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Übersetzung von Robert Jordans Blog
A word from Harriet & Wilson2009-10-21 15:17:44übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) On October 27, Book 12 of The Wheel of Time, THE GATHERING STORM, goes on sale nationally. Completed by Brandon Sanderson from notes and partials left by Robert Jordan, it is very good. I was its editor, as I was editor on ALL the Wheel books, and Maria Simons, Jordan's right hand for over 12 years, and Alan Romanczuk, Jordan's left hand (just because you can't have two right hands unless you are … Shiva, is it?) have worked very closely with Brandon as well. We three — Harriet, Maria, and Alan — have really worked as Team Jordan on this book, and will do so on the following two, which will complete the Wheel. Book 13 will be titled TOWERS OF MIDNIGHT, and Book 14 will be A MEMORY OF LIGHT. Even Jordan couldn't have written everything he left in one volume, although he thought he could. But you recall that he thought he could write the entire Wheel in six volumes. Try THE GATHERING STORM. I think you'll like it a lot. I do. Best, Harriet McDougal Update: Some additional comments from Wilson: I was a Jordan fan before he was Jordan. The Warrior God was my childhood idol, the big brother I didn't have. Love is too weak a word to describe my feelings for Jim. I would do anything for him and would defend him with my life. That includes defending his work. Saying that, I could not be more pleased with the work done by Team Jordan: Harriet, Brandon, Maria and Alan. The Gathering Storm masterfully continues Jim's story in a manner that would be pleasing to the creator himself. There are countless "oh my!" moments. The pace is staggering. I fear that there will be many WOT fans who will loose sleep on the 27th because they just won't be able to find a stopping point. I said before on this blog, that I loved Jim for bringing Harriet into my life. A grander lady there is not. Still what she has done in orchestrating and beautifully completing Jim's work has raised her stock even more. Love you sis. The Warrior Angel is surely smiling. Congratulations to Team Jordan. Can't wait till next year. Wilson Brother/Cousin 4th of 3
The Stone2008-10-06 21:45:25übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) Friday was a beautiful day in the Two Rivers. There was a gentle breeze blowing inland and the sky was crystal. Perfect. Unlike the services a year ago, the laying of the ledger stone on Jim's grave was a quiet family affair. So, with apologies, I won't share the details. Jim's resting place is identified with a marker that will last for a few hundred years. I found myself thinking that his work will outlive even the marble on his grave. The stone is simple in form. It is etched with a few words which perfectly describe the gentle giant of a man that he was….. James Oliver Rigney, Jr. Born October 17, 1948 Died September 16, 2007 FatherStory Teller SoldierSinger
Pictures of some of the collection2008-09-10 21:49:21übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) Greg, "The Armorer", Kitchens passed along some more photos of Robert Jordan's weapon collection. He writes: Some have suggested a book of Jim’s collection. While this is a fun idea, I am afraid it is too late. The collection has already been taken down from the walls and distributed among the heirs, other than what we are auctioning now. Please consider posting some of these pictures on the site if you feel it appropriate and in you get the time. They are pictures I took of the collection at various times since Jim’s passing. Many of the items seen will be up for auction and others, of course, will not.
Robert Jordan blade collection now available on eBay2008-09-04 00:35:07übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) The following letter is from Greg Kitchens, the "Armorer" who is facilitating the auction of Robert Jordan's weapon collection on ebay. The first of Robert Jordan’s personal collection of blades are now available on ebay. I have been planning these auctions for a couple of months now and have some thoughts to share. First of all, these are the first of over 100 knives, swords, and various other weaponry owned by RJ. There are plenty more to come so it would be foolish for fans to bid these first blades at astronomical prices. Please, do not go crazy. Also, keep in mind that when Jim Rigney liked something he often bought at least two. Some of his favorites, such as the Nepalese Kukuri, the scimitar, or the traditional Japanese Katana, were highly represented in his collection with multiple variations and examples. If you see something on auction you like, there may be more opportunities to buy something similar. In the listings it will always say that "This is from the personal collection of the late author Robert Jordan whose bestselling Wheel of Time series of books is hugely popular throughout the world". If one goes to ebay and searches "COLLECTION LATE AUTHOR ROBERT JORDAN" and checks the block for "search titles AND descriptions" you will be directed to the blade collection while filtering out the plethora of books and other items out there. Once you find one of the actual listings you may then view the seller’s other auctions. One may also subscribe to ebay to get emails when items are newly posted or bid upon. I will make comments on this site and keep you updated. Jim Rigney was a friend of mine. For some of us sentimental types it is a great honor to own a personal item that meant something to a friend who passed. When the family so graciously made the offer, I selected a Cold Steel Magnum Tanto and an Applegate-Fairbairn fighter from Jim’s collection to go with me to Iraq next year (I likely will need neither for any more than cutting open an MRE, but a good knife does inspire confidence). Later, Wilson later gave me a modernly made katana cane sword that I found in Jim’s bucket of staffs. These are now 3 very special blades to me because they were Jim’s. The family decided to allow me to auction off these remaining items so that fans and collectors, the VERY people who will appreciate and take care of them, will have a chance to own them. That is really what this blade auction is all about. Some of the blades are antiques or highly desirable custom items. I have done thorough research on these blades and will not sell anything unless I am confident that it is what we say it is. There is a “horsehead†saber from the 1830s, a couple of Randall knives, some nice antique Chinese swords, and several others. These items will have value to collectors. If one is a fan AND interested in the particular genre of blade, all the better. ALL items will start at a price that is lower, in some cases MUCH lower, that the flat retail value of the item. RJ owned over a dozen Japanese swords, although most were either modern reproductions or Chinese "fakes". The Chinese swords were made to appear to be old, which they are not. There were two authentic Japanese swords (besides a few military and police swords) and they will both stay in the family. There are also a few newly made, high quality katanas and wakizashis by CAS Iberia/Paul Chen Hanwei. These are fully functional warrior quality blades and are worth significantly more than the Chinese reproductions. Japanese swords, Nihon-to, are classic and legendary weapons and certainly interested RJ. Fans will undoubtedly recognize the influence these blades had on the RJ's design of the Heron marked swords. I have spent a great deal of time studying and researching these historic weapons to make sure they are represented accurately. Many have asked about charities. These blades were left to some close relatives of RJ and each will get a percentage of the net profit and are, thus, free to do with it what they see fit. I do know that at least one recipient plans to donate a portion of the money to the Mayo Clinic and another has mentioned looking after The Citadel (RJ’s school, and mine), but the particulars are not yet decided. Please do not rationalize your decision to bid by telling yourself that "it’s for a good cause". Again, our primary objective is to ensure that RJ’s collection finds its way into the hands of those who appreciate them. We hope that nobody buys something that they cannot realistically afford. We have also put some items off to the side to be charity auctioned or otherwise given away at the upcoming JordanCon. [Editor Note: Dragonmount.com will be raffling off at least one of these items. More info will be posted in our News section when it gets closer to happening.] We have no way of enforcing it but would appreciate it if no one would buy more than two or three blades in total. We hope that several fans get the opportunity to own one of RJ’s personal collectibles. I just hate to limit the sales to US only but made the decision to do just that. My apologies to our overseas friends but shipping blades internationally can get legally complicated and we just do not have an international lawyer on retainer. A knife or sword that one country may view as a harmless tool yet another country sees as a national threat! Customs and unvested carriers add another dimension of risk in ensuring that these items safely get to the buyers. I am new to ebay. If I did this for a living I’d likely be experienced enough to know the ropes for shipping and customs for any given country. There just is not adequate time to properly work it all out. I decided that I do not want to learn the hard lessons the hard way and, in the process, allow something to happen to one of RJ’s blades. If you are overseas and want to bid, perhaps you have a friend in the US to whom we can ship? You would then have the time to thoroughly work out the details in getting it into your particular country. Of course, all buyers are responsible for knowing and complying with their local laws. Again, our international friends have my personal apologies as it was with a heavy heart that I made this difficult decision. The letter of authenticity will be sent with each item and I will retain a copy. The letter will include a description of the blade and name the recipient. No copy of these letters will be sent electronically. We ask all buyers to disallow copies or scannings as we do not want these to ever be faked should they fall into the hands of the unscrupulous. I am personally invested in making sure you are satisfied with this sale. Please contact me with any questions or concerns. All sales are guaranteed. Sincerely, Col G.H. Kitchens The Armorer View all available items for bidding
Blades2008-08-19 16:07:55übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) Writing as Robert Jordan, James Rigney made knowledge his stock in trade. In order to write effectively about men and non-men who fought with swords and lances, he hefted them, he swung them. He studied what life is like for a man who makes his meat and beer with a battle axe. He would hold a spear or sword and contemplate the use of it in combat. Some swords are better in small areas, whereas long swords are better suited for larger space. He'd use them to learn about things like that. Einstein is quoted as saying, “I have no particular talent. I am only passionately curious." RJ, Jim was that, and more. Jim collected all manner of bladed weapons. In Jason’s description of his trip to Charleston for RJ’s funeral, he took some photos of the room outside RJ’s office which the family lovingly calls “The Armoryâ€. Those photos appeared on RJ’s blog, but they only gave you a glimpse of the collection. It is immense. The blades were Jim’s passion, not Harriet’s, so he very generously left them to the three guys close to him: his brother, son and me. The three of us have given many pieces away to others who were also very close to RJ. We invited Brandon Sanderson to wander through and pick something of his liking, something that spoke to him. He sent me the most wonderful thank you note and has placed the sword, a samurai, on the wall above his writing desk. To accompany the sword, Brandon had a plaque engraved with warm words about RJ and looks at it for inspiration as he pens the last of Jim’s epic. Some of Jim’s blades have been placed in the hands of soldiers, airmen and Marines who will find use of them when they are deployed. After selecting items for ourselves and sharing many with others, we still find ourselves with a collection that is, well, unmanageable. Each of us would very much like to hang onto ALL the items, but eventually, in the interest of spatial or marital harmony, most of it would have to go. So, we have decided to do that sooner rather than later. We know that Jim would have wanted some of his fans to have the opportunity to own some of his personal items. The actual mechanics of this will be handled by a close family friend, Greg Kitchens. Greg is a Colonel in the Marine Corps Reserves. He is a military weapons and history expert, though he would humbly deny that fact. Greg spent hours sitting with Jim, discussing the military art, history and the numerous items in both their collections. We are honored that a blade from the collection will be in Greg’s boot when he goes to the Sand Box this December. What he doesn’t know off hand, he diligently researches himself, or finds an expert in that particular field. Greg is performing exacting research on the pieces and will offer to the best of our ability a description of each item. Every piece will also be accompanied by a letter of authenticity stating that it came from the personal collection of Robert Jordan. This letter will be individually signed by Harriet and Greg, our “Armorerâ€. RJ’s blade collection contains swords, knives, hatchets, and spears. Some are antique, some reproductions, and some are modern. There are blades for hunting, fishing, camping, survival, fighting and everything in between. Most are in excellent or new condition. There are a few custom blades and many good blades from reputable manufacturers. Jim appreciated quality and simple, functional practicality yet had an eye for historical significance. His collection reflects those values. There are very few fancy wall-hangers and a plethora of solidly useful weapons, high-quality practice weapons and tools. We will be offering the Robert Jordan collection on eBay beginning over the next couple of weeks. Some of the more valuable antiques and custom knives will undoubtedly appeal to collectors, as well as WOT fans. Wilson Brother/Cousin 4th of 3 [Editor's note: We'll post more details and links to the eBay auctions when they come online.]
