The death of Harry Morgan, alias, Col. Potter, and dozens of other characters, leaves a hole of unmeasurable depth in American drama. I never met anyone who didn’t love him. I never met anyone who didn’t desire the qualities he portrayed in that simple character on M*A*S*H. Yes, we will miss him, but, for what it’s worth, there is always syndication.

What’s left to say? A generation is passing off the stage. The list is staggering. So many shoes to fill, or better still, bring on the new shoes. You can read the annual list of the departed and say, “It will never be the same”. Of course, that’s true. But it never has been the same. And there is the issue.

I’ll strive to keep moving in my mourning. Moving is change. No matter how simple the movement, it goes hand in hand with change. We praise those things that do not change: mountains, the rising sun, the stars above. But these days we are told that instruments never before dreamed of now measure the shift in the mountains, our sun and stars. Change is life. Movement, however small, is living. It’s never the same.

Perhaps, therein lies the cure for boredom and sadness. Perhaps therein lies the source of joy.

I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that.

Keep moving, my friends.

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