A local man was killed early this month along the snow-covered road leading out to the highway; the homicide investigation is continuing. I never met the man, not sure I ever saw him even though he lived within walking distance of my house. From various sources, I have put together a hazy picture of the victim; friends, official sources, rumor and innuendo, collection of animals and pets recovered, and some of his possessions stored in my garage.

   The dead man was a former Marine, served in Desert Storm as a platoon leader. I like to believe his fallen comrades met him at the gates; no Marine is left behind. The dead man studied the night sky with a sturdy and uncomplicated telescope. Through an exceptional and unexpected collection of books he studied history, art, and some of the wonders of the contemporary world. The dead man moved to this area because of the vastness of the landscape: space to wrestle his own demons and peace to walk with the angels. He was denied that freedom.

   I didn’t know the dead man, but I would have liked to. At such a time the centuries old words of Jon Donne come to mind: “Seek not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.”