My last exchange with Robin Young

I knew him as a writer only. He passed this last week.


A man with his own style. A character in some ways . His excellence at wordplay and pinpoint, acerbic wit endeared him to me, and others. I also enjoyed his critiques of my writing. As a struggling writer, which is what I am, his crisp, on point, reviews of my stories changed my prose.

He was in for his second battle with cancer. When I visited him, he still had good color, a clear mind and was writing.  His passing was sudden and surprising.  I have no details at this time. Perhaps one of his creations came to life and took him to a better place.

As promised in the title, my last exchange with Robin:

doug [2:04 PM]
Where do they have you now?

robin [5:07 PM]
Robin spat the stinging dryness of the high desert sand out of his mouth and realized his was no a good place to beta-test the latest DragonDictate.

doug [5:07 PM]

You would have to retrain the entire profile for speech recognition

robin [5:13 PM]
“They spirited me out of that nasty Bucharest ‘mental hospital’, stuffed me in the back of a rattling aluminum box with a couple of Mousafah’s bully boys and tossed me out on the street in front of a down on its heels named “Cross Cancer

doug [5:13 PM]
You so need to write this

So you are at the U of A?

robin [5:14 PM]
Two wordsCross Cancer

doug [5:14 PM]

robin [5:14 PM]
Room 3142

doug [5:14 PM]
Roger Roger

robin [5:15 PM]
That was fun – thanks!

I leave you and myself with the words The Great Poet:

Be cheerful, sir:
Our revels now are ended 
These our actors,
As I foretold you were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind:
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
~ William Shakespeare

A Good Man, I will miss him.
Be Well




My dad is third from the left. He fought for Canada in Korea. He is one reason why I take time to remember that those that have fallen in battle. Those that fought hoping and praying that their war would be the last war. He rarely spoke of his involvement in death and destruction and suffering that is war. War for him was not to be glamorized.

It is doubtful that we will ever experience what his generation did. While he did not fight in World War II he live through it. Imagine a war so fierce and resource demanding that the government requires you to turn in your cell phones to be used as metal for the war effort. Your WiFI must be turned off permanently or the enemy will use it for targeting and failure to do so labels you an enemy of the state. There are no fast food places. They have all been turned into factories to make supplies for the war effort. Texting doesn’t work because the towers and bandwidth are all used by the military. You can’t afford gas. Meat is a luxury item you get once a week. Sounds like a dystopian world that we don’t understand – like a story from a book. A fairy tale. A fairy tale where your friends and family die. Certainly not a glamorous life.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. George Santayana

I must remember. I hope that you do to.
Be Well – dcd