Stumbling Toward the Light

Three weeks ago, one of science fiction and fantasy fandom's hardest-working, kindest, funniest and most precious people, Peggy Rae Sapienza, entered the Inova Heart & Vascular Institute in Falls Church, VA for surgery and treatment. Yesterday, she died there at the age of 70.

She was one of the first friends I made in northeastern US fandom, way back in the late 1980s when I left my home state of Louisiana for good. I was one of many she cajoled into doing stuff for whatever club, convention or other fanac with which she was involved (usually artwork, in my case) and, as one of her many mourners notes today, it was simply impossible to say no to her.

Best-selling sfnal author John Scalzi has a far more eloquent tribute to her than I could ever muster, posted at his blog here. (UPDATE, 3/25: The web-based version of Mike Glyer's long-running fanzine File 770 has an even better one here.) The last I saw of them was at Loncon 3 (last year's Worldcon) in London, England, UK last August, and neither of them looked any the worse for wear (though John was riding a scooter to get up and down that gawdawful long hall, and I for one did not blame him in the slightest).

My deepest and most heartfelt sympathies to her husband John, her children and all the rest of her family, her friends uncountable, her fellow SMOFs and all the fans she served so tirelessly as a mentor. Wherever your questing soul may be, Peggy Rae, I hope you know that you are loved and missed more than you can possibly imagine.

As the poets have mournfully sung,
Death takes the innocent young,
The rolling in money,
The screamingly funny
And those who are very well hung.
—W. H. Auden

One of the finest examples of Auden's third category ever to come out of that superstar-comedian factory known as Chicago's Second City troupe is lost to us now. Actor-director-writer Harold Ramis, perhaps best known for his portrayal of bespectacled, deadpan occult scientist Dr. Egon Spengler in the two Ghostbusters films and his masterwork Groundhog Day, has died at 69 after a long struggle with autoimmune inflammatory vasculitis that for a while had cost him his ability to walk. His hometown paper has an obit for him here. He passed away a week ago, on Feb. 24, and I only just learned of it yesterday through reading a remembrance of him in the latest issue of Time magazine, written by his friend and sometime director Ivan Reitman.

At last night's 86th annual Academy Awards ceremony in Hollywood, CA, Ramis' longtime friend and frequent comedic partner-in-crime Bill Murray, appearing as the cinematography award presenter, managed to sneak in a tribute to his old pal, with whom he'd ironically been on the outs for the past decade. (Reports indicate, however, that they did patch things up prior to Ramis' death, and that Murray even visited him at his home in his final days.) I am now informed that the producers of the Oscarcast did in fact include a formal tribute to him in their memorial segment—which relieves me greatly; not having done so would have been a scandal to the jaybirds, as Ramis made possible some of the industry's biggest paydays over his long career. (You can read about Murray's effort to honor his friend here.)

He was also responsible for some of the finest, funniest, most entertaining hours Your Humble (and millions of others) ever spent sitting in front of screens both large and small. Deepest sympathies to his two wives and three children, the rest of his relations, Mr. Murray and his other collaborators and friends, and his many fans. I hope and pray to whatever God or gods there be that he knew before he left us how much he was loved and appreciated, and what a mark he made on our culture. As Murray put it in a formal statement, Harold Ramis "earned his keep on this planet"...in spades.