Rick’s note: This is a guest post by an old friend and the man who first published me, Steve Sylvester.
In mid-1984 I launched a fledgling alternative newspaper – Stepping Out Magazine – which eventually morphed into the Indianapolis New Times and a nearly nine-year run. I think it was during planning for our second issue when I met Rick Powell. He was an undergraduate student in Indy back then and he submitted a review of Prince’s “Purple Rain” film to me for publication. Upon reading only the first few paragraphs, I knew this расписание прогулок на речном трамвайчике по Москве article – and its author – were exceptional.
And so began a truly special publishing relationship with Rick, for whom my admiration, sometimes awe, only grew with time. He never disappointed in the quality of his writing, in the poignancy of his views, with his style, or quite remarkably with his courage (shall I say his ballsiness in speaking truth to power). He is one of the few I worked with whom I trusted to select his own subject matter, whether for music reviews or more substantial essays. He never missed a deadline, never needed editing, never complained.- -not even about the modest compensation we offered.
One thing I know about Rick after these years of association and observation, is that he is a magnet and sometimes a lightning rod for other creative types and for progressive thinkers. I doubt he even imagines the countless number of people he has inspired by his words and by his example– and that includes me.
At the heart of it, Rick exemplifies what Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., attributed to the underlying power of the written word, which is: “You are not alone.”
No matter what paths we individually traveled in the years since The New Times, I always felt I have a kindred spirit with Rick in this world. But most of all I remain so proud to call him my friend.
And here’s what I wrote to him in a Facebook message after I began reading this blog:
I much admire your courage in sharing the intimate details of what you have been enduring healthwise. I understand the personal toll and how this must be fucking with your mind and spirit. I hope you rise above the depression. I hope you have the kind of friends around you who can help with this. But I also know, ultimately, that no one else can touch the deepest inner thoughts you are experiencing.
When I was 32 yrs-old, (well before you knew me) I had bladder cancer .. the youngest case that the Urology Dept. at Indiana University Hospital had ever seen, they said. The following five years of exams, surgery, treatment and followup exams took a toll on me, too. To say it was all very ‘invasive’ is an understatement. But I was amazed at what I could become accustomed to.
Perhaps, in my case, a healthy (or not) dose of denial concerning the worse case scenario buoyed me. I don’t know. But somehow, I seem to find myself recommending denial to you, too … to the extent that I firmly believe that denying the possiblity of an early death is entirely appropriate. (I don’t know what comes after denial, I’ve never gotten to that point yet.) More denial?
I will only say, that in my view this planet needs you. I need you, and you have had a profound affect upon my life and thought processes. So keep doing all you have to do, enduring the hard times ahead in treatment, and try to believe that you are invincible.
Very best wishes,
Steve
