I was sitting on a bench overlooking the beach at Ward's Island this weekend, when I suddenly thought of Jack Layton. And how I used to see him all the time cycling around the island on a bicycle made for two. Back in the giddy days when an orange wave had made many of its supporters, including me, believing that the NDP was only an election away from forming a government. But as we all know, that never happened.
It's hard to believe that it's now been four years since Jack Layton died, and the hopes of so many turned to sadness. And yesterday evening, when I returned from the island to the ferry dock named after him, I paused for a moment before this statue in my neighbourhood.
I didn't stay long because I pass the statue almost every day. Anything I had to say I said long ago. Like thank you, or how cruel life can be. But I did stay long enough to think that wherever that happy warrior's spirit roams, it must be singing. Because the orange wave he created in Quebec, is now becoming an orange tsunami.
At the end of a long day, it's always a welcome sight. The little terminal to the Toronto Islands, and in the summer my escape hatch out of the city. But its new name makes it look even better. Because Jack Layton loved the islands as much as I do. I'd see him there all the time riding a bicycle with Olivia Chow. And of course because like so many others, I loved Jack. So today on the second anniversary of his death, I thought this was really neat.
Well this is as close as I got to the site of the NDP Leadership Convention. I briefly thought of crashing the party, but I was afraid I might bump into Ed Broadbent. Call him an old asshole.
Former party leader Ed Broadbent, who has endorsed Brian Topp, said on CBC's Power & Politics with Evan Solomon that he thought Mulcair "bombed."
And be unceremoniously ejected from the building, for causing a ruckus at an NDP event. Which is about as low as you can go eh? Sort of like farting in a church.
But unfortunately it was too late, because by the time Uncle Ed was finished blowing his fog horn, or acting like old man Potter in It's a Wonderful Life...
I've been a union supporter since I was seventeen, when I got a summer job at a mine in Northern Ontario.
Where it was explained to me by some of the toughest but nicest guys I've ever known, that if we didn't have unions we'd all be slaves. And I learned the true meaning of solidarity.
Later on I also learned that unions have been largely responsible for just about every progressive thing that ever happened in this country. And that's why the Cons and their Big Business masters hate them so much.
Because they want to turn back the clock, screw the poor, and condemn young Canadians to a life of servitude.
So when I heard that this year's Toronto Labour Day parade was dedicated to Jack Layton.
I decided to make this little video...
Special thanks to my friend Calum, who took over the shooting when I was suddenly called into work.
Where I made more money than usual, because I belong to a union eh? So they can't treat me like a slave.
It's too bad Jack couldn't be there in person, but his spirit definitely was.
I must admit that I have never paid much attention to anything Angelo Persichilli has ever said or written. I thought The Great Angelo was just another Liberal who sounded like a Con. And they're a dime a dozen.
But now he's wearing Dimitri's hat, I think this is outrageous.
“Many are tired of the annoying lament from a province that keeps yelling at those who pay part of its bills and are concerned by the over-representation of francophones in our bureaucracy, our Parliament and our institutions,” Mr. Persichilli wrote about 18 months ago.
And this is PATHETIC.
“I will do whatever is in my capacity first to serve the government and eventually to serve the Canadian people – and I have the utmost respect for people living in Quebec, no doubt about it.”
Because how can you slag a people and then claim to respect them? And how can you put the interests of the Cons before the interests of Canadians and their country?
But then The Great Angelo is just a bit player in a bigger drama. For years I have warned that Stephen Harper's ultimate objective is to drive Quebec out of Canada. Because he knows that if the country's most left-leaning province leaves, the Cons will rule FOREVER.
And now you see the shape of things to come. The NDP are separatist traitors. Quebec is The Enemy. The mob in English Canada will cheer, and some Liberals will join them, because they think that's the way to win seats in Quebec. The idiots.
And nobody will care about how Quebecers will feel, being treated as outsiders or pariahs in the country they helped found. And we will all end up living in a country choking in its own bile, stinking of bigotry, and ripping itself apart.
Great eh?
Which is when I think of Jack Layton. And how the last thing he did may turn out to be his greatest gift to our country.
Reaching out and embracing the people of that province...
And inviting them to rejoin the great Canadian family after more than twenty years of alienation and bitterness.
And I remember how warmly they embraced him back, and how sorry they were when he died...