Robert Jordan?s Citadel memorial dedication2008-04-23 20:07:27übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) Family, friends and fans of fantasy gathered at The Citadel on Tuesday 8 April 2008 to dedicate a permanent memorial to my brother/cousin, James Oliver Rigney, Jr. This was a celebration of Jim’s life and his work. I would be lying were I to tell you I was looking forward to the event. We had assembled only a few weeks earlier at the Citadel to induct Jim into the South Carolina Author’s Hall of Fame. That evening had propelled me back to the awful moments in September when we lost Jim. Both Harriet and I were in dread of the same happening yet again. It didn’t. Rather the opposite. Harriet had told us all, Onward, still she and I (and I’m sure the rest of the family) were mired in that part of grieving that causes us to hang on, denial. Only a day before, Harriet had rolled up her sleeves and dove headlong into the first chapter of MoL. She, Jim’s loyal staff and Brandon were hard at work on the book. She called me to share that and her excitement was obvious. She sounded like a new woman. Harriet told me that she finally knew that Jim wasn’t coming back. That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t still hurt. The hurt will never totally subside, but now it doesn’t interfere with going "onward". Indeed it helps to maintain purpose and focus. The memorial dedication was begun by a brief introduction of the event from Angie LeClercq, the Director of the Library. The introduction of the panel was made by our own Harriet. Sitting with her were Michael Livingston (Assistant Professor of Medieval Literature at The Citadel), Brandon Sanderson (Elantris, Mistborn) and Dave Drake (Hammer Slammers series, Lord of the Isles series and at least 60 other books). Michael Livingston began by offering what he thought Jim had meant to literature. He compared the body of writers to that of waves on the ocean with peaks and troughs, with the last peak being JRR Tolkein. After him there was a long period in the trough of the wave, then came Jordan. Brandon then waded in with the impact Jordan had upon him as a 15 year old reading fantasy for the first time. He said that his parents were directing him towards Chemistry and Medical School. But Jordan’s fantasy world hooked him so much that he too wanted to write. But every time he’d try something, he’d say to himself, "I can’t. Jordan already did that." (For you writers of the future out there, Brandon wrote 12 books before getting one published. Never quit.) This prompted questions about Jordan’s impact on other writers, "were there people following his style?" I think you all know the answer to that question, there are many. Dave Drake added the observation that there are those who write about something and there are those who write about something that they know because they’ve lived it. He used his own experience from Vietnam to illustrate his point. He said that when you read Jordan you are privy to Jordan’s experiences. The question was asked about who might be the next wave peak. Brandon offered a wonderful bit of insight. It won’t be someone who imitates another’s work. Brandon said that the one(s) who get it right will look not at what Jordan did, but how he did it. If they are successful in applying the method to their own experience, then we may see the next great writer. The photo below shows (from right to left) Harriet, Michael, Brandon and Dave. The glass case directly behind them houses the memorabilia. There you will find copies of all of Jim’s books, a Heron marked blade, his wide-brimmed black hat, his ram’s horn cane, his military decorations as well as his unit insignia from the 68th Attach Helicopter Company, photos of Jim throughout his life and of course, his Citadel ring. Should you find yourself in the Two Rivers, Charleston, do make time to go by the Citadel to see this very moving display. I’ve also included a copy of the dedication program. (click to enlarge) I teased you before with MoL. You all know the timing, and that hasn’t changed. But as I listened in on the exchange between Harriet, Maria (a walking dictionary of the books), Alan and Brandon, I couldn’t help but get even more excited. You all know that Jim told me in great detail, the bones of the book and very vividly described the last scene. Still, listening to the team working collectively on the minute details, hearing the excitement in their voices, feeling the electricity in the room made me want to stay till we were done. I lingered for a moment before leaving watching them sitting around the dining room table where we had shared so many meals, stories and good times. As with most families, our family members have assumed places at the table where we normally sit. I smiled when it struck me that sitting in Jim’s place was the man tapped to finish Jim’s work, Brandon. I’m sure Jim was smiling too. Onward! Wilson Brother/Cousin 4th of 3 [Editor note: We also received some additional words and photos from Alan Romanczuk, one of Jim's assistants. Here's what he writes] Jim's memorial case was put on permanent display in the Citadel library on the 8th of this month. It's a beautiful piece of work, and is probably worth more than some of the houses in the neighborhood. On display are a variety of artifacts representing different periods of Jim's life, and include photographs, articles of clothing and accessories, weapons, everything one would expect to give insight into the personality and experiences of this complex and fascinating individual. Jim's Harriet convened a panel to discuss his life and literary works before an audience that filled one large section of the library. The panel was comprised of [I'm doing this in order of position, from the left, in the photo shown above] David Drake, famous author of fantasy and military science fiction, and friend/admirer of Jim and Harriet's for many years; Brandon Sanderson, talented young fantasy writer who was selected to finish the last volume in the Wheel of Time series; Michael Livingston, Assistant Professor of English at the Citadel, specialist in medieval studies and author in his own right, who is dedicated to ensuring that Robert Jordan's work be recognized by scholars to be among the masterpieces of world mythology; and, standing, Harriet. The discussion lasted about a hour, and included questions and comments from the audience. All in all, it was a stimulating evening, a fitting tribute to Jim, and I think everyone enjoyed themselves. It also gave Brandon the opportunity to say for the first time, "Read and Find Out." David Drake & Maria (from left), Melanie, Ariel, and Wilson
Authors Hall of Fame2008-03-21 17:54:03übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) On 8 March 2008, James Oliver Rigney, Jr. was inducted as the 47th member of the South Carolina Academy of Authors (SCAA) Hall of Fame. The setting was perfect, The Citadel, The Military College of S.C. The man most of you only knew by his nom de plume, Robert Jordan was a graduate of the Citadel and adored his alma mater. Jim would have loved the attention and been embarrassed by it. You see, he wrote not for acclaim. He wrote because that’s what he loved to do. But every one of us likes a pat on the back and a "well done" from time to time. This ceremony was exactly that, a public affirmation of what we fans of Robert Jordan already know. Jim, aka Robert Jordan, has taken the world of fantasy to a level that was only a dream before. The long narrative is possible because of Jim. A writer in his genre was quoted recently for having said that we owe the likes of Harry Potter to Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time. Jim did not live to hear that line, he did however know that the SC Authors had named him to the Hall. He was informed of it at the beginning of September 2007. Jim’s response, "I'll be there", for the ceremony. He lost his fight only two weeks later, but he left knowing that he'd had that pat on the back from his peers. For that, I am eternally grateful. Well done, bubba. The evening was a celebration of Jim the man and RJ the writer. Mike Livingston, a Professor of English at the Citadel was asked to speak about Robert Jordan. He began with the first three lines from Beowulf. He detailed how fantasy has always been an important art, inspiring us all to choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong, to aspire for greatness and not settle for mediocrity. He wove a brilliant tapestry of fantasy through the ages landing upon our own Jim. R.J.'s impact on the genre will be felt for as long as man pens fantasy. Marjory Wentworth, the Poet Laureate of South Carolina, was asked to speak of the man, Jim Rigney. She told of his mentoring of promising students. She recalled how he had seemed even more excited than