…there was a man named Robert Anson Heinlein. Much of  today’s world is built on the scaffolding he discovered/provided in the short stories and novels he wrote. He understood the human nature and had the clear sight. Heinlein championed courage, beauty, kindness, love and honour. He had that rare vision that allows one to see the evil and not be blinded by hate, and see the good and not be blinded by love. His greatest fault perhaps was being to optimistic in his opinion of mankind. It is rare to find a person meeting the standards portrayed by a Heinlein protagonist. This is what, in my opinion, has attracted the ire of a certain ‘class’ of people.

I found Heinlein some 30 odd years ago, and not a year has gone by since then without my rereading the Heinlein oeuvre.

Heinlein’s short stories can be viewed as an ersatz ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’, without losing the joy reading a well crafted tale can provide. His novels still provoke surprising new insights with every rereading, while at the same time creating a sense of wonder when I realize that the common place mention of say, cell phones occurred in a story published in 1948 or mentioning the Internet in a story published in 1982.

We lost the Grandmaster in 1988 and every so often I am reminded, again, that we lost him to soon. What would he have noticed in 1992, or 2003, or 2012, that the rest of us missed. The reminder this time was http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/10/help-from-heinlein.html

This joins the mountain of evidence indicating the sniping and slander of Heinlein I occasionally run across on the internet, exist only in the minds of the small souled people who drool their sad little attacks into the World Wide Web.

These lines are from the beginning of Heinlein’s short story titled Requiem.

On a high hill in Samoa there is a grave. Inscribed on the marker are these words:

“Under the wide and starry sky
Dig my grave and let me lie
Glad did I live and gladly die
And I lay me down with a will!

“This be the verse which you grave for me:
‘Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.'”

These lines appear another place — scrawled on a shipping tag torn from a compressed-air container, and pinned to the ground with a knife.

When the Grandmaster died, he was, according to his instructions, cremated and his ashes scattered at sea from a U.S. Navy warship. Some of his fans feel it would be appropriate to honor him by placing a pint of seawater and a suitably inscribed shipping tag on Mare Imbrium. The poem to be inscribed is R. L. Stevenson’s “Requiem.”

Read the story to find out why

 

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