of my blood relations. He was loud, boisterous, fun, funny, and always kind and understanding to me. I love you Uncle Skip. I hope you’re with Flo (my Mom) and your loving wife, Jo, playing cards and making them laugh like you always could. I will never forget that booming laugh of yours or your vibrant personality. God bless.
Dave Stevens – today, glancing through a copy of Heavy Metal magazine at the comic shop, I discovered that, artist, Dave Stevens passed away. He was only 53. My knee-jerk reaction was, “What the F---! Is everybody I know f---in’ dying!!!”
Dave Stevens is best known as the creator of The Rocketeer and his gorgeous pin-up girl art. I admired his artistry immensely and regret having had to sell the Dave Stevens/Dave Dorman Rocketeer comic book cover painting I owned. I loved that piece, but to keep Palladium going . . . well, you all know that story.
I only met Dave once. My Pal, Brom, introduced us. It was an honor just to meet the man, and I appreciated that he took the time to offer me advice and share a very personal and painful experience so that I might avoid the same pitfall. I walked away thinking, “Wow, what a great guy.” I was stunned to learn he had recently died. In fact, I was too shaken to even read the memorial. Another great talent gone before his time.
And then there’s my beautiful friend, Erick Wujcik. By now, I would imagine all of you know that Erick is dying of terminal cancer. At this point, Doctors believe his time is measured in days or weeks at best. I thought I had come to terms with Erick’s illness and inevitable passing. He is handling it with amazing calm, grace and dignitiy. He tells me he has only joy in heart.
Me too. I only have the most wonderful memories my wonderful friend, Erick Wujcik. I’ve come to accept that his days are numbered. I smile at one of my favorite lines from the film, Gladiator: “Death smiles at us all, all a man can do is smile back.” Yep, I thought I had it all under control. I guess not.
This afternoon I had taken some time off, had a friend over, and the TV on. We were talking and half-watching the movie Western, Tombstone. It is one of my faves. In it, Kirk Russell plays Wyatt Erp and Val Kilmer plays Doc Holiday. All the gun-play was over and it was the scene where Wyatt is visiting Doc Holiday in the hospital. Doc is dying. He tells Wyatt, “If you ever cared about me as a friend, please leave. Now.” Wyatt, grudgingly agrees, and says, "Thanks for always being there when I needed you, Doc." And with those words, I lose it completely. Balled like a baby. I couldn’t help thinking of Erick. He is my Doc Holiday. Always a good friend. Always there when I needed him. Riding into the sunset together after taking down the bad guys or dealing with the latest challenge. We’ve done so, for almost 30 years now. (Alex is another great friend who has always been there for me, but he’s more Mr. Spock to my Captain Kirk.) Erick, is fast on the draw, and he shot from the hip faster and sharper than most. He helped me, defended me online, shared his deepest hopes, dreams, ideas and secrets with me. He is my Doc Holiday. At least that film version depiction of him. God, I will miss you Erick. I dread the call to tell me you are gone. I love you, my friend. And I will miss you.
FYI: I’ll be okay. It's just all been building up and I needed to get this stuff of my chest. Death is a part of life. It sucks, but life's not easy sometimes. I was knocked off my game this week by the news of Uncle Skip and Dave Stevens, both an unwelcomed surprise. I’ll be okay and back in the saddle before you know it.
Sincerely,
Kevin Siembieda
Publisher, Writer, Artist, and A Little Weary Today
© Copyright May 14, 2008 Palladium Books Inc. All rights reserved.
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