she when she was named Poet Laureate. She talked at length of his generosity of education and his community. She remembered fondly his story telling, his singing and his most thunderous laughter. Marjory counted herself blessed for having had Jim as a friend. The official words inducting Jim into the Hall were pronounced by D. Oliver Bowman, Chair of the 2008 SCAA Induction Committee. Our Harriet was radiant, a smile ever present. She worked her way through the crowd of over 150 making sure that she spoke with everyone. A special treat for her and all of us gathered were the "1st Graders", a group of 14 ladies with whom Harriet had begun school, that’s right, in the 1st grade. There were 8 of them in attendance. They gather at least monthly to chat over lunch or tea. By way of acknowledging them, Harriet gave a Robert Jordanish, "Hoot Hoot", which brought laughter and an encore call. So, she did it again. Linda Ferguson and Ellen Hyatt, SCAA board members, presented Harriet with a Memorial Gift, a clock. All felt it most appropriate for the Creator of the Wheel of Time. The mood of the evening was light. Still as people talked of my Brother/Cousin, I was transported back to that horrible time in September. Perhaps the wound is like that in Rand’s side, it may never heal. I do hope that it does, for I am sure that Jim would rather I remember the laughter, not the pain. That goes for all of us really. This night in Charleston, the Two Rivers made terra firma, the people gathered under the large oaks of Stedding Citadel, to sing the songs of praise to one of our own, James Oliver Rigney, Jr., who though passed will live in our hearts forever. Wilson
 Brother/Cousin of the warrior god
 4th of 3 Pictures from the Event (click to enlarge) Video from the event
Es scheint wie erst gestern2007-12-10 21:07:45übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) In meinem Büro habe ich Fotos meiner Familie um mich. Sie sind eine sanfte Erinnerung daran, dass wir alle arbeiten um zu Leben, nicht anders herum. Auf einem dieser Fotos sind Jim und ich Schulter an Schulter, unsere Köpfe angelehnt und sich an den Schläfen berührend. Ein persönlicher Moment, eingefangen von meiner Janet. Am Ende eines arbeitsreichen Tages mitte Oktober, lief ich in Richtung Tür, blickte auf das Foto und dachte: \"Ich habe ihn schon seit Tagen nicht angerufen. Ich muss es auf dem Heimweg machen... \" Dann traf es mich. Ich kann ihn nicht anrufen. Er wird sich nicht melden. Die Phasen der Trauerarbeit sind etwas, mit dem ich nur zu gut vertraut bin. Ich wusste was ich zu erwarten hatte: Verlust, Leugnen, Schuld, Ärger und abschließend Akzeptanz. Aber dennoch, ist es ein Weg, den wir jedes mal nehmen müssen, wenn wir einen Verlust erleiden. Und da stand ich nun, das Foto anstarrend, weinend um meinen Verlust und sich für das Vergessen schuldig fühlend, wenn auch nur für einen Moment. Danke für all eure Gebete, eure \"Glückwünsche\" *eigentlich etwas wie: Alles Gute wünschen*, eure Besorgnis für unsere Familie und insbesondere für die Berge von Lob, die ihr auf meinen Bruder/Cousin angehäuft habt. Danke für jede Mitteilung. Ich habe sie alle gelesen, alle. Sie haben mir mehr Trost gespendet als ihr euch je vorstellen könnt. Wir heilen alle. Hier in diesem Forum, möchte ich Jason öffentlich danken. Er war und er bleibt auch ein treuer Fan und Freund. Durch seine Worte und Bilder habt ihr alle die Gelegenheit bekommen, einen Blick in die Welt zu werfen, die meinem Bruder/Cousin gehörte. Jason erzählte euch, er kam mit etwas Angst nach Charleston. Das zeigte sich nicht. Er hat sich mit unserem Familiengefüge verbunden, als ob er schon immer da gewesen wäre. Dennoch war er als euer Vertreter dort. Die Fragen, die er gestellt hat, waren die, die ihr gestellt hättet. Die Dinge, die er sehen wollte, waren die, die ihr hättet sehen wollen. Er berührte, roch und schmeckte das Leben in den Zwei Flüssen. Mit Jasons Worten und Fotos, bete ich, dass ihr in der Lage wart, ein Gefühl für das Ende zu bekommen. Die Pläne ein dauerhaftes Denkmal, dass das Leben und die Leistungen von James Oliver Rigney, Jr., aka Robert Jordan ausführlich beschreibt, sind in vollem Gange. Der Platz konnte nicht perfekter sein, die Bücherei an der Zitadelle in Charleston. In die Ausstellung werden viele Gegenstände aufgenommen, die ihr schnell wieder erkennen werdet: seinen \"ram\'s horn cane\" *Ramm-Horngehstock?*, seinen \"citadel ring\" *Zitadellen-Ring*, und einen seiner schwarzen Hüte mit breiter Krempe, um ein paar zu nennen. Diese Ausstellung wird ihm im Frühling 2008 gewidmet. Inzwischen solltet ihr euch alle über die großen Neuigkeiten bewusst sein, dass Brandon Sanderson eng mit Harriet und Jims Belegschaft zusammen arbeiten wird, um aMoL zu schreiben. Brandon hat sich selbst in diesem Genre bewiesen. Harriet hat ihn für diese Aufgabe handverlesen. Ich hoffe ihr seid zufrieden und genauso aufgeregt wie wir, dass wir diese Herausforderung angenommen haben. Wie ihr in Jasons Interview erfahren werdet, war Brandon schon lange ein RdZ-Fan. Jetzt hat er das Privileg sich den Gauklerumhang anzulegen und uns das Ende der Geschichte zu erzählen. Ich bin sicher, dass er Jim die epische Ehre erweisen wird. Erinnert euch an meinen Bruder/Cousin in der altbekannten Art. Ich vermisse dich Bubba. (Und) Nun, wie Harriet uns gesagt hat, vorwärts. Wilson Bruder/cousin 4. von 3
Mehr Informationen und Bilder von RJ\'s Beerdigung2007-10-04 20:27:51übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) Seit ich den letzten Bericht über Robert Jordans Beerdigung veröffentlichte, bin ich auf ein paar mehr Dinge gestoßen, die ich gerne mit euch teilen würde. (Natürlich mit der Erlaubnis der Familie Jordan) Als erstes waren Tom Doherty und Wilson so freundlich, die Worte, die sie auf RJ\'s Beerdigung sprachen, mit uns zu teilen. Tom ist der Präsident von \"Tor-Books\" (der \"Das Rad der Zeit\" Verleger) und war schon seit 30 Jahren, oder mehr, ein Freund von RJ. Dies ist sein Nachruf: Tom Dohertys Nachruf für James Oliver Rigney, Jr. (Robert Jordan) \"He came like the wind. Like the wind touched everything and like the wind was gone.\"- Er kam wie der Wind. Wie der Wind berührte alles und wie der Wind ging er. Jim Rigney, Robert Jordan, Freund, Macher, Träumer, Erschaffer von Träumen, einer der großen Geschichtenerzähler des 20. Jahrhunderts und ich glaube, die Zeit wird zeigen, auch einer des 21. Jahrhunderts. Sein \"Rad der Zeit\" ist ein Epos von gewaltiger Stärke und Reichweite. Nachdem sie es ausgiebig lobte, sagte die New York Times darüber: “– the evil laced into forces of good, the dangers latent in any promised salvation, the scenes of unavoidable onslaught of unpredictable events – bear the marks of American national experience during the last three decades -”- das Böse eingeflochten *wörtlich: geschnürt* in die Mächte des Guten, die Gefahren, versteckt in jeder versprochenen Erlösung, die Szenen der unvermeidlichen Angriffe, unvorhersehbarer Ereignisse - tragen sie die Zeichen der nationalen amerikanischen Erfahrung der letzten drei Dekaden - Jim schrieb Wahrhaftig für uns alle. Und Harriet, die Liebe seines Lebens, was für ein Team, Harriet ist die beste Redakteurin, mit der ich je gearbeitet habe. Zusammen arbeitend haben sie viele wunderbare Dinge geschaffen. Seine ersten beiden Bücher, \"Fallon Blood\" und \"Fallon Pride\", wurden von ihrer Firma veröffentlicht, Popham Press und Ace als Gemeinschaftsunternehmen wo ich Redakteur war und sie \"Editorial Director\"*Redaktionsleiterin?