One of my neighbors, who I knew primarily as “the guy who played GURPS in his garage on summer evenings,” passed away last month. I just found out about it while talking to his wife, when I ran into her on the street with her Pomeranian and awkwardly and obliviously asked how the roleplaying game campaign was going. We obviously weren’t close, I didn’t even know his name, but I had sat in on their campaign once for an hour or two, and when the curtains weren’t drawn I’d looked through the windows (in passing) and seen the shelves covered with row upon row of science fiction and fantasy novels by authors I had never heard of. He was old, but he didn’t seem to be in more than his late 50s or early 60s. “They play GURPS somewhere else now,” his wife told me, as I fumbled to try to give her my condolences, to apologize for not having known. “How could you have known?” she said.
NEXT UPDATE: Wednesday!