[image via ih8religion]

Without a doubt, this is our favorite freewheeling photograph of the late, great Christopher Hitchens, whose passing we can barely comprehend. So we turn to the words of Graydon Carter, who writes of this image in his touching memoriam:

“I once sent him out on a mission to break the most niggling laws still on the books in New York City. One such decree forbade riding a bicycle with your feet off the pedals. The photograph that ran with the column, of Christopher sailing a small bike through Central Park with his legs in the air, looked like something out of the Moscow Circus.”

Photograph by Christian Witkin. (via vanityfair)

The first time I heard Christopher Hitchens’ name was when I was a sophomore in high school, which at that time was a private, fundamentalist Christian school. We were discussing Mother Theresa and the teacher was implying that even though she was wrong (Catholic, and not proper Christian) about her faith, she was still a good person who did good deeds, regardless of what people like Hitchens might say. I went back and watched those old interviews with him last night, calling Theresa a fraud and a crook and an evil woman, and I wonder who will stand up and attack religion with that candor and ferocity now that he’s gone.

Although it was hardly a surprise for anyone who has kept up with Hitchens’ life and work over the last year or so, his death still has me choked up. He was as much of a hero to me this year as anyone has ever been, and I was just saying a few weeks ago that I would give so much for an opportunity to meet him or see him speak before his time came. He was stunningly brilliant, hilarious, and taught me that you should never back down from a fight for something you truly believe in. Especially when it is something that affects the safety and happiness of hundreds of millions of people around the world.

So even though it might be silly to be writing this post about a man I never met, I have to say that I am going to miss this guy. I won’t belittle him by implying that I’m trying to send some kind of message to him, or by saying that I hope he’s in a happy place, because I know he’d think that’s garbage. He’s gone - completely gone - but he will be remembered, and I won’t stop talking about him, and I know his interviews and debates and books and essays won’t stop helping and healing people any time soon.

(via npr)