*. Und dann bei Tor, ein weiterer \"Fallon\", \"Conan\" und \"Das Rad der Zeit\". Das Rad, dass die Leben so vieler Millionen bewegt hat und noch für weitere Generationen viele Millionen Leben mehr bewegen wird. Jim war ein Mann der Tapferkeit, des Herzens und der Visionen. Er war 30 Jahre lang mein Freund. Er ist uns nun vorangegangen. Hinter diesen letzten Horizont, an einen Ort, den wir noch nicht sehen können. Aber ich denke, er kann uns sehen und ist froh darüber, dass wir zusammen sind und ist schon dabei über Geschichten nachzudenken, die er Harriet und dem Rest von uns erzählen wird, wenn wir dort ankommen. Wir vermissen dich Jim. Danke für alles, was du zurückgelassen hast. Vielen Dank Tom, dass du all das mit uns teilst Wilson, RJ\'s \"Cousin/Bruder\" sprach auch auf der Beerdigung. Er las einen Ausschnit aus \"Irish Cream\" Aus \"Irish Cream\" von Vater Andrew Greeley \"Die Frage,\" sagte der kleine Bischof in ihm predigend, \"ist, was steht höher, entweder der Grabstein, oder die Blumen. Vielleicht ist es eigentümlich, dass wir Amerikaner unseren Tag der Toten nur abhalten, wenn das Leben blüht und der Sommer beginnt. Irgendwie haben wir unsere Symbole verworren. Meine Eltern nannten dieses Fest \"Decoration Day\", weil es der Tag ist, an dem wir Blumen um die Gräber legten. Nun tun wir sie überall hin und vielleicht vergessen wir dadurch die Bedeutung des Festes und der Gräber. Wir ehren jene, die in den Kriegen des Landes gestorben sind- Millionen junger Männer, deren Leben abgeschnitten wurden, noch bevor sie eine Chance zum Erblühen hatten. Jeder Krieg ist dumm. Ein paar mögen, indes dumm, auch nötig sein. Das ist nichts, worüber wir heute entscheiden sollten. Wir müssen eigentlich diese langen Reihen weißer Kreuze- und Davidsterne- beachten und darüber nachdenken , wieviel diese jungen Männer wohl zum Leben in unserem Land beigesteuert hätten, wenn sie nur eine Chance bekommen hätten. Wir müssen auch an die Eltern denken, die Frauen, die Liebsten derer, welche in Militäfriedhöfen bestattet wurden und wie sehr ihre Leben durch den frühen Tod verdorben wurde. \"Es mag gesagt werden, dass sie für ihr Land starben. Es ist wohl eher so, dass sie starben, weil sie einberufen wurden und keine Wahl hatten. Sie mögen auch gestorben sein, weil die politischen- oder die militärischen Anführer tragische Fehler machten. Wir dürfen diesen Tag des Todes nicht benutzen um den Krieg zu verherrlichen, sondern vielmehr dazu um die zu betrauern die starben und jene, die sie zurückließen *eigentlich:\", jene die sie verloren haben\"*. \"Wir müssen also Gott, mit allem nötigen Respekt, fragen, warum er der Verkürzung, all jener jungen Leben, mit solch tragischen Ergebnissen, zuließ. Wir dürfen keine Antwort erwarten, aber wir müssen die Frage stellen. Gewiss erwartet er von uns sogar, dass wir diese Frage stellen und die Tragödie nicht aus den Augen verlieren. \" Nichtsdestotrotz legen wir Blumen um die Gräber und wir umgeben unsere Häuser mit Blumen. Daher die Frage: Was steht höher, die Blume oder das Grab? Der Tod, welchen die weißen Kreuze repräsentieren, oder das Leben, welches die Blumen repräsentieren? Machen wir das Grab nur schön, oder fordern wir es heraus? \" Ich schreibe es dir zu, dass wir das Grab herausfordern. Wir geben nicht vor, dass dort keine Tragik in all diesen Todesfällen liegt. Wir wenden uns nicht ab von der Dummheit, der Sinnlosigkeit, der Hässlichkeit des Todes, jedes einzelnen Todes. Aufgrund unseres Glaubens versuchen wir es zu überschreiten. Liebe ist so stark wie der Tod, das Lied der Lieder sagt uns das. Es ist sowas wie ein Gleichstand zwischen zweien. Wenn , wie auch immer, die Liebe nicht vor dem Tod schützen kann, so kann auch der Tod nicht vor der Liebe schützen und folglich gewinnt am Ende immer die Liebe. Betrachtet man den Flieder hier auf dem Rasen: er sollte schon schon lange durch Schnee und Wind vernichtet sein. *es kann hier auch um die fliederfarben auf dem Rasen gehen* Dennoch erscheinen sie jedes Jahr um diese Zeit, um uns zu erinnern, dass es dort Schönheit im Kosmos gibt. Wenn dort Schönheit ist, so ist es Schönheit mit einem großen \"B\"*wg. \"B\"eauty= Schönheit*. Und wenn dort Schönheit ist, ist der Tode noch nicht das Ende. Da ist sogar noch mehr zu sagen. Über das Heute hinaus können und brauchen wir nicht gehen. All die Schönheit dieses wundervollen Tages fordert wieder den Tod heraus und wir schließen uns dieser Herausforderung an. Das Leben ist zu wichtig um jemals etwas anderes, als das Leben zu sein.\" Ergänzend zum obigen Ausschnitt, hat Wilson uns ein paar mehr Fotos von RJ\'s Haus geschickt. (Hier auf den Original Blog gehen, da kann man sich die Fotos ansehen) Und zum Schluss, dieses letzte Foto von RJ, von einem Künstler namens Lese Corrigan. Das sagte Wilson darüber: Dieses Porträt von Jim ist mein persönlicher Favorit. Erst vor kurzem habe ich mich mit dem Künstler, Lese Corrigan, in Verbindung gesetzt, den ich schon seit einiger Zeit durch seine Malerei kenne. Lese war jeden Morgen und jeden Abend in den letzten 6 Monaten im Haus um Harriet durch all das zu helfen. Sie war mit uns dabei, an jedem Samstag Abend als das letzte Buch aus Jims Mund ausbrach. Sie war früher Stenografin und hat die meisten Notizen in dieser Nacht haargenau festgehalten. Vieles, das Jim im letzten Buch wollte, wird nur dort sein, weil sie dazu fähig war es aufzuschreiben, als er es sagte. Wir verdanken ihr viel. Lese Corrigan, Corrigan Gallery, 62 Queen Street, Charleston, SC. http://www.corrigangallery.com [ Full funeral report ] [ Harriet\'s Letters to fans: 1, 2 ] [ View all photos from the funeral ]
From Will2007-09-28 18:26:06übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) The following was written by Will McDougal, who is Harriet's son and Robert Jordan's step-son. He was kind enough to share these experiences with us. ———– Thank you for all your support. James Oliver Rigney was a remarkable man. I am proud to have known him, to have been raised by him and to know him as a father. I wrote the following 2 days after he passed away. It seemed to me that some readers might like to know some of the following. Thanks again for your support. The death of Jim is undeniable. His absence is undeniable. His presence is absent from my life like a mountain might be over time. but with Jim, it was in three hours. I arrived 10am, my cousin Mary somehow pulled strings at airport. She was able to park Jim's car at the curb of the terminal building and then get to the gate to meet me so that we could get to the hospital as quickly as possible. I took turns with others and sat with him on and off for 4 or 5 hours. He was incapable of speech. Somehow he had developed a fever but it was unclear what the reason was. They gave him every test to determine the reason. Tom Jones called. I put him on speakerfone and held the phone to Jim's ear. TJ told him that he loved him and wished he was there. Jim definitely responded as though he recognized Tom's voice. He smiled and closed his eyes, and I think he felt Tom's love. This fever, on top of myriad critical breakdowns, was killing him. Occasionally, he trembled as though extremely alarmed. I think he was having nightmares. I kept wiping his forehead with a damp cool towel. I held his hand. I encouraged him to rest easy. I told him I loved him. In a little while his breathing began to slow. There were many of us there, his family. Only two people were allowed at a time as visitors to see him. Will and my mother were with Jim - I had been asleep in the waiting room. They woke and got me. He had died. His breathing had kept slowing. He had begun to die and he did die very peacefully. His breathing simply stopped. It was obvious when I saw his body. He was gone. This tremendous man had moved on. I knew that this body on the bed had been Jim. I knew that the fire which moved him, which was Jim, was no longer in that body. I knew that the loss of the fire of his life was who I mourned. His presence. His force. What a wild ! and ferocious spirit. What a fire. James Oliver Rigney was a great man of mind and heart. He loved learning and he loved spinning yarns. He was extremely playful and would become a cast of different characters. He occasionally became the character of the drunken Irish butler who was contractually bound to live under the stairs. The one who had to confess he had been watering the whisky, but only moderately, and never on the Sabbath. He had an immaculate Irish accent. His singing voice was beautiful. He loved to sing sea-chantys and anything else. He sang loud and strong and clear. On holidays and dinner parties he would sing for hours. He was a very funny man. And what I think I loved most about his sense of humor was how funny He thought his jokes were. Not that he was a bad joke teller! He could spin some of the most absurd stories, which might begin quite casually and matter-of-factly. Upon delivery of the punch line or if he realized that my adolescent gullability had waned, sometimes his face would turn bright red and he would laugh intensly, and silently, as though the mirth in it, if given voice, would knock out the walls of the house. His belly bouncing. He would tell me the sad stories of the Nauga. I was 11 or 12. He spoke about "the huge numbers of those doomed rodents — all slaughtered to make so many couches and chairs." That was a perrenial favorite of his. Explaining where naugahyde came from. That, and his suggestions that the "barrel-method" was optimal for rearing children. "It's quite simple, you see. You deposit the child in the barrel when he remains, if a boy, until his 35th birthday." She-children, of course, realeased upon their 18th birthday. He used to smoke a custom blend of tobacco in a pipe, one of hundreds of pipes he had collected. He was clear with his strategy for health as a result of smoking. "You see," he began, "I intend to become as though a creosote log, coated in tar and hence impregnable to nature's wear and tear." In short he would finish that of this he "was certain." Under the brim of his dark fedora I could see the light in his eye and it was a playful light. I can see him now. I love you Jim.
