My name is David, and I apologize for the cut and paste announcement. Mr. More was active on several dozen boards, and even moderated a few. He left a list of sites, accounts, and passwords so that an announcement such as this could be made. He was quite concerned with making sure he did not just vanish. I have previously posted some information on the sites I knew of, but there were several more that I only learned of from his notebook. If this comes as a shock to anyone, you have my apologies.
Shortly after 3 PM, EST, on Friday, September 28th, Robert More, better known to many online as SuperScot, GreatScot, The Sandman, The Big Red Dog, and sometimes just plain Bob, passed away peacefully from complications arising from advanced cancer. First diagnosed with prostate cancer in the Fall of 1998, He fought it to a standstill for many years until it finally spread into his liver, pancreas, and spine in early 2012. He was a remarkable man who lived a remarkable life. Born in a small town near Inverness, he enlisted in the BAF and rose to the rank of Sergeant, serving in Northern Ireland during the troubles, Egypt, and the Caribbean. After mustering out he traveled for a time, working as a coal miner in Poland, a waiter in Barcelona, and a stevedore in London, among other jobs, before returning to college to earn the first of several degrees. Soon after that he moved to the United States with his wife, taking a position teaching English at a high school in Missouri. In the 90s they moved to Ohio where he taught middle school. He was beloved by his students. By 2009, his various medical conditions (he suffered from rheumatoid arthritis as well as bone spurs in his spine along with the cancer) had become serious enough that he needed help with daily tasks, and as he had no living relatives in the States, he moved in with my wife and I. We were happy to have him.
I first met Mr. More when I was assigned to him as a student teacher. When introduced to me, he looked me in the eye and said, "All right, lad. You might have the stones for the job. Let's start unlearning all the shit they taught you in University." Although now that I come to reflect on it, he may have said "shyte," but that is likely my imagination rewriting my memory. He was a great believer in the eyes being the mirror to the soul, and often made weaker men uncomfortable with his direct, even gaze.
My wife was with him when he passed. She was reading to him from a book called "Aloha From Hell." He had requested the title. After an hour or so he asked her to stop reading and hold his hand. This was not an unusual request from him. Although he was, for most of his life, and intensely private and un-demonstrative man (at least with adults), as he grew more infirm he seemed to crave contact. He was quiet for a long time, then he said, "OK. It's OK. Don't worry. It's OK." He grew quiet again for a few minutes, then fell asleep. Shortly thereafter he died. There was no trauma; he was not frightened. I once asked him what would come after death. He told me he had no idea, but he was pretty sure no one had gotten it right yet. "If it's harps and clouds," he said, "I'm not going."
Mr. More's body will be cremated next week and sent back to Scotland to be scattered on ancestral land. He is survived by an estranged brother, whose location is unknown, several cousins in Scotland who will be handling the disposal of the remains, and his wife, who suffers from advanced Alzheimer's and is in a resident care facility.
In Mr. More's will it is specified that he does not wish a memorial or service, preferring not to be remembered as a body in a coffin. He was fond of Guinness, and requested that a pint be raised in his honor if any be so inclined.
He left some writings behind in his notebook. He was a great one for writing. There is a page with notes to unknown persons. I assume these are directed at individuals he knew online. I have sent these messages to the intended individuals when information allowing that was included. The ones that I am unsure of where to send are repeated below.
"Jackson9, move on. He will never be what you want him to be. Loving someone does not mean you must let them hurt you."
"Distand, keep the lights on. What you do has worth. You provide a home for people who need it. Keep the barbarians off the gates and the nuts on the tree."
"Radiation, were beauty measured by the soul instead of the body, you would be legendary on the status of Helen of Troy. Be strong."
"Canonfodder, I am sorry."
"Robert E. Glee, think hard before you commit your soul to what you are proposing. This is not a choice you can come back from."
"Iron Bite, calm down. You are accepted. You are valued. You don't have anything to prove."
"Miles, I deeply regret that you were not my son. I would have done right by you. Do not let the fact that your biological father did not do so crush you. Fire can temper as well as destroy. Be tempered."
"Kinectic, No. I never believed it of you for a moment. You never lost my faith and trust."
"Nova Nova, you have nothing to apologize for. I always accepted you as you were. I am sorry that others did not."
"Igor122, hatred is toxic and exhausting."