RIP Riley Smith

Saying goodbye to a LaFondian

Five years ago, I came across the website of a citizen journalist recording his life as a pedestrian in riot-gripped Baltimore.  By strange means, I was then pulled into this web of self selected people who value the truth and each other from across great distances.  Some of these people have opened their homes to our little orbit's center of gravity, the man himself.  Riley was one of these, and James and I  had the chance to interview him while James stayed in his remote Colorado castle.  Riley was ready for the happening and he got the satisfaction of seeing it start.

Follow this link for our podcast with Riley, sometimes known as the Checkered Demon.

Bob is a dear friend of James' and mine, chief in the exclusive group that has hosted James in his inspired wanderings, and he has this to say about Riley:

I've been staring out the window, snowing again. Thinking about a good friend of mine who passed away last Tuesday. I only knew him a short time, too short in fact. We met on James LaFond's blog site, this is very unusual for me, just as writing to anyone is foreign to me. I'm an aged introvert, damn proud of it. Riley and I met as do most of my friends, arguing, something small as subjects go, I think it was about bears. I realized in exchanging emails, there was something familiar about his style of writing, and speaking, and it was still there later, when we talked on the phone. He was a southern gentleman, and part of my family came to the west from the southern regions.

I always had a better rapport with this side of my family, they were my favorite, including my crazy Norwegian uncles. Riley's life stories were warm, hilarious, and sometimes heartfelt, he was a master of telling stories, he was a fine writer also. My wife made a comment while I was talking to him, as he recalled a time of his life on a oil barge.  My wife said she hadn't heard me laugh like that for years. 

He had a love of firearms, as most rural men do. He restored Savage Model 99s, a beautifully and elegantly designed lever action rifle. I have this long gun too, they hadn't made left-handed bolt action rifles for southpaws yet when I got it, and the lever action was comfortable for we freaks, as we are called in jest sometimes. 

Riley and I had a lot in common, we were raised in a similar environment, I wished we had met sooner. The world will be worse off from his absence. A part of you dies when you lose such a man. Riley I hope we met again someday, I pretty sure sooner than later. He was a real man, a rarity in the world now days , Godspeed my friend, hope we can share a little whiskey again. 

Bob

Riley was writing a story, I have most of it, but he was still working on the ending. It was a piece of fiction starring James and featuring some other LaFondians. I was helping him edit and format it. He asked me not to tell his friends that he trusted a woman.  His last email to me was on Monday, and I have been thinking about it ever since, my time for Crackpot work has been cut way back by the coronapocalypse. It bothered me that I owed him an answer. Turns out he had waited less than 24 hours. I wrote back yesterday, maybe he can see it from where he is.

So long, Riley,
Lynn