I'd see him in the hall at work getting coffee, and say hello. "Hey, how's things? How's the commute?" He was polite, and friendly. He seemed like a guy I'd like to know, but never would because he had his family, and I have mine. He had his responsibilities, and I have mine. He's dead now, and not among us. He seemed like a good man, and I wish his family peace, regardless if he was really a good man, whatever that means, because I didn't really know him. Who do I know? His life passed on without most knowing it existed.
I'd see his face on TV, and hear his name everywhere in 2001. Quis odio maxime! He was loathed by me and most Americans, and loved by many anti-Americans. He plotted mass murder, and successfully carried it out through surrogates. He was a man who raged against the machine, but also the flowers. He was a man who perceived injustice, and took action! Although, his foible was to take action against the innocent; violating the right to life, liberty and security of person. For this, his crusade was a failure and he was an epic failure. He was one of the most famous men on the planet, and he will go down in the annals of history.
I learned of his journey from my aunt, and may have met him at a family gathering years ago when I was much younger. He was attempting a well known trek from Georgia to Maine that is completed by only 1 in 10. He wanted to achieve something great and memorable, and maybe hike away from old demons. His body didn't hold up, and he probably died the day he called to get picked up. Anyone who'd begin such an adventure would not stay dead long, though. That is life!
Success in life can be measured in mighty things dared for mighty causes with good aims. It doesn't matter if everyone knows you and you're dead. It matters if anyone loves you and you live.