My Journey to Robert Jordan?s Funeral2007-09-27 21:50:40übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) The following is an account of my experiences when I traveled to South Carolia for Robert Jordan's funeral. I was privileged to attend his services in Charleston, and to meet his family. My goal in attending the funeral was to represent as many of his fans as possible, and to document everything in order to share it with you. I hope what follows can help give you a sense of what it was like to be there. Even though you couldn’t attend, I promise you, whether you're reading this in the school computer lab, at the office, or in your kitchen, you were in my thoughts and heart, and I did what I could to make sure RJ and his family knew it. It wasn't just me visiting them… it was all of us. — I received a phone call from Wilson on Sunday, September 16th. That's when all of this began. I could tell immediately from his tone that something had happened. "We lost him," Wilson said. "Jim passed away today." To be honest, I don't exactly remember what my first reaction to that gut-wrenching statement was. I remember being worried for Harriet, and I remember being sad for Wilson because I could hear how upset he was on the phone, but in that infinitesimal moment when the words first sink in, I think I felt a wide array of emotions. There was sadness, of course, and shock, because we had just received good news in the previous blog entry, but there was also … what? Disappointment? It would be a lie to say that I wasn't heartsick at the thought that RJ wouldn't be finishing the final volume in The Wheel of Time. Most of you I’m sure, felt it too. Just as he was honest with us until the end, so I will be honest here. I think we're all sad, and at least a tiny bit frustrated, by not having A Memory of Light completed in the way we wanted and hoped for. Before you think poorly of me, hear me out. Obviously, we can't blame RJ for that. To do so is to show a lack of understanding of the way he worked and the way he fought this disease. Amyloidosis is a brutal disease and nobody could fight as hard as Jim Rigney. His blog is a testament to his fight and his dedication. He proved to us, right here, that he was Aiel to the core: "Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder's eye on the Last Day." I don’t think there could be a stronger statement that defined RJ’s fight with the disease. When I say I was frustrated, it lasted only a fraction a second. It is, in part, our ability to overcome our negative emotions that makes us human to begin with. I took that frustration and fed it to the flame, and let the void surround me. There was work to be done, fans to be notified, and questions to be answered. Thus began a three-day adventure that I'll never forget. A quick note: For those of you who may not know, Robert Jordan was a pen name used by James ("Jim") Rigney. Jim is survived by his wife Harriet, his step-son Will, his brother Reynolds, and a full host of cousins, nephews, nieces, second-cousins-twice-removed, and more. A few people have asked me who Wilson is, and what a "Brother/Cousin, 4th of 3″ means. Indeed, it sounds like a bizarre mix of the Borg, southern genealogy, and the even stranger Aiel relationships, but it's actually quite simple. Wilson is Jim's first cousin and they have always been very close, so close in fact that they considered one another brothers. So, that’s where Wilson's use of the term "Brother/Cousin" comes from. The "4th of 3″ refers to the fact that Jim was one of 3 brothers (Ted, the third brother, passed away a few years ago) and Wilson was considered the "4th" brother in that family. Jim lived in Charleston, South Carolina, in a beautiful old home that's been in Harriet's family since the 1930's. One of the kindest gestures I received this week was having Wilson say that I would be welcome there, and at Jim's funeral. On Sunday evening, I posted the news of RJ's passing several hours after it occurred. Wilson sent me the brief write up that you've all read by now. Within minutes, the Dragonmount.com server began to see an unusually large increase in traffic. Within an hour, the site had slowed to a crawl. By the following morning, it was nearly impossible to get to RJ's blog. Initial reports run by the DM admins on the server at the time suggested an increase of traffic of about 250-300 times the normal amount. We estimated that it would take about 120 extra CPU's to fully handle all of the requests coming in at every moment. The DM server is brand-new, still cutting edge, but with the kind of numbers we were seeing, all we could do was try to keep the website stable. The next morning I found myself on a plane flying from California to South Carolina. I grabbed a rental car and set off to drive to Robert Jordan's house. Let me pause here a moment and say that again: I was driving to Robert Jordan's house! If you're as much of a fan-boy as I am (and I know there are A LOT of you who are AT LEAST as big a fan as I am of his books), it would be a wild and crazy thing to think of going to the Creator's house and seeing where the books were written. Less than a week ago, such a thing would have seemed ridiculous to me. South Carolina is so far away. The closest I had ever come to visiting the Deep South before this trip was watching Gone with the Wind, and attending ComicCon in downtown Atlanta a few years ago, a decidedly different experience than visiting Charleston. Jim once told me that he lived in the Two Rivers and suggested I check a map. I never had his mailing address though, and I couldn't exactly Google it, could I? But now, having been there, I can tell you that he wasn't kidding. He lives in the Two Rivers! Charleston proper is situated on a peninsula. The two bodies of water on either side of the peninsula are rivers, the Ashley and the Cooper. Jim and Harriet are very near the tip of the peninsula where these two rivers collide. They're deep in the Two Rivers. You might say they live as deep into their Two Rivers district as Emond's Field is in its own. All of the homes in this area are old historical buildings, usually three, maybe four stories tall, with the well-known pillars and balconies that define the architecture of the southern United States. Jim and Harriet's home was completed in 1795. As I drove up their street, looking for the right house number, I saw a large white gate, and knew that I'd arrived. Carved into the gates are two large, sinuous creatures with five fingers on each claw. The symbol of the Dragon used in the books. I had found it. That Tuesday evening when I arrived was filled with so many amazing memories. I'll never forget it. First, I want you all to know that I found Harriet very quickly (or rather, she found me) and I let her know (on behalf of myself and all of you) that I was sincerely sorry for her loss. Her way of replying was to give me a warm smile, look me in the eyes, and say, "For you as well." Harriet is an amazing woman. You've heard RJ say it over and over again, but this week I saw it for myself. A southern lady to the core, Harriet is the essence of grace, with an easy manner that makes you feel like an old friend the moment you meet her, and an air of poise that belied her grief as she comforted others. Her eyes are warm and gentle, and sparkling with intelligence and wit. Oftentimes, I saw her with tears glistening in those lovely eyes, but she had just as many smiles to give to the rest of us. More, actually. She sang and clapped her heart out. She laughed with, and hugged, and kissed everyone who came to visit. I was welcomed into her home as part of the family this week, and cannot find the words to express how humbled and honored I am to have been included. By welcoming me, she and the rest of Jim's family welcomed us all as a unified collection of fans. Have no doubt that you were all there with us that evening. A bit about RJ's home. God, where to begin? Every wall is covered in artwork, most of it paintings. There are some photographs, but by and large those were only present at desks or set in a frame under a lamp. The parlor has several floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with nothing except all the various editions of The Wheel of Time. It seemed as though every edition for each book was there and all of the translations. I'm six and a half feet tall and I would need a ladder to get to the upper shelves. If you have seen the book Faces of Fantasy, then you've seen the large, antique dragon chair that RJ owned. It's pretty darn scary up close. It sits near the bookcases like a guardian ready to spring at the unwary critic. The effect, however, was a bit ruined by the fluffy pillows and blankets draped across it. :) As wondrous as the house itself is, the most exciting place to visit is, of course, the place where it all happened, the carriage house. This is where RJ wrote all of his books. Inside is a library of over 16,000 books (yes, you read that right) and at least several hundred bladed weapons. Swords, axes, spears, and knives of all shapes and sizes line the walls and shelves of his office. Both the upstairs and downstairs areas are jam-packed with this stuff. It was like walking into a used bookstore that also happened to sell weapons, smoking pipes, and funky hats. I guess RJ liked to wear different hats when he wrote. Not just the ones you saw him wear on tour or in publicity photos, but wacky Viking helmets or jester hats. Who knew? Maybe it helped him get into all the different characters. Maria, one of his assistants, seemed to think he did it just to keep them all laughing, or guessing about his sanity. One other thing about the carriage house is that it was filled with gifts sent to him by fans. There were sketches, paintings, sculptures, plaques, and other memorabilia that he had received over the years from people who loved his work. It was pretty clear that he treasured those things. So, if you were ever a fan who sent in letters or gifts, be assured that he received them. I also received confirmation that he read every single letter written to him over the years. Clearly, he did not always have time to reply to them all, but he read every one and it meant a lot to him. Okay, one last carriage house story, then I'll move on. While I was there, the temptation to sit down at his desk, in his chair, at his computer, became overwhelming. I noted at the time how strange it was to be feeling as though this act were sacrilegious. Of course, I meant no disrespect. I just wanted to sit at the place where these books had been written. As I eased myself into the chair, I was overcome