And then I think how his tragic death could affect the future of our big beautiful country, and I wonder what will happen to it, now that Jack isn't there to bridge the Great Divide. Or the Two Solitudes.
You know... the other night the CN Tower was glowing orange to honour Jack. A fierce electrical storm was raging all around it. And I was looking out of the window with the Québécois Canadian I love. He was staring at the glowing tower and the lightning with eyes wide open in wonderment. And saying WOW. In French. Because he always sees the good in everything.
But not me. I can see the hate that will eventually consume this country. So although the tribute to Jack moved me beyond belief. The lightning scared me.
Oh sure. The Great Angelo is just a bit player, but you can see the shape of things to come.
I see that support for the NDP is surging and that Jack is getting the credit.
Harris-Decima chairman Allan Gregg said the NDP gain is most likely attributable to “the Jack effect.”
“The national outpouring of emotion we witnessed over Jack Layton’s untimely death appears to have translated directly into increased support for the party he leaves behind,” Gregg said.
But you know what's also awesome eh? A lot of Canadians, of all political persuasions, deserve some credit too. Because beyond partisan politics, his death seems to have brought out the best in us, by appealing to our better angels, and reminding us who we really are.
Take Rob Ford for example. Normally, as you know, the Fordzilla can be counted on to take crassness to new heights, or record lows. But since Jack's death he has stunned me by actually showing some class. He has been praising Layton as the man who taught him "everything" about City Hall.
Mayor Rob Ford’s office has asked city to look at the possibility of naming Toronto’s Peace Garden in honour of Layton as a permanent memorial to the federal NDP leader, Toronto MP and former city councillor.
Started in the 1980s, the Peace Garden is currently under construction as part of the Nathan Phillips Square renovation. The square was repeatedly filled with chalk tributes to Layton last week.
Now it's entirely possible that His Lordship looked out of his office window shortly after Jack's death, and saw a young woman writing the first message on a wall.
I wanted to take ... I don't know, something. Flowers didn't seem right. So I bought a couple of boxes of chalk.
When I was done I left the chalk on the ground by the ramp, and ... things got sort of splendidly out-of-hand.
And the next time he looked out of his window he saw this...
And it scared the shit out of him.
But maybe, just maybe, for as short as this sweet moment might last, like so many others, he realized that after all is said and done, he too is a Canadian. And it could only happen here.
There is no politician like Jack Layton in Australia, the U.S. or Europe. Sure, those places have left-leaning parties with great leaders. But no one I know can speak to the people of the things that matter the way Jack could. And so those who knew something of Canadian politics looked to Jack for inspiration.
Yeah. Say it again: It could only happen in Canada eh?
Oh boy. You know I'm pretty hard on my country. As I am on myself. I want both of us to be the BEST we can.
But occasionally I'm reminded that for all our wrong turns, and our terrible mistakes, we still have so much going for us, we ARE different. And we are still capable of GREAT things.
So instead of running down to the beach after reading that poll, wearing my victory tuque, the one with the bells on it, and firing off bottle rockets, until Sébastien restrained me. Or the grumpy old man at the end of the street threatened to call the police.
I'm sitting here peacefully, and thinking...
My beautiful Canada, how lucky I am to live here.
Thank you Jack for reminding us who we really are...
Well I see that although we only just said goodbye to Jack Layton, our classy media is already beating their tin drum over who will replace him.
And so are quite a few Liberal bloggers. Which seems rather crass, considering the timing, and considering their own problems.
You know...I love my Liberal friends. Although I don't have as many of them as I once did, because most of them joined the NDP in the last three days. I know that all of my friends share my vision of a better Canada, whether they wear red or orange.
But like our tired media so many Liberals are obsessed with the grubby mechanics of power. Who gets to be da boss, who gets to ride in a limo, who gets to stick their snouts in the trough.
While the Jack Nation is building a powerful new movement...
A movement that will unite the left, and drive the filthy Cons from power, by appealing to idealism of the young and the noblest instincts of all Canadians, who are sick to death of old and tired politics.
The nostalgic dinosaurs of the Big Small Red Machine may not understand that yet, but you can be sure the Cons do and they are AFRAID. Quaking in their boots. Or going up and down like yoyo's.
It will probably be a while before a Canadian prime minister again offers a state funeral to someone on the left.
