Memorial to the late Angie Riedel by Vyz

Angela Riedel, who brought us the world of Think Or Be Eaten and was a friend to and a supporter of many who were truly independent activists and who provided a massive amount of good information for free, has passed away.

Details about her death are few, but Tuesday, May 28, a Sunnyvale, Calif., police department commander informed me—in response to a welfare check I requested at her home—that she was deceased and apparently from natural causes.

Two days later, I received information through a third party, who contacted the Santa Clara County Coroner’s office, that confirmed Angie had died of natural causes. She succumbed to a ruptured aortic aneurysm.

Most people who have them don’t ever know it. Folks often live a lifetime without the aneurysm causing a fatal event. However, the aortic aneurysm is called “the widow maker” because death is without warning and swift and painless.

The coroner determined that Angie suffered from hypertension—which she complained about on occasion—and that condition—and this is my speculation—coupled with the rigorous task of packing, might have triggered the rupture of the aorta. Or, perhaps, the aneurysm simply did its thing at this particular time in her life. Either way, she did not suffer.

Although Angie was not at all happy about being forced to move, she described to me in an e-mail the apartment she had secured—I believe around San Jose—and seemed optimistic about the chances for her and her cat to be comfortable there. The apartment had a loft, with an entrance on the ground floor, with plenty of open space and an in-unit washer and dryer. It did sound very good and I had asked her to send pictures when she could.

As far as I know, she must have died between the day after our last contact, April 23, and May 5, the day she was to have moved.

I became concerned when I hadn’t heard from her either in response to e-mails or by calls to what was supposed to be her “old” phone number. By May 17, I couldn’t get a new phone listing—or even be told the number was unlisted—in the area code covering the new locale to which she was to have moved. I didn’t like the fact that the old number had not been disconnected with the message machine still working.

I was hoping she, at the worst, was in a depressed state and just wanted to get herself back together before she communicated with anyone. I wanted to not push it, thinking it was best to just give her space. But a call to her on the Friday morning before the Memorial Day—at which time I left a message—and a follow-up call the Tuesday after Memorial Day—during which the phone rang endlessly with no machine pick up—convinced me I had to inquire.

There was no doubt Angie didn’t want to be uprooted. She loved her home. And I think the home loved her. Across the years, she’d tell me about strange sounds and the moving of objects that could not be attributed to her cat. It seemed as if she knew she had a, let’s say, spritely poltergeist in the house, not malevolent by any stretch.

Considering how I wish to remember her for all time, I’d advance this: Could it be that the house didn’t want her to leave as much she didn’t want to leave the house? If so, then could it be that both house and Angie now have what they wanted and are content?

And could it be that whatever family takes possession of the home may one day come to find there is not one but two spritely poltergeists in residence?

I’ll end with an excerpt from Angie’s last post “Dogs Explaining Cats to Other Dogs” on http://thinkorbeeaten.blogspot.com dated Dec. 25, 2012. It is quintessential Angie.

Life is a miracle. 

And with that final thought I will wrap it up for today.  I wish you everything good and bright and meaningful and happy for the holiday.  Loiter under the mistletoe for me.  I'll just be kissing the cat tonight.  If I can catch him.  He's a fast sucker.

Below is a link to the last interview I did with Angie. Enjoy her voice and her persona, both of which will live on forever.

http://thinkorbeeaten.com/007vyz/ang.mp3