by a profound sense of excitement and sadness. I could feel his presence and his eyes on me in this place where he poured out so much of himself through his writing. The screen was dark as my fingers hovered over the keyboard, aching to touch the letters. I typed the word "RAND", just a silly attempt to mimic the strokes that keyboard had seen countless times before. The computer screen, which a moment before had been a dark sentinel guarding its Master’s desk, suddenly sprang to life from sleep mode and beeped loudly at me. I damn near jumped out of my skin! I vaulted from that chair as if the Dark One himself were in pursuit and fled with the distinct realization that there were a lot of sharp swords and scary masks watching my hasty retreat! That same Tuesday night while we were outside, Wilson pointed out to me that even though we were in the downtown area of a major city, if you closed your eyes and listened, all you could hear were crickets. Our beloved RJ lived in a slice of heaven, my friends. You probably have heard him speak of how much he loved that city, and I can now see why. Look at these photos and the lush jungle of greenery that surrounded him. I have little doubt that the trees and landscape of his home helped him to imagine the Green Man and the Nym, the Ogier Groves, and the eternal forests in dreams where wolves hunt and dreamwalkers dwell. It was here in his Stedding, beneath the trees and a canopy of stars that I stayed late into the night, sharing stories with Jim's friends and family and letting the peace of the warm southern evening pass through me. The following morning I arrived back at the house early. Even after the warm welcome the night before, I was amazed to find myself seated at the breakfast table with the members of his immediate family. (Somebody invited me to sit in Jim's chair, but I hastily declined because of my last adventure with one of his chairs. The walls of the dining room were covered in paintings of Jim and I felt them "giving me the eye.") The newspaper reports were rolling in and we all read them. One of them… the London Times, perhaps?… even used the term "Randland". Ha ha ha! I got a great chuckle from seeing that term used in a major newspaper. Shortly after breakfast, I found myself helping out by doing dishes. Washing dishes is a soothing task for me, so I find that I do it quite often. (My wife thinks I'm crazy, but she never complains.) Also, I figured that, had any of you been there, you probably would have done the same thing. Jim has given so much to us that doing a simple chore like washing plates on the day of his funeral was an easy task to do. It also helped pass a little time before going to the church. The funeral took place at St. Stephen's in Charleston. It's a small church with a simple and glorious beauty. Jim's ashes were on a pedestal in front of the altar. In addition to family and friends, I saw some fans who had come to pay their respects. Among them was Melissa Craib, the founder of TarValon.net. I was glad for her presence as she was someone I knew well, but more than that, I was glad she was there because she was another fan. Jim would have wanted her there. Melissa has already written up a report on the funeral. You can read it here. Tom Doherty, the founder and president of Tor Books, gave the eulogy. He said Jim was one of the greatest storytellers of the 20th century, and that he believed time would show the same was true for the 21st century. I couldn't agree more. Whether or not you like the books, regardless if you're frustrated by their size or pace, I think we could all agree that the sheer majesty and scope of the Wheel of Time series is unparalleled. Simply put, it’s the longest, and perhaps the most accessible, epic fantasy saga today. By the way, I had the amazing fortune to be able to talk at length with Tom D. over the course of my visit. Tom is a man whose experience and insight into publishing is eclipsed only by his warmth and kindness, and his love for Jim and Harriet. If that sounds overly sugary, I assure you it isn’t. I would be hard pressed to meet another man as kind and attentive as Tom. Harriet's son, Will, Jim's brother, Reynolds, and Wilson all spoke at the funeral. Wilson read a truly moving essay that touched me deeply. I'll post a copy of it soon. In the end, the most amazing part of the funeral was the singing. Now, I won’t claim that we had the most talented vocalists in attendance, but what the congregation might have lacked in talent, it more than made up for in spirit. And that is what we sang, spirituals. Songs with roots that run deeply through the southern experience and blossom at need to replenish the hearts of the grieving and remind them of the hope that lays in faith. At one point, the church was bursting with song. I remember looking up as we raised our voices to heaven, and I thought of all of you fans who were not present. I thought of how, with the people above in upper balconies and the white walls, this must be a little what it’s like to be in the White Tower for assemblies. The songs rose into the air, and together we sang Jim's spirit into heaven, and into one another, and around the world. I should mention that Harriet wore one of Jim's hats to church. You know those wide-brimmed hats he wore on tour? (Not at all dissimilar to a hat worn by a certain ta'veren gambler.) Well, Harriet was sporting one of those very stylishly and it choked me up to see her wearing it. Following the funeral was a reception where everyone could mingle and chat. I had met many of the people there the night before, but this became an opportunity to meet even more folks, and go deeper into conversation with those I had already spoken with. Many fond memories of Jim were shared. Aside from being a famous author, the fact that so many people would attend his funeral and have nothing but good things to say about him speaks volumes about the kind of man he was. I had come to Charleston for Robert Jordan's funeral, seeking a chance to say good-bye to a well-beloved author. What I actually found after three days with his family and friends was so much more than I could ever have imagined. I was gifted with the opportunity to learn about Jim Rigney, the man, a far more fascinating person than Robert Jordan could ever be. I spent the few hours between the funeral and the burial touring downtown Charleston and mingling at the reception. Harriet's cousin, Harriet (yes, another Harriet), and her husband George were gracious and gave me a tour of downtown Charleston. I was able to learn a bit about the city and places Jim used to frequent. Most notably, I saw the Yacht Club where he was a member. One thing that strikes me about a place like Charleston is how much HISTORY there is everywhere you go, and how people here know their ancestry back multiple generations. Harriet and George told me that they were instructed when they were young to "know the maiden name of all four of your great-grandmothers." I was only able to come up with one of them. I promised George that I'd research the other three and get back to him! Many of you are wiser than I am and already know this lesson, but for those who don't know it yet, I humbly offer it here. Take the time to learn about your roots! Know who your family was and how you ultimately came to be. Most of our personal histories are still passed through oral tradition. So, take the time at some point in your life to know those who came before you and pass the information on to those who follow. This is clearly a lesson Jim learned early in his life, or maybe had bred into him from the start. These histories will help complete you and may even spark creativity or insight that you didn't know was there before. The final stage of Jim's funeral was his burial. Once again I was humbled by the family’s invitation to attend this very private affair. We buried him out in the country, and I say "we" now because it was made clear to me numerous times by different people that I was an honorary member of the family, a distinction that I kindly extended to all of you in spirit. Harriet dropped rose petals into the grave with her son Will by her side. At one point, she was presented with a folded United States flag as is traditional at the burial of a U.S. veteran. The men in Jim’s family; Reynolds, Will, Tom Jones, and Wilson, all placed the dirt on top of him; an eternal blanket to keep him for the Ages. The church where he was buried was completed in 1785 and has had continuous services since then. Jim and Harriet were married there. His grave is next to that of several family members who preceded him and Harriet told me that one day she would rest next to him at the same site. Prayers were read, songs were sung, and tears were shed. This was, by far, the hardest moment for me personally. Despite the sadness of those present, you could see the deep bonds of family coming together to support each other. The Rigneys, like your family, like mine… are just that: a group of people who have discovered that together they are greater than the sum of their individual members. I saw Jim's family brought together by his life. Like any other family, I’m sure they have problems and disagreements, but the strength in their love for one another is evident when they gather together. These were the people who loved him, and I'm proud to have stood with them as your representative. While the tears flowed, and the bagpiper from the Citadel played his mournful tune, I saw something radiant which made me smile. A little baby, only a few months old with beautiful eyes, was looking directly at me. I snapped a photo of her because here was a sign of new life and promise among the cold stones and the earth. Here was someone that Jim probably cherished in his last months and would have wanted the world for. The Wheel of Time turns… Towards the end, when most of the family was finished with their farewells, I took a moment to sit before Jim's grave. I tried to recall that first excitement I had when I read The Eye of the World thirteen years ago. I offered a bit of that feeling to him, so that the joy of having read his books might stay with him for a while as he rests. Once again I thought of all of you and told him how much we all loved him. I thanked him for the gift of his books, and I bade him farewell. I remembered the previous times I met Jim (when he was on book tour). I would always see him and think "Wow! That man right there is Perrin and Mat and Elayne and Loial, and Asmodean and Elaida and everyone else all made flesh." I would imagine that by shaking his hand I would be shaking all of their hands. As