...I'm perplexed...by the sentiment in the forum about a good death, a noble death, one without plane crashes, ( too bad, Buddy Holly!). He was doing what he loved, and that is well said and truthfull. But it would be no less capricious or germane if he'd died eating a sandwich and choked. (Sorry, Mama Cass), or fell off a ladder in the home. (sorry Sandy Denny.) And his life would mean as much regardless of the method of his exit. Our world makes too much of this.
He pulled the barb from his chest and died. I do like him for that, for as always, he was a straightforward Soul; 'this thing does not belong here, hurts like hell, and I'm pulling it out.'
Tom Fetter looks to the family, as do many of us. It was the way you looked, though, Tom, that was also perplexing. The Croc Hunter created/joined his family...participated, established; you name it, in the field of naturalism with inherent risks. You can't remove the family from the man; if he'd moved sheets of paper at a bank it would not be the same family, though no less tragic.
Hell; it's all tragic. We die. There is no right way to say it or think about it. So, forget I wrote this dumb peice. The accident was a million to one and I do not blame our Croc Hunter for it.
munk
