Thursday, June 6, 2019
1857: Remembering RB Young from Lincoln County Watch
By Anna Von Reitz
When I remember RB I remember his
voice late at night discussing points of Law and history, religion,
military protocol, foreign relations--the entire depth of life and our
mutual endeavor -- which is nothing more or less than the quest for
justice, decency, and freedom for Mankind.
He died a year ago today,
unexpectedly, of "natural causes" that the coroner could not describe or
explain. It seems that a diver's embolism that should have killed him
twenty years ago, finally caught up with him in Whitefish, Montana, the
best part of a thousand miles from the sea.
Go figure. He would have smiled and told us there is a plan and meaning and a timing for all this, and for each one of us.
A time and a season and a season and a time, he'd say.
RB had died before so he wasn't
afraid of death. He told me he had a Mission since his Near Death
Experience (NDE) and this was it-- to call people home, to protect them
with the truth, and finish the long labor of research he took on in the
years after his diving accident.
He worked hard over the Memorial Day
Weekend last year, put on the after-burners and really pushed. He was
tired at the end of it, but called me up sounding relieved and told me
it was over, and done, and he'd completed everything.
He hit the send button and it went off through the cyberspace to me and several others to review.
I heard once more from him a couple
days later, and he said he was looking forward to a rest --and then came
the news that he was gone.
Our plan, for him to come to Alaska and talk shop and tromp around the Great Land, never happened.
It would have been a respite and a
thank you for all his work and research, but looking back, I know he had
a different journey in mind.
Imagine my surprise and delight when
his adopted son showed up this spring and we were able to share a
little bit of Alaska with him?
It's all right. It all comes full circle.
RB didn't make it up here to visit,
but he sent his son on the Alaskan adventure in his place and the legacy
of a good man still runs true, a blessing for us all.
Somewhere in Montana high on a
mountain slope, his son let go of his ashes today. A little bit of
closure came. Here in Alaska, we raised a toast as the sun went down. I
sat staring into the flames of a fire until the embers were cold, then
shook myself like an old owl fluffing her feathers, and all alone with
the sorrow, sauntered home.
RB was a younger heir of the Montana
Freemen, among those who first realized that something was drastically
wrong with our country, and who set off down the road to find out what
went wrong, where, when, and why.
As a result of so much work by so many good people, we finally have the answers.
Rest In Peace, RB, among your
brothers, the other Marines who went before and did their work and
didn't complain or quit-- not even when they found themselves
outnumbered and betrayed.
God bless you, and yours, RB, and
all the good men of this country who have lived their lives and
contributed unselfishly to others. Semper Fi, dear friend. We miss you.
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