for Robert Bates
1/5/1981 to 12/26/2001
His sword, unnotched, lies on his breast;
His unmarked shield hangs from the wall;
His new-trained steed, unridden, frets;
His pristine mail stands in the hall.
The bards will never sing his deeds;
His quests are left for other men.
We know not where his path now leads,
For he has passed beyond our ken.
Still, raise your glass, and toast his name,
And let him have the hero’s part,
For though his moment never came,
We know he had a hero’s heart.
Paul Haynie
12/31/2001
I met Robert Bates in the Yahoo community for the Dragonstorm game in the fall of 2001; we became friends, though we never met. He was going to have a gaming house party for his 21st birthday, and I had made plans to attend… And then on December 27 I received word that he had died in an industrial accident at the site where he worked as a security guard. The first report I received was that he had hanged himself, but fortunately (a really uncomfortable word, in this case) further investigation led to the death being declared an accident. I wanted to write something about it, and had a long talk with Signe, who simply refused to get involved; Robert was outside of her portfolio. Fortunately, I have other sources; as it turned out, I sat down to write this poem AS Robert’s memorial service was taking place, several hundred miles away.
Uncle Hyena