Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday as a result of injuries to his brain that he sustained in a fall at his Manhattan home. He was 84.
He was proud that he never successfully committed suicide.
One of my law school friends says that his earliest memory of me from those halcyon days is that I quoted Kurt Vonnegut all of the time.
Was I an insufferable asshole or what?
His last years were mostly spent on the lecture circuit where he urged listeners to think for themselves and to be skeptical about the media and religion. His last book, "Man Without A Country" is a collection of essays about such matters. For all of his mordant humor and depression I actually found Vonnegut to be a rather hopeful writer, a characterization that he would probably find astounding. Vonnegut loved people. You can sense it in the essays in "Man Without A Country."
Hope abides in the heart that loves. No matter how cynical is the head.
The world is always diminished when a hopeful heart is gone. Peace, Mr. Vonnegut.