"Thanks, Rick"

Bill Hazlett wrote a heartfelt memoriam at http://billhazlett.blogspot.com/2008/10/thanks-rick.html on October 15 on his blog As You Like It

Every morning I rise at 5am. I head down the stairs, through the dining room and into the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee and then I step out on my back porch and look up at the stars. These days Orion is back. Straight overhead. Lower and to the left is Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. A couple of years ago I didn't appreciate any of this. I didn't appreciate a clear sky at 5:15 in the morning. Then my wife and I started going to the Ward Beecher Planetarium almost every Saturday night. It was a cheap date. And we were hooked.

The major reason we kept going was a man named Rick Pirko. Rick presented most of the planetariums programs. He made everything that he was interested in very easy to understand. Once my wife and I became "regulars", (as Rick referred to the small core group that showed up most of the time) he would often stay and talk to us after the show. He would ask our opinion about different programs and about the planetarium in general. It was easy to see that he loved what he was doing. And it seemed to the casual observer that he could do almost anything.
I remember last Halloween at the Oakland Performing Arts Center the Zhou was performing music from Rocky Horror Picture Show. Rick was in the audience with his camera. When the sound system went on the blink, Rick jumped on stage and fixed it.

But Rick's lasting impression on me will always be in the stars. I don't know much about astronomy but what I do know Rick and the crew at the Ward Beecher Planetarium taught me. I will be forever grateful. Rick Pirko passed from this life this morning. He is the same age as I am. His final lesson for me is to see my own mortality as clearly as Orion on a clear winter night.

In my Buddhist practice everyday I recite "The Foundation of all Perfections" by Je Tsongkapa. One of the verses says that "Spirit quivers in flesh like a bubble in water" I will miss you Rick.
Tomorrow morning when I rise at 5am and walk down the stairs and through the dining room into the kitchen, I will put on the coffee and step outside and look up at the sky. And it is then that I will remember Rick. And every morning thereafter. Thank you.