Not quite sure why I've been so affected by the illness and death of Christopher Hitchens. He could be fussy at times, but he was elegantly fussy. So elegant, he wasn't offensive.
I rarely agreed with him, but I always read his columns. Vanity Fair is my life. It is a magazine that smells good, and it is full of pretty people. Sigh. It is going to be much harder to tote the weary load without without VF columnists, Dominick Dunne (who died in 2009), and Christopher Hitchens.
Although he wrote on a variety of subjects, Hitchens was a notorious, often angry atheist. He delighted in poking and pointing at the foibles of Believers. The man thought even Mother Theresa was a phony. Still, he called her a phony in a nice way, somehow. He was amused to learn that Christians were praying for a deathbed conversion. He was adamant that he neither needed nor wanted the prayers of anyone.
Yes, I am one of those who took a little revenge for his occasional snarkiness by praying for him. Not so much that he'd be healed, as that is too specific a prayer, and life or death is not my business.
Just a simple "may it be okay, and not so bad for him."
And now I suspect Christopher Hitchens knows what God looks like.
©Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood Enterprises, Ltd.
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