With the Conservatives’ new hammerlock on power — accomplished with a mere 40 per cent of the national vote — here at least was one joyous moment in which we could watch the country’s most powerful orator confront a prime minister who had no choice but to stand every time the rest of the room rose in rapturous pleasure at Lewis’s inspiring call for a more equal and generous Canada.
There will come a time when I write about the NDP leadership race. But right now all I can think about is the wonderful news that they're going to scatter some of Jack Layton's ashes on my beloved Toronto Islands.
Jack's ashes will also be scattered on the Toronto Islands, where Layton married his wife MP Olivia Chow in 1988.
A memorial tree will also be planted at the site on the islands.
Because that little community loves the NDP more than any other ...
(Click pic to enlarge)
And I absolutely love the idea of planting a little tree to remember him.
Like this one near the ferry dock...
So on an icy cold day I can wrap it in a blanket, or hurry over with a watering can on a hot one. Or ring my bicycle bell as I ride by it, like we did at Jack's funeral.
And of course guard it with my life eh?
Oh little tree of hope. May you grow like our beautiful movement.
I have to admit I'm having a hard time recovering from the overwhelming events of the last week. In all my life I've never seen anything like it.
Who knew the death of a politician could both sadden me, and inspire me to try to be a better person?
Who knew I would see so many Canadians of all ages, backgrounds, and political persuations join together to mourn the death, and celebrate the life, of Jack Layton?
Who knew I could love my people so much?
Golly. If the old beaver wasn't soaking up some rays down by the dock and giving me the evil eye...
I'd hardly believe I was still in Canada eh?
But then beyond our differences, or Jack's political opinions, or his call for hope and optimism, he also sent out a very human message that we can all understand.
Sort of like the message that Mr Raccoon is sending out these days, in this park near my house....
By enjoying a leisurely mid afternoon lunch, as well as a sneaky midnight meal at the all-you-can-eat dumpster.
You know...winter is coming. Summer never lasts long enough, just like life. So live it to the fullest. And seize the moment because you might never get another chance.
So while Jack's political message galvanized me and my friends, this message also affected me deeply.
And the reason is that about eight or nine times a year I have to go to a hospital, to have blood removed from me to control my hemochromatosis.
And this takes place in a large room which is also the Cancer Ward...
So as my blood drains out of me, and I feel faint, I get to stare at the beeping chemotherapy pumps. And at the old and young faces of those fighting for their lives.
Their courage inspires me beyond belief, just like Jack's did. Thanks to them nobody will ever have to tell me to seize the moment. And for that I am so grateful.
Oh well. Enough of death and back to life. And in that regard I have to admit that right now I am extremely pissed off at my best friend Angus a.k.a Farm Boy, for failing to seize the moment to make us both FAMOUS.
You see after the fabulous Indian film festival in Toronto this summer, I told him that we should make a Two Hosers Do Bollywood video. Because we both love the music and the dancing.
But he procrastinated, no doubt moping about his boy friend.... and his tractor. Not necessarily in that order.
So what happens? Two hosers in Vancouver have beaten us to the punch, posted the video to YouTube, and got almost a MILLION views !!!!!
Oh well. Maybe it wasn't a such a good idea. It looks harder than I thought. Who knew you had to stand on your head eh?
But you know what I mean. Like summer, life is always too short. Seize the moment.
I almost missed Jack's funeral. But luckily I didn't because it was a true gathering of the clan... or the Jack Nation.
And though it was of course a sad occasion because he was taken too young. It was also a chance to celebrate his life. And we sure did.
I wish I could say more, but I'm too tired. And besides somebody told me the other day that I write too much.
So here's a little video I made to give you an idea of what it was like to be there...
When it was over I was lifted by all that love, but I also felt sad and empty because now I know he's really gone. And beyond everything else it's such a horrible tragedy. Why Jack? Why now? How could this happen when we needed hope so badly?
To hear so many Canadians speak so open-heartedly of love, to see young and old take chalk in hand to write without embarrassment of hope, or hang banners from overpasses to express their grief and loss. It's astonishing.
Inevitably, we fastened on those last memorable lines about hope, optimism and love. But the letter was, at its heart, a manifesto for social democracy.
Just like I'll never forget what his son said about how the best dreams are those that are bigger than your life.
