******IMPORTANT EDIT 1/21/06********
In late 2005 I learned that Mike/aka. Lucy is still alive. The person who emailed me in August telling me that Lucy had died was, in fact, Lucy himself. For my part, I would not wish him "dead" again for all the world, but I appreciate that this news may meet with a wide range of emotions. For the time being, I am going to leave all my posts exactly as they were, but with this important disclaimer and update.
Hi Ax,
I emailed his friend yesterday afternoon, but have not yet received a response. I know Mike's last name and the city in which he was living, and know that he was being treated at a hospice there. I'm going to research what I can but if anyone knows a better way of finding out what we can about funeary arrangments, let me know.
Some of Lucy's finest phrases can be read in these TORC threads
, which Jnyusa graciously found and bumped:
The "Memento" Thread
"Why are you saying this?" (some of his most thoughtful posts on TORC are in this thread)
Going to Osgiliath: 2004 Edition
Welcome Back! Talented Men of Middle Earth !!!
I didn't want to share this earlier, but I've since thought better of it. The following is from the email I received from Mike's friend:
The letter he left me is personal but I want to share the quote he put at the end.
[Name Removed for Privacy]
"Most of the big shore places were closed now and there were hardly any lights except the shadowy, moving glow of a ferryboat across the Sound. And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors' eyes-a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby's house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an æsthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
And as I sat there, brooding on the old unknown world, I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter-tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning--
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
Mike forgive me, but I wanted to offer my own counter-quote that has given me a measure of peace over the past few hours. About a boat that is not continually beaten back, but sails forward in perpetual light (Ara-anna already mentioned it):
Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all, Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water, and then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.
Godspeed, Mikey.
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to all his friends.
Ah - you're back from vacation. I'll stop by your site later this week.