This is the day, in 1995, that Bob Monroe transitioned back out of the physical, age nearly 80
I was in New York City that day, having gone up particularly to meet Colin Wilson, my long-time favorite author, which turned out to be a delight. The next morning I bought the New York Times, sure there would be an obit for Bob, but there wasn’t. (I realized later that they probably hadn’t even known about it so quickly.)
No obit, for Bob Monroe! I thought of Emerson’s words at Thoreau’s funeral, to the effect that the country didn’t yet know how great a son it had lost. I thought, in a hundred years, there won’t be an educated person on the face of the planet who won’t have heard his name. But in 1995 it was still too early.