[Industrialblog,
October 23, 2006]
Ron McRae
NOTE: This post has been corrected. Ron did not spend the whole summer in the hospital. He was in fact in and out of the hospital, and I'm not sure how much was "in" and how much was "out". I misintrepreted an email. IB regrets the error.
NOTE 2: Ron died on Oct. 11, not Oct. 4, as originally noted.
*********
A former colleague, Ron McRae, has died. You may recognize the name; Ron posted here at IB for a couple of months.
I last saw Ron in February when he came into the office here in Springfield. He looked terrible, struggling for breath with each step. He looked on his last legs.
He was trying to reconnect with people ... he'd been living in Central PA for several years, working on his magnum opus, Einstein's Last Folly. He was tired from the isolation and the struggle with the book, and felt that he was right on the cusp of finishing it and publishing the book.
We went to lunch, and had one of our wide-ranging conversations on chess, economics, foreign policy, and of course, epistemology. I remember thinking how much I missed those conversations; we had had many such discussions in six years of working together, and now, four years later, it was nice to remember how enjoyable those conversations were.
He was a brilliant man, albeit a tortured soul — but he usually had a good sense of humor about the tortured part. Sometimes he wore it as a badge of honor. He was one of a kind, something out of a Dostoevsky novel, or perhaps more Dickensian, a tragic vision, a person who could not quite permit himself to succeed, and who struggled to manage his enormous talent and contain his mental problems. In the end, he fought his shortcomings to a stalemate in this world. A chess player would appreciate that.
The conversation back in February would be our last; we had a falling out in April over materials on this blog: no need to recap it. In late May, Ron McRae was felled by a heart attack. He spent the summer in and out of the hospital, fought all summer, and then died on Oct. 11.
He dies leaving many of us with pleasant, one-of-a-kind- memories and many anecdotes to share with friends and loved ones. He had a way of summing up things — once, he told me that he hated a job so much, that the only way he could convince himself to go to work was to tell himself that "I'm only leaving the house to get breakfast." After breakfast, he'd decide to go to work.
Ron McRae grew up in Buffalo, N.Y. He loved his mother very much, and missed her terribly after her death, something he only touched on once or twice. I don't think he'd mind if I shared that. He attended public schools in Buffalo and went to Dartmouth College. He joined the Navy, and then worked for Washington muckraker Jack Anderson. There, he did some stories on paranormal activities, especially as related to Defense Department research, and published a book, Mind Wars, in 1984.
He spent some time in the 80s as a stringer for the Economist in Beirut; there, he witnessed what he considered horrific Israeli atrocities against Palestinian and Lebanese civilians. He was so deeply affected by seeing six Palestinian youths burned internally with phosphorous that he came to side with Palestinian terrorists against Israel.
He later left Lebanon and worked for newsletter companies on and off for about 10 years back in the States, finally leaving the business in 2002 after several top New York agents showed interest in his book. I have witnessed this — I met the agent, who called a draft of one section of the book "brilliant," and felt if Ron could finish it, it would sell. The last four years of Ron's life were dedicated to trying to finish this book while coping with his personal demons. As a writer, you have to appreciate the ones who die on their shield, and Ron did, struggling to the end to find a way to put his vision on paper.
A one-of-a-kind has passed away, and in the place he goes, epistemology is no longer an issue ... "for now through a glass darkly, but then, face to face." Ron, rest in peace. I have no doubt about your baptism of desire. May God bless you and keep you. May you be reunited with your mother. And may you have many pleasant conversations with the philosophers and the sages. I know that when you saw the Forms ... it was all worth it.
Pax Christi.
NOTE 2: Ron died on Oct. 11, not Oct. 4, as originally noted.
*********
A former colleague, Ron McRae, has died. You may recognize the name; Ron posted here at IB for a couple of months.
I last saw Ron in February when he came into the office here in Springfield. He looked terrible, struggling for breath with each step. He looked on his last legs.
He was trying to reconnect with people ... he'd been living in Central PA for several years, working on his magnum opus, Einstein's Last Folly. He was tired from the isolation and the struggle with the book, and felt that he was right on the cusp of finishing it and publishing the book.
We went to lunch, and had one of our wide-ranging conversations on chess, economics, foreign policy, and of course, epistemology. I remember thinking how much I missed those conversations; we had had many such discussions in six years of working together, and now, four years later, it was nice to remember how enjoyable those conversations were.
He was a brilliant man, albeit a tortured soul — but he usually had a good sense of humor about the tortured part. Sometimes he wore it as a badge of honor. He was one of a kind, something out of a Dostoevsky novel, or perhaps more Dickensian, a tragic vision, a person who could not quite permit himself to succeed, and who struggled to manage his enormous talent and contain his mental problems. In the end, he fought his shortcomings to a stalemate in this world. A chess player would appreciate that.
The conversation back in February would be our last; we had a falling out in April over materials on this blog: no need to recap it. In late May, Ron McRae was felled by a heart attack. He spent the summer in and out of the hospital, fought all summer, and then died on Oct. 11.
He dies leaving many of us with pleasant, one-of-a-kind- memories and many anecdotes to share with friends and loved ones. He had a way of summing up things — once, he told me that he hated a job so much, that the only way he could convince himself to go to work was to tell himself that "I'm only leaving the house to get breakfast." After breakfast, he'd decide to go to work.
Ron McRae grew up in Buffalo, N.Y. He loved his mother very much, and missed her terribly after her death, something he only touched on once or twice. I don't think he'd mind if I shared that. He attended public schools in Buffalo and went to Dartmouth College. He joined the Navy, and then worked for Washington muckraker Jack Anderson. There, he did some stories on paranormal activities, especially as related to Defense Department research, and published a book, Mind Wars, in 1984.
He spent some time in the 80s as a stringer for the Economist in Beirut; there, he witnessed what he considered horrific Israeli atrocities against Palestinian and Lebanese civilians. He was so deeply affected by seeing six Palestinian youths burned internally with phosphorous that he came to side with Palestinian terrorists against Israel.
He later left Lebanon and worked for newsletter companies on and off for about 10 years back in the States, finally leaving the business in 2002 after several top New York agents showed interest in his book. I have witnessed this — I met the agent, who called a draft of one section of the book "brilliant," and felt if Ron could finish it, it would sell. The last four years of Ron's life were dedicated to trying to finish this book while coping with his personal demons. As a writer, you have to appreciate the ones who die on their shield, and Ron did, struggling to the end to find a way to put his vision on paper.
A one-of-a-kind has passed away, and in the place he goes, epistemology is no longer an issue ... "for now through a glass darkly, but then, face to face." Ron, rest in peace. I have no doubt about your baptism of desire. May God bless you and keep you. May you be reunited with your mother. And may you have many pleasant conversations with the philosophers and the sages. I know that when you saw the Forms ... it was all worth it.
Pax Christi.
Requiescat in pace.
I'm so sorry to hear of Ron's demise. The few conversations I had with him had me thinking days later. I think you put this very well and I know he especially trusted you.
Here's to a great thinker, for thinking is, in itself, the most worthy endeavor.
-Brian
Frank Krewda