the burial approached, I had expected to feel a similar thing when he was buried. I expected to feel as though we were laying all of those characters into the ground, but that never happened. I realized that these characters and events are very much alive and present. Go into any bookstore and Mat is as alive and witty as ever. Rand will always be his charming and…uh…moody… self. The Forsaken will always be a threat. Jim gave these characters life, but we sustain them, and that is what I truly believe applies to the living as well. We live life in order to interact and be with others. By sharing a bit of yourself with another person you connect with them on a deeper level. There is energy within and between us all. Life, God, or the True Source, whatever you want to call it, is what I think we're here for, or so I felt at that particular moment at the foot of Robert Jordan's grave. Jim had wanted a certain song to be played at his funeral, Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. For some reason it wasn't possible to do it, so after most people had left the burial ground, Mary, Harriet’s cousin whom Jim had treated and loved like a daughter, loaded the CD up in Jim's Porsche and cranked it up. The music evoked a sense of sadness laced with hope and the promise of salvation. Oh, and, by the way, I got to ride in that Porsche on the way home. Jim bought it for himself when he became the New York Times #1 best-seller for the first time. (Book 8, I think). He told me a couple of years back via e-mail that "it handles like it’s on rails." Indeed, it did. The rest of Wednesday was spent back at the house. Once again, I walked through the carriage house, this time taking photos. (The swords and hats no longer seemed angry with me for sitting in his chair.) Wilson took me upstairs in the main house where I saw the original painting of the cover from The Dragon Reborn. This is the one for which Harriet asked the painter to remove Ishamael's face. I also was able to see Jim's numerous war medals, and those of his father. The evening went on, and night fell. My flight for home left the next morning at 6 AM (yuck). Making my farewells was hard, as I had genuinely come to enjoy everyone's company so much. I felt like I was leaving the Winespring Inn in the Two Rivers. Several of the ladies wanted to make sure I had had enough to eat, and a few of the gentlemen wanted to be certain I had all my travel arrangements in place. On both of my back-to-back nights leaving Jim's house, I walked away with a plate full of food. I now know what the term "southern hospitality" means. I could not possibly write about all of the conversations I had during my time in Charleston. There were so many of them, and much of what was said was somewhat private in nature. Mostly, conversations were about everyday things, but the WoT geek in me was curious, and so I poked around. I can tell you this much: nothing about the plot of the final novel was revealed to me. I'm no closer to the identity of Asmodean's killer than you are. (Although, come on people, it's been 15 years. You should know by now. Go read the WoT FAQ. When I suggested to Maria who I thought it was she gave me a "Don't-even-go-there" look.) What I do know about A Memory of Light is that we need to give everyone time to figure out what's going to happen with it next. Wilson has already revealed previously on RJ's blog that Jim left some pretty detailed notes on what would happen. He, Harriet, and presumably Maria and the other assistants, all know the endings and secrets. There are both written notes and audio recordings of Jim saying what happened. (Wouldn’t it be cool to have that audio published with the final novel someday? Tor, are you listening?) How or when we'll see A Memory of Light in published form needs to be worked out. Jim's death is too recent and the wounds it left too raw to his family to say when the last volume will be completed. Time will provide us with the book we want, and the conclusion the series deserves. We just have to be patient. Speaking of conclusions, so ends my adventure. Although, as Jim has told us eleven times before, there are no beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel. I hope this gave you even a little taste of what it was like. I'll never forget those days at Jim and Harriet’s house. I am saddened by our loss, and at the same time, overjoyed by the opportunity I was given. I wish each of you could have seen the bookshelves, felt the grip of the swords, and heard the crickets. And the music. Wow… the music especially will stay with me forever. The Tinkers and Ogier need look no further for their songs than the ones we sang to Jim Rigney when we gave him to the earth. I'll end with this beautiful quote that was printed on the back of Jim's prayer card at the funeral. I have a bunch of them and I'll figure out a way to give them away to some of you. The other fans at the funeral may have already posted them. The quote reads as follows. I have it burned into my memory. "He came like the wind, like the wind touched everything, and like the wind was gone." Thank you Jim, for touching my life, and the lives of all those reading this and beyond. We will miss you so. In loving memory, and on behalf of all those reading this, I remain, Your Friend, Jason Jason@dragonmount.com View all photos from Robert Jordan's funeral… (More to come possibly)
Hi Leute2007-04-26 17:41:16übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) Wilson hat euch soweit auf dem Laufenden gehalten was meine Werte angeht - die scih immer noch gut machen - also werde ich mich darum heute nicht kümmern. Im Großen und Ganzen geht es mir gut. Es gibt immer wieder Fallen und Stolpersteine, aber ich arbeite mich an ihnen vorbei. Ich habe schließlich einige Verprechen zu halten, oder? Ich denke ich muss einige Dinge über diese Sache mit der Rakete klar stellen. Es fällt auf jeden Fall in die Kategorie \\\\\\\"nicht zu Hause nach machen\\\\\\\" auch WENN du ein Experte bist. Ein Experte ist in diesem Falle jemand, der es schon ausprobiert hat und noch atmet. Ihr seht also, dass es nicht viele Gründe gibt, warum man das ausprobieren sollte. Aber wenn du nach rechts siehst kommt der Tod auf die zugerast und links ist ein Riss in der Wand durch den du dich nicht mal in zehn Millionen Jahre quetschen könntest, aber du versuchst es trotzdem. Ich hatte wirklich sehr, sehr, SEHR viel Glück. Ich schoss Sperrfeuer in der Nähe von Mr. NVA [Nord Vietnamesische Armee, Anm. des. Übersetzers] als er schoss. Ich musste also nur einen kleinen Winkel abdecken. Nur eine kleine Drehung des Handgelenks. Trotzdem war eine ordentliche Portion Glück dabei. Als der Pilot mich fragte, was passiert sei, sagte ich die Rakete wäre zu früh explodiert. Ich dachte er würde nicht glauben was wirklich passiert war. Selbst einige der Jungs in den anderen Hubschraubern, die es gesehen hatten, konnten es nicht glauben. Ich hörte jede Menge \\\\\\\"Man, das sah aus als hättest du das Ding abgeschossen\\\\\\\" und \\\\\\\"Du hattest echt Glück, dass das Teil zu früh explodiert ist. Habe so was noch nie gehört. Es gibt da das Problem die Rakete wirklich zu sehen. Ich war in der Zone. Diese Dinger sind einfach nur schnell, schnell, schnell. Ich habe Sportler und Sportreporter darüber reden hören wie es ist \\\\\\\"in der Zone zu sein\\\\\\\", aber ich glaube sie haben einfach über ein weltklasse Spiel gesprochen. Aber sie waren es nicht, den in der Zone macht man keine Fehler. KEINE. Ich habe es beim Baseball, Basketball und Football erlebt. Du kannst nicht immer hinkommen, sicherlich nicht aus freiem Willen, aber wenn du es schaffst ... . Folgendes passiert, während du dich ganz normal bewegst, werden alle anderen Personen und Dinge langsamer - zeitlupenhaft. Pässe schweben wie durch Honig. Du hast alle Zeit die Richtige Position einzunehmen. Deine Sicht verbessert sich, wird schärfer. Der Quarteback hat eine perfekt Täuschung hingelegt und jeder glaubt, der Fullback in der Mitte hat den Ball. Aber selbst wenn du die Bewegung , mit der der QB den Ball hinter sein Bein gezogen hat, nicht gesehen hast, erwischt du doch einen Blick auf ein kleines Stück des Balls, dass kaum zu sehen ist und du bist da um ihn zu treffen wenn er die Linie erreicht. Vielleicht kannst du ihn erwischen bevor er seinen Pass spielt. In der Zone. Der Einzige Grund warum ich diesen Spielzug hinbekommen habe. Ein weiterer Einwurf, ich schoss mit einer gelagerten M-60 und keiner Kaliber .50. Wir hatten nur eine begrenzte Anzahl Ma-deuces an wir mussten sie vor den IG Inspektoren verstecken, denn wir sollten eigenlich gar keine habe. Ich weiß nicht ob ich es mit einer .50 geschafft hätte. Mehr Gewicht zu bewegen, ein höheres Moment zu überwinden. Es war verdammt knapp mit der M-60. Für Dr. J.W. Stubbe, ich befinde mich in einer Pulstherapie mit Dexamethazone, die Exposition wird verringert und die Ärzte hier behalten alles im Auge. Ich habe Pregnazone-Haut entwickelt, sie wird dünn und rissig, leicht zu verletzen. Aber ich schätze es kann nicht immer gutes Bier und Chilli sein Für Paracelsus, ich hatte zwei Spitzname in \\\\\\\'Nam. Der erste war Ganeshe, nach dem Hindu Gott der \\\\\\\"Beseitger von Hindernissen\\\\\\\". Es ist der Mit dem Elefantenkopf. Den habe ich behalten, aber ich habe einen Zweiten bekommen, den ich weniger mochte. Der Iceman. An einem Tag landeten wir, was die Aussies einen brass-up [Glückstreffer, Anm. des Überetzers] Nur unser Schiff, aber wir erwischten ein NVA Battalion, dass die Fluss überquerte und Wunder über Wunder, bekamen wir die Erlaubnis zu feuern, bevor sie alle drüber waren. Dem Schützen explodierte eine Kugel in der Kammer und blockierte sein M-60. Der Idiot hatte seine Lauftasche vergesen. Während er also unter meinem Sitz in meiner Tasche nach einem neuen Lauf kramte war es an mir - jung und verrückt - etwas von den Stones singend stand ich an der Rehling, das Mikro so angebracht, dass die Jungs reinhören konnten und guter Gott, ich habe diese M-60 geritten. 