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Richard Bowes is dead. Normally, I write "has left the planet" when a fellow science fiction writer dies. But in this case, I'd have to write has left New York City. Oh man, did he love New York! Particularly Old New York, the city that can only be found in remnants and nostalgia. It was not so much a theme in his writing as a character.
Which makes it ironic that he was born in Boston. But when he came to the City, he came to stay. He made it a part of himself.
Bowes was a fine writer and a good man. He had a quick wit and a warm heart. He was a gay activist back when they were greatly needed.
Over on Facebook, his niece wrote a long and loving post of what he meant to his extended family. Here's one small part of it. It captures the essence of the man better than I could hope to:
To our family, Ricky was the heart and soul of our holiday gatherings. His hilarious "backrub train" and unmatched wit brought laughter and joy to every occasion. More than his written words or his advocacy for equality, Ricky's legacy lies in the laughter, love, and resilience he shared with us all. He had a remarkable knack for engaging with every person and experience, from discussing various subjects like history, baseball, pop culture, and politics, to taking joy in the ordinary. His genuine interest and delight in our lives made him both endearing and fascinating.
Farewell, my friend. New York City is a sadder place without you.
Above: I swiped the pic of Richard Bowes from SFWA's Nebula Awards entry on him at https://nebulas.sfwa.org/nominees/richard-bowes/
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