A Memorial for Bob Everton

I was shocked and saddened to learn of Bob�s death. He changed my life.

I have taken many classes and Bob�s were the best. He was a caring and passionate teacher in an often impersonal academic environment.

With much gratitude, Nathan Elliot.

Dialogue on Democracy: The Bob Everton Memorial Colloquium

Friday May 6th, 2005
Simon Fraser University, Harbour Centre (515 West Hastings Street)

Afternoon Presentations and Discussion 12:30-5:30pm (room 2270)
Evening Memorial and Celebration: 7:00-9:00pm (room 1700)

For nearly twenty years, Dr. Bob Everton was a vital member of the Simon Fraser University as a student, lecturer, T.S.S.U. organizer, activist, mentor, and friend. His exemplary life was tragically cut short by a heart attack in December. Bob was a source of inspiration for countless students, colleagues, and comrades, both within the university and in the communities in which he lived as he pursued a better world today through an enviable combination of curiosity, critical inquiry, militancy, love, and respect.

On Friday, May 6th, a day-long colloquium will be held at SFU Harbour Centre, intended as a public gathering to remember, reflect, and act upon themes which animated Bob’s life as a scholar, activist, and beloved community member.

During the three afternoon sessions, some of Bob’s students, friends and colleagues will begin discussion with short presentations on the following themes:

Session 1: Radical Scholarship 12:30-2:00pm (room: 2270)

· Arthur-Martins Aginam: Globalization and Imperialism in Africa
· Yuezhi Zhao: “Media, Civil Society and the Dynamics of Regime Change in Venezuela” by Bob Everton
· Mark Cote: Goodbye Fascist, Farewell Sad Militants!
· Facilitator: Scott Uzelman

Session 2: Precarious Labour Under Neoliberal Rule 2:15-3:45pm (room: 2270)
· Sebastian Touza: One Should not Bargain with Market Terrorism: On Being Immortal Amidst Precariousness
· Joel Blok: Organizing Untenured University Labour
· Gretchen Dulmage: Labour struggles in Neoliberal BC
· Care of the Self Intervention: Neena Shahani
· Facilitator: Maryann Abbs

Session #3: Affinity, Activism and Democracy 4:00-5:30pm (room 2270)

· Caelie Frampton: Institutional and Political Activist Ethnography
· Maryann Abbs: What does Democracy Look Like? A discussion of reclaiming democracy and creating change.
· Megan Adam: Appropriating Technology: Security, Internet Services and the Struggle.
· Care of the Self Intervention: Jackie Larkin
· Facilitator: Tammie Tupechka

Evening Celebration

The Joy of Being a Free Radical: Evening Memorial and Celebration
7:00 pm (room 1700)

Please join us in remembering and celebrating Bob’s amazing life in story, video, poetry and song.
· Poetry and song by Carmen Rodriguez
· Video interview with Bob by Rob Duffy
· Keynote speeches by Dorothy Kidd (A transnational movement for communications liberation) and William Santiago-Valles (The price of the ticket: notes on being an intellectual in the colonies)
· Slide show, personal anecdotes and song

Admission: Free
For more information, please email: bob-colloquium@sfu.ca

Sponsored by: SFU School of Communication, SFU Latin American Studies
Program, SFPIRG, and the School of Communication Graduate Caucus

I recieved my Windsor Alumni magazine a week ago and happened to be scanning through it when I read that Prof Everton had died. As a Comm student at Windsor, Prof. Everton was one of my favorite teachers. He gave me room to formulate and expand my own opinions, rather than state what was right or wrong. He had a great passion for what he did, which I believe is carried on by every student he ever taught. He was very cool and always up for a good debate!
He will definately be missed

i just found out a few minutes ago that bob has been dead for 4 months. i happened on the blog of red-cedar.ca and read of bob’s death.

he could be a profoundly exasperating man, but he was a good man. working hard to make a better world. i worked with bob on the grandview woodlands area council for years. and many was the hour i was happy to have spent with bob, myles and firoozeh and a whole passel of other great folks, drinking beer, and talking politics - or arguing politics.

