
My brother sent me a link to the story from the BBC. He has become privy to my love of MFU, and now asks to watch episodes when he comes to visit. He knew the passing of Robert Vaughn would matter to me.
I imagine we've all avoided the idea that these men would not always be with us, that time would eventually claim one or both of them within our lifetime, certainly. In our minds and imaginations they remain as they were, young and handsome and exciting. Napoleon is forever flirting and romancing the women fortunate enough to catch his eye, annoying his partner and making Alexander Waverly shake his head at the cavalier attitude his top agent displays on occasion.
Now more than ever the fiction we write is part of a legacy; the ode to what Vaughn and McCallum created on screen isn't limited by death, or by absence. Time doesn't matter when we write because the stories are a type of time machine, transporting us back to Del Floria's, into the chrome and metal corridors and through the swishing doors. Mr. Waverly is still there, commanding his agents and leading the fight against an enemy we believe will ultimately fail.
This is the day we dreaded, the event we couldn't fully imagine. Psalm 103 describe life's frailty:
Our days on earth are like grass; like wildflowers, we bloom and die.
Other translations use the word flourish, and certainly Robert Vaughn did flourish in so many way. His art, his life's philosophy and work in the political and social arenas, all point to a man who was committed to what he believed in. Thankfully, although the man will no longer walk among us, his contributions will remain. He will live on in the films and other television work that he did, but more than anything else to those of us gathered here, we know that Napoleon Solo will always be here, will always live to fight another day.