And Stephen Page's magnificent Hallelujah.
Hallelujah for Jack Layton. For bringing hope to Canada like rain to a desert.
Will this recovered hope shrivel away in the light of day? Maybe.
But tonight the CN Tower is glowing orange. Everything seems possible.
Remember how in my last post I said people should ignore how Lezra Levant, in an interview with Michael Coren, mocked the way Canadians were reacting to Jack Layton's death?
Well I changed my mind...
Because after screening the interview in question I now feel it may very well be...in fact almost certainly is...
And the most RIDICULOUS. So EVERYBODY should watch it eh?
Because if Sun TV News had any credibility left, which I doubt, it's all gone now.
You know... somebody should tell Lezra that the makeup person didn't work for six long hours to make him less ugly, only to have him put on a wig. Hint. Hint.
But they never tell those bitter nerds the ghastly truth, because they're afraid to hurt their feelings. Or cause them to spit when they talk...even more than they already do. So they never learn. And without that crucial feedback they are LOST.
Oh well. At least there's a bright spot eh?
Since Lezra is now doing the show in drag, in an obvious attempt to improve his dismal ratings.
At least now we can call him DIVINE...
Although, sadly, unlike the real Divine, there is nothing beautiful about Lezra.
You know I wouldn't be surprised if he dresses up as Ann Coulter next. And challenges the head of the CBC to eat a heaping portion of scrambled eggs off his ample behind.
While Michael Coren plays his limey organ grinder, and Christie Blatchford plays his monkey.
I wasn't able to pay my last respects to Jack Layton today. When I went on my lunch break the line was just too long.
But I did spend some time with the Jack Nation at City Hall, and once again it was an awesome sight.
If only he could have seen it. Watching the memorial to Jack Layton unfold at City Hall on Friday, it was hard not to think, “God, he would have loved this.”
Not just because hundreds upon hundreds of people came to praise him, but because they came pledging to carry on his crusade of caring and hope.
Outside in the square, what can only be described as a happening was under way. Scores of people milled around, reading the messages scrawled in coloured chalk on the paving stones, writing messages themselves, taking pictures of the impromptu shrine piled with flowers. The city has never seen anything quite like it.
Because if Marcus Gee was moved, you can imagine how I felt eh?
I understand that some right-wingers, like the pathetic nerd Ezra Levant, have been acting like pigs. Again.
But who really cares? They are what they are, they don't understand what's happening, and they are AFRAID.
While our people are gathering strength from tragedy, preparing to answer his call to change the world. And they should be the ones we are writing about.
I have written quite a bit about what has been happening since Jack died. About how he gave us hope and a mighty new weapon.
And no doubt I will write more about what I think it all means in the next few days.
But I leave you with a little video I put together with some pictures I took today, and some video Seb shot for me on his lunch break.
It's a little rough, because it was noisy in the square, but I think it says all I want to say tonight...
I found the sight of Jack Layton leaving the House of Commons for the last time incredibly moving.
The cannons blasting, the people clapping, the bells playing "Imagine."
And when the funeral cortege crossed the bridge into Quebec, so Jack could say a last goodbye to Quebecers, I had to turn my head away so my co-workers wouldn't think I cry easily.
And that it could change Canadian politics in ways most people cannot IMAGINE.
Because these words have fallen like rain on a desert.
My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.
And I agree with Stephen Lewis, who will deliver Jack's eulogy.
"That's what's so fascinating about the phenomenon of Jack Layton. Everybody feels that he's a friend — and a friend that they would willingly follow," Lewis observed. "Beyond the sadness and pain of his death — and it is an incomparable loss — there will lie a legacy which continues. I really feel that."
I know it's fashionable in Canada to sneer at emotion. And to regard people like me, as hopelessly idealistic or naive.
But I don't care eh? Because I was born into a bigoted world, so I never had a choice but to struggle for a better one, or a Promised Land.
And although I might not cry easily, I am proud to wear my heart on my sleeve. I feel sorry for those who can't. For why should they fear death when they are dead already?
And long before I even heard of Jack Layton, I had another hero.
And these mighty words, the night before he was murdered, compelled me to fight the bigots and the bullies...
Did you see that tiny rainbow? That's what hope means to me. My Promised Land is a kinder, gentler, fairer world.
