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Here at Pasado's, we
were in the throws of organizing the Disaster Summit. Those who we met,
and connected souls with in New Orleans
during the aftermath of Katrina, would be attending. They were flying in
from around the country, and a lot had to be done in preparation for the
"Summit". And of course, the world of animal rescue and day-to-day tasks
didn't stop either. It was a busy, hectic time, when the word came on a
cell phone call. |
We were at
a meeting with volunteers, at someone's home, enjoying home-made cookies
and snacks everyone brought. Casual conversation was filling time until
the meeting began. And then the phone rang.
Kim, one of the Katrina PasadoRescuers, who answered the phone, let out
a wail: Roger, a gentle soul, with an enormous spirit, who rescued
beside us in New Orleans, chose to take his life.
The meeting stopped. The world stopped. Sobs began and the question -
'why must someone so good, have to die?"
It has been several days now since we heard the news. We still don't
have the answer to that question. As men try to rig airliners with
explosives, attempting to bring down thousands of people in fiery death,
a quiet man, who tried to save life, one body at a time, is gone. It
just makes no sense to any of us. |
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Those who knew him
were sure that holding the Summit, planning for the future rescue of
animals, is how he'd like to be honored. So we carried on, welcomed
those who came, and announced that the Summit- the good that
would come from it - was in Roger's memory.
That night, a memorial was held for Roger in his home-town of Winthrop,
Washington. An upscale "cow-town", not unlike what you might find in the
fields of Montana. Winthrop, nestled in the idyllic Methow Valley, is a dry and dusty village rising on the Eastside of the Cascade
Mountains. It's the opposite of everything its better-known brother to
the West - Seattle, is known for: covered in snow in the winter and
rolling dry hills that you can see to the horizon in the sweltering heat
of the summer. This is where those who knew him would gather that night. |
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The Perseid, one of
the largest meteor showers that frequents earth's skies, just happened
to fall on this night. It is a site to behold if you've ever been
witness. We have. One chilly night, or rather early, early morning, volunteers,
wrapped in blankets - and dogs on our laps to keep us warm, watched as
giant meteors streamed across Pasado's sanctuary. Tails, miles long,
burst across the sky at rapid intervals. It was an amazing night.
Was it the universe's plan to organize a spectacular event in the night
sky for Roger? We'd like to think so. |
The
following e-mails came in with the photos you see here. We welcome those
who have more memories of Roger to share them with us here. Perhaps you
knew him as a child. Perhaps as a neighbor. Or in the sweat and
sorrow of New Orleans following Katrina. Please
send us your memories,
and we will add them to this far-too insignificant memorial to him.
"I remember Roger as much for what he was as for what he wasn't -- he
was always so calm, never prone to the emotional outbursts, attitude or
"interpersonal catfights" I experienced in others. He was steady as a
rock; I remember working next to his side late at night or early in the
morning getting animals ready for transport, and he moved with humans
and animals alike in a gentle, quiet, seemingly effortless but efficient
way. His focus was singular, his energy natural and compassionate. In my
mind's eye, I see him as a gentle giant, a bear of a man, moving softly
between both worlds almost within the shadows -- he was not someone
seeking to be on center stage. I suspect that still waters ran very
deep. My heart goes out to those who knew him better than I, who saw
beyond the surface, who
are deeply grieving his passing. I know how much he meant to you,
Yvonne, and how much he helped steer your ship upon your return.
A piece of my heart will be with you in the Methow Valley come Saturday
. . . look skyward at the stars that night and wish Roger peace for me.
Love, Jennifer" |
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And another...
"He was the gentle giant, the "Grizzly Adams" of Raceland, Louisiana
where we had set up our rescue efforts. A few months ago, he visited
Pasado's Safe Haven for the first time. As Roger Olsen and I wandered
through the barns and pastures, he continued to repeat words like
"peaceful", "beautiful", "tranquil". At one point he stopped at a
paddock gate, looked out
towards the mountains and said: "It's kind of like the opposite of New
Orleans, where all the animals were scared and stressed". In "normal"
times, Roger lived in the North Cascades (somehow appropriate) and this
big, burley fellow was actually a blacksmith. Although, usually in
construction, being a blacksmith fit him perfectly. |
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realized that until that moment, neither of us had any idea what the
other did in the "normal" world ~ this is pretty typical of the "New
Orleans" experience. During the disaster, there was this incredible
gathering of "souls", where there was no time or room for personal gain
and ego. Life was based on one goal and one goal only: get these animals
out of Dodge! Looking back on our list of volunteers who helped us
through the exhausting process, there were ACTUALLY brain surgeons
trudging through sludge and taking care of animals right beside rocket
scientists! Who knew?! No one. Nor did it matter. |
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recently had a conversation with someone who wanted to "rubber-neck" the
NOLA disaster. In the middle of this discussion I stopped and told this
person about how I would wake up in the morning before the sun rose,
aching and exhausted from having helped load 60 dogs and cats onto
transportation out of Raceland at 4:30am, never mind the days and nights
of non-stop caring for devastated animals. I would wander into the
darkened barn, just barely able to see shadows of others who were
starting to trickle in to help. Someone would turn the lights on, and
then there it was! Brilliant as could be! A force of uncompromised,
unyielding love and compassion like I have never witnessed before. Roger
was a huge part of this experience. He would be by my side working with
all his might in the wee hours of the morning ... giving all his love to
the frightened animals, or helping me to drive an injured volunteer to
the hospital. But most impressively, he was always the first person to
envelop you with a bear hug that would take you to a love-filled,
wonderfully safe place ... right in the middle of this chaos. In New
Orleans, indeed, there was complete sorrow, there was devastated
brokenness, there were even horrific sights, BUT there was also a
bright, brilliant spirit of human kindness like you could never imagine.
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My thoughts bring
me back to the Pasado's visit with Roger ... last September/October may
not have been peaceful, it certainly wasn't tranquil but boy, BEAUTY was
all around us ... and Roger defined it.
There is this great
Pasado's Safe Haven sign just outside my window that says it all: "Sweet
creatures who pass this way, once scared and alone. Welcome to peace,
for now you are home."
Thank you Roger, for
showing me your wonderful spirit and being so beautiful. I know you,
too, are at peace, and you are home. I miss you.
xo Kim" |
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