the last time i saw him we were at a meeting or an event, or something, together [i can’t right this minute remember which one, i’m so stunned by this news], i drove him home and we sat and talked about the changes that being at windsor had made in his life, and his decision to return to bc. we talked about teaching and how much he loved that work, and had endless crticisims of the institution in which he worked.

he was too young to be gone. damn.
frances

Although many years have passed, no one could forget Robert Everton. I remember when I lived up on Sointula in the 1970s seeing Robert on the news. It was then that I realized he had become a political activist. The last time we met was at the 20-year Burnaby North Secondary School reunion. Robert was valedictorian at our high school graduation in 1967. It is no surprise to me that he went on to achieve great things, not the least becoming a professor at S.F.U., where I was once a student myself.

It is with great sadness that I learned of his death and I am sure he will be greatly missed by his closest family and friends.

An old school friend,

Marilyn (Bestwick) Crosbie

For nearly twenty years, Dr. Bob Everton was a vital member of the Simon Fraser University as a student, lecturer, T.S.S.U. organizer, activist, mentor, and friend. His exemplary life was tragically cut short by a heart attack in December. The university was not only a site of great importance to Bob, but also one of ongoing contestation. But his lifelong pursuit for social justice and democracy could not be contained by the institution, carrying him from revolutionary Chile in the early 1970s to the Encuentro in Chiapas in 1996, to ongoing community struggles in his home of East Vancouver. Within the university, Bob was a source of inspiration for countless students and colleagues as he pursued a better world today through an enviable combination of curiosity, critical inquiry, militancy, love, and respect. Finally, Bob was one of the few remaining linksthrough the early supervision of Dr. Dallas Smythe in the School of Communicationto a radical history of SFU that cannot be forgotten.

On May 6th, a day-long colloquium will be held at SFU Harbour Centre, intended as a public gathering to remember, reflect, and act upon themes which animated his life as a scholar, activist, and beloved community member. We invite Bob’s students, friends and colleagues to propose short presentations to begin dialogue on Community, Activism and University.

Potential starting points for discussion include:
· radical pedagogy
· non and anti-capitalist alternatives
· popular memory
· activist research
· direct action
· internationalism
· radical social transformation and revolution
· radical democracy
· neoliberalism
· precarious university labour
· an ethic for the care of the self

While some presentations will comprise more traditional scholarly papers, we encourage any and all creative and diverse forms of presentations such as story telling, poetry, questions for discussion, video, song, puppet theatre, etc. All presentations should be short (10 minutes maximum). The final format of the colloquium will be determined by the proposals. Regardless, the emphasis will be on creating an inclusive comfortable space with a focus on stimulating dialogue among all in attendance. The day will conclude with a brief memorial for Bob, followed by a party of remembrance and celebration.

Please send your proposals to bob-colloquium@sfu.ca by February 28.

I was in one of Bob’s classes when he taught at SFU. It’s just funny how deep an impact he has made in my life considering the once a week, 2-hour lessons we have together for only one semester. It has been almost 2 months since he left us and I find myself constantly coming back to this site, reading and re-reading what others have to say about Bob and each time, I leave the site feeling that I have known him a whole lot more. Every morning, when I read the newspaper, I can always hear Bob’s voice in the background, advocating the need to follow alternate media and to adopt a skeptical stance towards new reports. He has taught me the importance of democracy and justice. It is because of people like Bob that the world is a better place to live in. Thank you Bob, for all that you have taught me and will continue to teach me.

I first met Robert when I was nine years old. Every Saturday morning for several years we were on the same 5 pin bowling team called “The Champions". A fitting title for a very “serious” young man. We all called him Robert then. Six nine year olds giggling, laughing, and a little roughhousing must have been a treat for the parents.

Our paths crossed again at Burnaby North Secondary. Robert was always at the fore front, organizing and looking into what was best for the students. He made an excellent class President. Again, he was in my life for a short time when he helped organize the 20 year reunion for graduates of 1967. He was the MC as well. No matter where he appeared Robert always made an impression; especially on me.