I want to get there so much. Just like Jack did, but couldn't. So we will get there for him.
Yup. Some people and some words CAN move mountains.
The Jack Nation is born. And even in the darkness of Harperland.
Oh.My.Doggy. I was hoping not to have to write anything about the way Christie Blatchford crapped on Jack Layton's memory, the day after he died.
Because as he so sadly showed, life is too short to worry about nasty things like that, when we've got a world to change. But since so much has been written about BlotchBelch Blatch.
And the harpie wingnut Barbara Kay is trying to outdo her by squeezing out this turd.
I thought I'd just ask the question: Why is everyone so surprised ? When Krusty has been in the Hall of Shame for YEARS.
Unfortunately, I must have used a too-loud voice, because I disturbed the dog, who reproached me with a sharp look and a disdainful pffftt or two from his rear quarters.
(13 May 2009)
How on earth did it come to this, that despair so perfumes the air? (14 February 2008)
Golly. I don't know. But how on earth could anyone write this?
Moi, je refuse: I shall cough into my cupped hands until I lose the slight dexterity that requires and then I shall hack unashamedly into the public air. By that time, I expect, I will be well into the public farting years anyway, so I figure I might as well cough too.
As I approach those years, I still have no idea why it is that as one gets older, one grows more flatulent, but I do recognize it as a curious truth...
Although I guess it does help explain why our boys in uniform don't love her quite as much as she loves them...
And why a soldier friend of mine once told me that given a choice between battling the Taliban, or riding in an APC with Blatchford, after she hadn't shaved for three days, he'd rather take his chances with the hairier ones.
Or why another friend once told me that he thinks her purple Afghan tales are better than gay porn. Because when she starts drooling about all those hunky guys, with their rippling muscles, their tattoos, and the sweat running down their brows navels, his member can't help springing to attention. ATTEN- SHUN !!!!
Even as his mind wanders.
Take that Molière...or Don Cherry.
And besides it's not like she hasn't been punished before eh? Like when the tiny terror bit Richard Colvin in the ballsknee ankle. And even Paul Wells thought she was naughty.
In 20 years in journalism I have never seen anything resembling the systematic and sustained repudiation to which Christie Blatchford, the Globe and Mail‘s marquee columnist, is being subjected by her own newspaper. There is room in any good paper for disagreements among colleagues, and frankly there should, for a long time now, have been room for more of that at the Globe. But this goes further. This is breathtakingly methodical. And I believe it was needed.
But while any other self respecting Canadian journalist would have fled to a foreign country after that whupping, and assumed a new identity.
She didn't...
She just wrapped herself in bitterness, and crapped on Jack Layton.
Because he was right about Afghanistan, she was ridiculous.
And there's only one Krusty !!!!
But wait. What's this? Oh nooooooooooooooo !!!! Now even the Post is punishing her, by making her write about FIRE ALARMS !!!
Fire alarms? The great Christie Blatchford? Golly. Could this really be The End?
You know I had a horrible nightmare the day after I saw her squatting over Jack's memory. I dreamed it was ten years from now, and she was squatting over a rickety table in a dingy Legion Hall. Sucking up quarters and bottle tops like a hoover...or a CF-18.
And then some old geezer in a wheelchair bumped into the table. It collapsed. She flew around the room, like a balloon with a hole in it. And I woke up SCREAMING.
Just like she's probably going to scream when she see this.
On my way home this evening, I stopped by City Hall to check out this improvised and rapidly growing memorial to Jack Layton.
Where people were dropping by to write chalk messages to the lost leader.
On the ground...
Or on a large wall...
And then when I got home, I read a story by Barbara Yaffe, who like most of the media loons in the Ottawa pond, was echoing the plaintive call of the Con media: Jack is gone, so the NDP is doomed.
Canada is not a socialist-minded country. Of 10 provinces, only Manitoba and Nova Scotia have New Democrat premiers. Canadians never have installed an NDP government federally. In Quebec, the NDP's recent success federally flowed from a political vacuum left by a sudden collapse in the Bloc Quebecois' following.
With Layton's passing Monday, his party now faces the prospect of losing much of the support it had from voters who were attracted by Layton himself.
And it made me wonder if any of those predictable loons knows what they're talking about. Because like most of those wretched scribblers, Yaffe can't seem to see the forest for the trees. Or in this case the writing on the wall.