3000 Schuss, und ein rauchendes Rohr, dass ich ausgeglüht hatte weil ich nicht wechseln wollte. Wir wurde zurückgerufen, direkt nachdem ich keine Munition mehr hatte und die Artillerie konnte loslegen. Sie steckten Lob für jeden Toten ein, aber wir konnten die Toten im Fluss nicht zählen, bevor wir uns zurückzogen. Am nächsten Tag kam ich in den Besprechungsraum und wurde von einem Offizier mit den Worten \\\\\\\"Sehet, der Iceman kommt\\\\\\\" angekündigt. Für alle, die Eugene O\\\\\\\'Neil nicht kennen, der Iceman war Tod. Ich hasste diesen Namen, konnte ihn aber nicht wieder loswerden. Um die Wahrheit zu sagen, zu dieser Zeit passte er. Ich habe, oder hatte, ein Foto eines jungen Mannes der auf einem Baumstumps sitzt und eine Ration mit Stäbchen isst. Drei NVA Leichen liegen neben ihm. Er hat sie nicht getötet. Er hat sich nicht wegen der Leichen dorthin gesetzt. Es war einfach der bequemste Platz. Die Leichen stören ihn nicht. Sie sind nur Teil der Landschaft. Der junge Mann sieht in die Kamera und du weißt, dass du ihn niemals deinen Eltern vorstellen würdest. In der richtigen Welt willst du ihn nicht in deiner Nachbarschaft weil er kalt ist, soo kalt. Ich habe ihn erdrosselt, ihm einen Pfahl durch\\\\\\\'s Herz getrieben und ihn mit dem Gesicht nach unten an einer Kreuzung in Saigon begraben, bevor ich nach Hause kam. Ich wusste, dass dieser Kerl nicht gemacht war, um in einer zivilisierten Umgebung zu überleben. Ich denke er ist fort. Alles von ihm. Ich hoffe es. Ich ziehe es vor, wenn man sich an mich als Ganesha erinnert, den \\\\\\\"Beseitiger von Hindernissen\\\\\\\". Für Carol S, niemand hat gesagt, dass sich die Krankheit stabilisiert. Es ist zu früh. Es reicht mir im Moment, dass meine Werte gut bleiben. Für Cody Griffin, danke für deinen Dienst und Gratulation zur Beförderung. Ich werde die Ma-deuce auf deinem APC [Panzerfahrzeug, Anm. des Übersetzers] jederzeit schießen. Wer hat je gesagt, ich sei klar im Kopf? Für Me, laß deinen Vater wissen, dass ich ihn in meine Gebete einschließe. Für Ransomedge, auch du bist in meinen Gebeten. Kämpfe weiter, du kannst es schlagen. Für Doug Hall, danke für deinen Dienst Für Cindy Oberschlake, ich kenne die Gegend in der dein Vater getötet wurde, habe ihn aber nie getroffen. Ich fürchte er ist gestorben bevor ich in \\\\\\\'Nam ankam. Für Kathy, Ich fürchte ich kannte deinen Vater nicht. Für Lelon White, ich bin beeindruckt, dass du immer noch an mich denkst, wenn man sich deine Probleme ansieht. Du kannst für dich selber sorgen. Für David, bleib dran. Du kannst es besiegen und du wirst es besiegen. Der erste Schritt ist, nicht aufzugeben. Das ist der Schlüssel. Genug für heute. Ich habe Hochs und Tiefs und der heutige Tag hat sich noch nicht für eine Seite entscheiden können. Ich denke ich werde ein wenig entspannen, bis ich das rausgefunden haben. Passt auf euch auf RJ
Weihnachten (von Harriet)2006-12-23 16:56:31übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) Ein Gedicht von Harriet zu Weihnachten und um Jim\\\'s gute Nachrichten zu feiern. A Genuine Wham-O Lists for cards, lists for cookies, lists for books and scarves and games and candles. Maybe a bell would fit in there. Maybe I\\\'ll give it up and be a witch. My ersatz Frisbees cards and scarves are packed with love, but never seem to hit the mark, the tender lips, the gleaming fangs of those I throw them to. I\\\'ll borrow a young terrier bitch and lob a real one for her. Frisbees of love? We live in one: the Milky Way. Or are you going to fob me off with dusty physics, lumps of coal and willow switches? Please! The world sends me huge bright disks of love and light. Although it\\\'s hard to see them, hidden as they are in books and scarves and games and candles. And a bell. Harriet Popham Rigney
Ein kleiner Nachtrag2006-11-15 18:21:06übersetzt von Looge Originaltext (englisch) Dieses Mal melde ich mich etwas früher als gewöhnlich zurück, da ich bemerkt habe, daß ich etwas sehr Wichtiges vergessen hatte, als ich einigen Typen angewiesen hatte, wie man mit der Krankheit umzugehen habe. Kann sein, daß es sogar die wichtigste Sache überhaupt dabei ist. Lachen. Bring sie zum lachen. Bring ihn zum lachen. Bring dich selbst zum Lachen. Glaubt mir, guter Stimmung zu bleiben hat eine unglaubliche Wirkung. Es gibt eine menge Situationen, in denen es schwerfällt, etwas zu finden, über daß man lachen kann, doch in den meisten Situationen, in denen du grummeln könntest, kannst du ebenso auch ein Lachen finden, wenn du sie nocheinmal etwas schief anschaust. Und wißt ihr was? Sie zum Lachen zu bringen ist nahezu genauso gut, wie selbst zu lachen. Tatsächlich ist es so, daß du sehr bald merkst, wenn du sie zum lachen bringst, in ihr Lachen einstimmst. Es gibt eine Menge, was man durch Lachen überwinden kann, wenn sich durchwühlen einfach nicht funktioniert. Es verlangt ja niemand, daß ihr über alles lacht. Niemand wünscht, daß ihr vollkommen mit der Grummelei aufhört. Doch je mehr du lachst, desto weniger mußt du murren, und desto besser fühlst du dich. Desto besser LEBST du. Und ich meine die Form von besser, die dein Arzt bemerken wird. Es klappt. Ich weiß es. Es klappt. Hi Emma. Ich dachte, ich erinner dich einfach daran, daß ich noch weiß, daß es dich gibt. Ich hab mich heut morgen eingeloggt, um nachzuprüfen, was ich in diesen Post noch einfügen muß, und sah dabei den „WerdeGesundRobertJordanSeite“Link. Danke, Leute, millionenfach Danke. An Steve und Vickey, ihr seid beide in meinen Gebeten. An Phil M, George Chuvalo ist zweifellos eine Eingebung aus der Vergangenheit. Ich bezweifel, daß ich in den letzten 20 Jahren überhaupt an ihn gedacht hätte. Wahrscheinlich sogar eher 30 Jahre. Er war ein wirklicher Ironman im Ring. An Patrick Crunkleton, Harriet und ich wünschen beide, nach Rom zurückzukehren. Wir haben Italien sehr genossen, obwohl für gewöhnlich sehr “belebte Diskussionen” über die Vorzüge von Rom gegenüber Florence oder die Reise in die Toscana und die Hügellandschaft Umbriens wobei wir selbstverständlich die Touristenzentren vermieden hatten, entsteht. Wir stolperten dort zufällig in einige Festlichkeiten, die wir überhaupt nicht erwartet hatten, und sie machten eine Menge Spaß, trotz der (anderen) Touristen. Und einige der besten Mahlzeiten meines Lebens hat ich in kleinen italienischen Dörfern, in denen kein Wort Englisch auf der Speisekarte stand (was überall ein gute Zeichen darstellt), und das ganze Restaurantpersonal zusammengenommen vielleicht 6 Worte Englisch verstand. An Bruagh, danke für deinen Hinweis, daß ich einen \\\\\\\"Grave\\\\\\\"-Akzent benutzen muss. Ich hab ihn dankend angenommen. Abgesehen von deiner Verbindung zu der eher zweifelhaft vertrauenswürdigen Institution, (Wofford). An Magus von Norwegen, auch du kannst gewinnen, und ob du das tust, hängt nich von mir ab. Du selbst kannst es schaffen. Für Jonas, vor einigen Jahren habe ich das Gleitschirmfliegen ausprobiert, und es hat eine Menge Spaß gebracht, doch es erschien mir irgendwie langweiliger, als das Fallschirmspringen. Ich brauche wohl irgendwie den Rausch. Oh, um für einen Moment etwas abzuschweifen, „Laßt die Kampfhunde los“ ist kein Roman, obwohl Shakespeare es am Anfang in den Mund von Antony in Julius Caesar legte. Verbreitet Chaos, und laß die Kampfhunde los. Der erste Teil, verbreitet Chaos, war ein anerkannter üblicher Befehl für englische mittelalterliche Soldaten. Genau so, wie es „Achtung!” oder “Kehrt um!” heutzutage wären. Es bedeutete, die Soldaten ausschwärmen, plündern und Chaos sähen zu lassen. Kampfhunde mußte Shakespears Publikum natürlich als Bezeichnung für die Soldaten auffassen. Entschuldigung dafür, doch ich dachte nicht, daß mich das in Schwierigkeiten bringen könnte. Für Lelon White, es scheint sich als genauso gut erwiesen zu haben, daß du nicht alles vollkommen umgekrempelt hast. Mich freut es, daß es dir gut geht. Gott sei dank! Du bist in meinen Gebeten. Für Kris Lorenzini, ich werde diesen Spruch im Gedächtnis halten. Im Maul des Wolfes. Ich mag ihn. Vielleicht wirst du ihn irgendwann in einem Buch wiederfinden. Für Richard Maxton, ich bin früh, daß ich dir helfen konnte, wenn auch nur im kleinen Rahmen. Du hast einen schweren Beruf. Wir kannten mal jemanden – inzwischen ist er in eine andere Stadt gezogen, der ein pädiatischer Oncologe (Anm: Kinderarzt für Krebserkrankungen) war. Ich dachte schon immer, etwas härteres könne man nicht machen. Meine Gebete sind mit dir. Und noch eine Abschweifung. Einige von euch schrieben, daß sie es nicht erwarten, daß ich euren Post lessen würde. Ich tue es. Ich lese jeden einzelnen von den Einträgen, die ihr Leute macht. Ich antworte nicht auf jeden, da dafür einfach nicht genügend Zeit bleibt, aber ich lese sie alle. Für Child of Lir, ja, Venedig ist ein erschreckender Ort. Obwohl ich sagen muß, in einem der Restaurant am Platz vor der St. Marks Kathedrale zu essen und ein Auge auf den Wasserpegel des Platzes zu halten kann schon etwas nervenaufreibend sein. Man weiß genau, daß die Bedienungen dich schon rausschaffen werden, bevor du gefangen wirst, doch was ist, wenn sie in der Zwischenzeit einen etwas zu schweren Wein serviert haben? Soupe au pistou ist eine einfache Gemüsesuppe mit Parmesan und Pesto. Ich glaube, sie stammt aus Südfrankreich. Auf jeden Fall zu empfehlen. Für Nicholas Papas, vielen Dank für dein Angebot. Ich werde darauf zurückkommen, wenn ich tatsächlich meine Harley bekomme, und dann sehen, ob du dann immer noch der gleichen Meinung bist. In dem Fall werde ich dich dann beim Wort nehmen. Für WD, ich könnte mir wohl das so gennannte „Große Spiel“ anschauen, doch ich bezweifel, daß ich bis nach der Halbzeit dabeibleibe, ganz gleich, wer gewinnt. Was mich angeht, das Highlight der Saison war der Absturz von VMI. (Keydets bounce). Wußtest du das? Laß sie von genügender Höhe fallen, und du bekommst definitive einen Aufprall. Vielleicht bekommen wir bald für ein Profispiel Nachwuchs aus dem Hinterland. Dieses Jahr war es Pittsburgh und GTexas A&M. Das Problem dabei ist natürlich, sobald wir die Kinken aus Kevin Higgins weitem Angriff bekommen, daß niemand mehr gegen uns spielen will ( Die letzten 3 Jahre auf Lehigh hatte er ein 453 Verhältnis, bevor er ins Profilager wechselte). Das passierte uns das letzte Mal, als unserer Angriff noch rund lief, obwohl es damals die Dreifachaufstellung war. Trotzdem zählte USC zu unseren Opfern, genauso wie Arkansas und andere. Bis sie anfingen, nein danke zu sagen. Das einzige, was wir (dann) zustandebrachten, war eine 107 Niederlage gegen die Tiger, wenn ich mich recht erinnere, doch vielleicht wird diese Saison alles besser. Für Coral, ich bedauere deinen Verlust. Doch glaube ich daran, dein Bruder wird es wissen, daß du seine Bücher für ihn vollendest. Und ich verspreche, ich werde sie für dich vollenden, und für jeden anderen sonst da draußen. Nun, das reicht wohl für einen kleinen Nachtrag. Es ist gerade Mittagszeit, und ich denke, ich bekomme ein Schüssel von der übriggebliebenen „soupe au pistou“. Suppen, und Eintöpfe, sind immer fantastisch, wenn sie einige Tage ziehen konnen, daß sich die Aromen mischen konnten. Ich weiß, einige werden mir da von Herzem widersprechen, doch ich beharre auf meinem Standpunkt. Paßt auf euch auf, Leute. Bis dann, RJ |
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