Jump to 1998. I arrived at SFU to work in the Temp Pool. My second position at SFU was with the Dean of Arts working with Asia Canada and Latin American studies. I met Dr. Monica Escudero and one morning she was telling me about “Bob” and his work in Latin America. In my naivety I said that I knew a Robert Everton, could this be the same person? And so it was. He was still the same warm, caring, and interested person I knew as a young child on a bowling team, a curious and bewildered teen, and a new Mom at a twenty year reunion of class peers.

Though our paths crossed infrequently and we did not know one another well, Robert was memorable. He will be truly missed. I know it is a selfish thought, but I will miss the crossing of paths.

I am deeply saddened to learn of Bob’s passing. Bob and I crossed paths, literally and figuratively over many years at SFU, at protests and on the Drive. A few years ago, I was lucky enough to work with him when I completed my ISW facilitator practicum. I appreciated his laid-back approach, as well as his passion and compassion. On the first day of introductions to the larger group, Bob announced, “I am Bob and I am working to dismantle the WTO!” Right on Brother-Friend!

During the course of an intensive one-week workshop, we shared stories about our lives, mutual friends and acquaintances and our fundamental hopes for peace and social justice in the world. Somehow, talking to Bob made these goals seem achievable, rather than lofty. I was impressed by his commitment to teaching and learning and dedication to social justice. On a personal level, I enjoyed many laughs with him and was ever-so grateful for his kindness. I was fortunate enough to get to know this man with whom I crossed paths with so often, and more pleased to learn that he was such a decent fellow.

We stayed in touch via email when he moved to Windsor and returned. Yesterday, I went to send an email about the plight of women amidst the disaster in Asia and realized that now I had to remove his name from my address book. I could not do it.

Bob’s death is a great loss for so many individuals and communities. Our lives were made richer by his presence. The world is certainly a sadder place without him.

Rizwana

The Heart of Christmas with My Uncle

When looking at my Uncle Rob’s life, one word comes to mind: passion. “Unca”, as we affectionately called him, was passionate about everything from menial tasks such as cutting a piece a wood to paramount processes of the Chilean coup in the 1970’s.

Unca hated Christmas with a passion and he had no fear of making that clear. It wasn’t the social, family oriented time of the holidays that drove him crazy but the overt consumerism and push to conform to some prescribed notion of Christmas that didn’t sit well with his understanding of a good time. He despised the excessive amounts of wrapping paper, the crowded shopping malls, the traffic congestion and the electricity consumption. This was not because he was a negative man but rather a logical thinker that critically viewed the world around him. Unca felt that the true value of Christmas was in the social interaction and this he loved with all his heart.

Each year my family and I spent a ridiculous amount of time negotiating just how the coming Christmas was going to evolve to better accommodate his unique desire. On several occasions, Unca said “can we skip Christmas this year?” We would say, “what do you mean SKIP Christmas?” And he would respond “well, like the giving of the gifts would be nice to cut out.” The simplest way to dismiss his requests would be to say “sure Unca, no problem, we won’t exchange gifts this year!” And that would suffice as it essentially gave him the opportunity to not stress out about the procedure of purchasing gifts for us. However, both he and we always found at least a few things to wrap and slide under the tree.

A few years ago we decided to make it our tradition to go to the family cabin for the holidays. This would be our gift to ourselves and it would alleviate the pressure of coming up with an array of presents. Initially, Boxing Day was the chosen departure day however in an attempted hijacking of Christmas, Unca began to push for us to actually leave on December 25th. This was debated by all and on several occasions. And of course he thoroughly enjoyed the debate. Our response was to simply make the exchanging of the gifts on the day before the departure. A shrug of his shoulders would express the frustration that we would indeed continue to meet as a family at my mom’s.

This year, Unca and Ted were planning on going to Birkenhead on December 25th. During my brother’s birthday dinner we elected to have the dinner somewhere other than my mom’s which was unprecedented in our family. Unca, to my surprise, gladly offered to host the party. The day was magically set as December 23rd. (The day of the funeral service.)

Following my Uncle’s passing, Ted and I were going through his closet and happened upon his stash of gifts. This year he was prepared! In the last 15 years of Christmas that I have spent with my uncle, never before can I remember him having wrapped the presents before midnight. On this special occasion, there was one gift wrapped. It read “To Meems, Love Santa”. Translation: to my mom, love my uncle. It will surely be a meaningful gift as everything he ever gave, came from his heart! Needless to say, this was often and ongoing and we benefited greatly from his excessive kindness. Not just at Christmas but throughout the year. He clearly found great joy giving to us and the community more than any other that I have ever met.