These troubled economic times couldn't be BETTER for a social-democratic party. And the NDP may have lost a great leader, but Layton has bequeathed them and other progressive Canadians, something even more powerful: a real dyed in the wool Canadian myth.
Do you know how much a myth is worth in a country starved of them? Jack's tragic death, the person he was, and the message he left behind, have given progressives a secular saint for a better world, that we can hold up like a candle, or wield like a weapon.
One that will shelter the new NDP MPs as they wander through the Valley of Con Death, help excuse any rookie mistakes they might make, neutralize the "separatist" slander that will be excreted in their direction.
And most importantly, mobilize young Canadians to their side, by giving them somebody to believe in. At last.
Because there they were on their knees today...
One after the other.
Writing love messages to Jack...
For he did so believeth in THEM.
Now they believeth in HIM...
And when you ask them to win one for Jack they will. And so will a lot of other Canadians.
You know the Cons know the power of a myth, and they are afraid.
The setup is tempting: Ailing leader, cane in hand, bravely hobbles through an election campaign with a wince and smile, leading his troops to shocking, unprecedented triumph — only to die prematurely and gracefully like a monarch butterfly.
That’s the martyr part. NDP strategists, no idealistic fools, know martyrdom is gold at the ballot box.
And so they should be.
Glory Hallelujah !!! I want to be an altar boy in the Church of Jack Layton !!!!
Where goodness RULES.
Stephen Harper and his Cons are the Satanic Hordes.
He was the greatest leader I have ever known. His words will inspire us forever, and lead us to victory one day. And of course now he's a legend.
But one of the things I liked most about Jack Layton was that he was a REAL human being. Not a phony like so many other politicians.
And he could be so funny...
Can you imagine Stephen Harper being able to make fun of himself?
I can't.
Can you imagine Stephen Harper in a Gay Pride Parade?
No.
But there was Jack on a brutally hot day, weak from his battle against cancer, cheering his team on...
That song may seem sad now. But really it isn't, because his memory will survive, it will empower us, and lead us to the promised land. Or a land without Harper.
And I'll always remember Jack disappearing down the road with his horn and his rainbow umbrella. As the gay people cheered their friend.
Yup. He was one of a kind.
I've never been so eager to fight the Cons as I am now. Thanks Jack.
I was walking my dog just before dawn this morning. There was a chill in the air I hadn't felt for months. But in the distance the sun was rising orange. So I should have known that Jack had died.
And when I found out I was so sad, not just for my MP Olivia, his family, his friends, and his party. But also for the Canada I love.
Because I admired Jack for many reasons. For standing up for the rights of women, gays and lesbians, seniors, and the poor people of this country.
I admired him for fighting so long for the human rights of homeless people.
Because believe me, like so many other humble citizens of this country, they too are mourning him today...
I admired Jack for the way he defended our precious medicare system from those who would destroy it.
I loved him for his down to earth humanity.
And for being a true friend of gay people...
But most of all I admired and loved him for the way he reached out to the French-speaking people of Quebec, and convinced them to give Canada another chance.
Because keeping our country together means everything to me.
I was watching the coverage on Radio Canada this afternoon, and reading their website, and it was deeply moving to see the tributes flowing in like a veritable torrent of grief.
Tributes like this one:
A great one, a sincere man, honest, positive, that's why we loved him. Thank you Jack.
Or this one:
Even if I'm only ten years old I think he was the best politician forever.
Because even a kid knew a good man when he saw one.
I was amazed how many of them compared him to Rene Levesque for his honesty and his humanity. Or all those who called on him, the Anglo federalist, to look after them from above.
My guess is that Quebecers just got themselves a new political saint, and that they will not easily forget him.
Just like I will never forget Jack's last message to Canadians.
His message of hope for cancer patients. His love for his country. His faith in the youth of Canada:
There are great challenges before you, from the overwhelming nature of climate change to the unfairness of an economy that excludes so many from our collective wealth, and the changes necessary to build a more inclusive and generous Canada. I believe in you. Your energy, your vision, your passion for justice are exactly what this country needs today. You need to be at the heart of our economy, our political life, and our plans for the present and the future.
And his last words:
My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.
Rest in peace my happy, brave warrior. For we will NEVER forget you.
