just finished reading Terri’s book, my steve. its been out for a while now, but i only recently received it as a gift (i received two actually, within a week) and it has been a precious gift, not only because i’ve wanted it for a long time now, but because it was significant gifts from people who sat with me when i sat, staring fixatedly at old re-runs of croc diaries. i remember the moment i found out about his death. i was staying in a hall-room during a particular youth advocacy camp. i don’t usually stay in during camps that i train in, but the prospect of rooming with the hufflepuff and not having to wake up at the crack of dawn to travel west was too enticing. a phone call (can’t remember who now, please inform me if you are the one) came in and told me, i sat there in disbelief. i remember the huffle saying i looked grey and shaky. had to get my act together for the next segment, i went in and broke the news to the whole room of participants and we all took a moment of silence.
the book was a painfully honest one, sweet and funny–and surprisingly visual. i teared up from the first chapter, and held a choke in my throat through it all. the last few chapters had me openly crying, much like the tribute i watched on livefeed on animal planet.
thank you for the book, and thank you for the book.
i resolve to give a part of my first paycheck to Wildlife Warriors.