From: markm@ogicse.cse.ogi.edu (Mark Morrissey)
Newsgroups: soc.motss
Subject: Rob Bernardo
Keywords: I miss you Rob, rest in peace
Date: 16 Aug 92 04:31:31 GMT
Article-I.D.: ogicse.41492
Distribution: world
Organization: Oregon Graduate Institute (formerly OGC), Beaverton, OR


I had been reading soc.motss about three years before I made my first
post.  In that time I saw a good number of posts from people who I
came to know as "regulars".  One of those persons was Rob Bernardo.
While I didn't always agree with Rob's perspective, I did usually read
his posts and try to understand his point of view.  Of the people in this
space who I credit with helping me to understand who I am, Rob is right
near the top.  His words caused my closet to shrink until I could no
longer fit into it -- or perhaps he helped me to grow until no closet
could contain me.

I never met Rob and never exchanged email with him.  However, when I read
Jess Anderson's post, it was a full half hour before I even understood
where I was at and a while longer before my tear stained eyes could focus
on that posting.  I considered Rob a friend not met.  He is not the first
of my friends to leave this world in this way, but he is the first since
I escaped my closet.  Reading Jess' post finally allowed me to cry for all
the friends I could never cry for before.  This is a gift from Rob which
I can never repay, except by remembering his influence on my life.  

Thank you Rob Bernardo for being there when I needed you, though you did
not know.  A gift twice blessed.

Since I read of Rob's death, two poems have haunted me.  They are about a
time long ago, a time of battle.  A time not unlike today.  I think I
need to share these two poems in order to excise the ghost upon my soul.
To me Rob was a beacon, holding aloft a flame which helped to show me the
way - a way - which became important in my life.

I hope you understand.

I miss you Rob and I cannot stop the tears.


	  In Flanders Fields

    In Flanders fields the poppies blow
    Between the crosses, row on row,
      That mark our place; and in the sky
      The larks, still bravely singing, fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead, Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
      Loved and were loved, and now we lie
      In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe;
    To you from failing hands we throw
      The torch; be yours and hold it high.
      If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
      In Flanders fields.

			  John McCrae


To which my heart cries out


	  America's Answer

    Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders dead.
    The fight that ye so bravely led
    We've taken up.  And we will keep
    True faith with you who lie asleep
    With each a cross to mark his bed,
      In Flanders fields.
    
    Fear not that ye have died for naught.
    The torch you threw to us we caught.
    Ten million hands will hold it high,
    and Freedom's light shall never die!
    We've learned the lessons that ye taught
      In Flanders fields.

			   R. W. Lilliard


Thank you Rob.  For lessons learned and wisdom gained.

But mostly for showing me who I am.

--mark
--
Mark Morrissey
markm@cse.ogi.edu