Tonight’s celebration of Unca’s life is exactly what my uncle would want out of Christmas. A massive gathering of friends and family in a space within the community that was so dear to him. Every type of conversation is welcome in this space: from deep political discussion to small talk are all appropriate. As long as the words come from your heart!

Dave Hamar
December 22, 2004

I first met Bob in Oventic, Chiapas during the International Encounter Against Neoliberalism and for Humanity in 1996.

I can remember being so impressed by his enthusiasm and deep conviction in what was unfolding before our eyes - voices of resistances from all corners fo the world, a people resurrecting hope and revealing a struggle for liberation that belongs to everyone.

Bob’s love for justice was very present throughout our time in Zapatista liberated territory and defined the tone of the Mohawk-Canada delegation. He was the only one to suggest and eventually set up an interview with women soldiers and commanders for us young women revolutionaries to talk with. His excitment was contagious and his eagerness to share was crucial in providing the backdrop to Latin American myhtology references which surround resistance and struggle.

I am thankful to have shared that time with him, as it was a definite moment in my life. I am grateful to have such memories of him, as I know I have met the finest men and women on this long journey towards justice and liberation.

Long Live Bob Everton!
Solidarity and Justice,
Sarita Ahooja.

Dear all,

At Bob’s memorial, inspired by the number of sectors of solidarity/restistance in Vancouver that had been touched by Bob’s life and commitment, I suggested developing a project to document Bob’s life and the way it intersected with so many parts of our community here.

In order to follow to explore the possible paths such a memorial might take, we are holding a first potluck/meeting at Mary Ann Abbs and Eric Doherty’s home (2021 Kitchener St.) at 7 PM on Monday, January 10.

All are welcome to bring ideas about how Bob’s work and life can inspire others to continue.

Steve

Dear Bob:

Thank you for all your loving support.
Thank you for being so open about your personal life. The personal was political for you. You lived in a glass house. The first conversation I remember having with you was in 1985 at Joe’s Coffee Shop (before there was a boycott). You told me you were an incest survivor and doing personal healing work.
Thank you for serving 10 years on Grandview-Woodlands Area Council. You loved our neighbourhood and were willing to fight for it. The meetings were so worthwhile mainly because you were there.
Thank you for giving me that gentle nudge that sent me to Chiapas and for receiving my phone calls my phone calls when I was there.
Thank you for getting me through my Masters Degree.
Thank you for your clear-minded support when I was amidst conflicting & combating interests during APEC.
Thank you for the good wine, snacks, conversations, tears and laughter together.
Thank you for consistently believing in me.
You lived your life close to your heart … finally your physical heart gave out.
With gratitude, I will remember you always. Hasta La Victoria Siempre.

Donna Clark

Bob was a familiar stranger to me. Since moving to the Eastside in ‘97 I often passed him by on the Drive, one of those familiar faces I would see here and there at various locations and events. I think it was the summer of ‘99, or perhaps 2000, at the Vancouver Folk Fest, when I actually had a brief chat with Bob.

As is my habit at the Fest, I wandered off to a more secluded spot by the pond to enjoy a joint. Bob, who was either sitting or strolling nearby, noticed and asked if he could join me. I like people like that. We chatted for about half an hour, and though I can’t recall the subject matter (probably academic as I was either just about to begin or just ending first year law) I remember he was very intriguing. Having read the tributes to Bob here, I now regret not making an effort to get to know him.

The news of the death of a stranger usually does not affect me. But this news did. Perhaps because it reminded me of my own mortality (I’m a year younger than Bob). But I think more so, it’s because the familiarity of his face made him more than just a stranger to me. And now, reading some of the details of his life in these various tributes, it made me wonder how many amazing people, who’ve lived incredible lives, live all around me. People whose faces I would recognize in a crowd, but not know a thing about.

Bob and I may not have known each other, but in this small way he touched my life, teaching me through his death not to ignore the familiar stranger.

Perry

I am Rob’s cousin. I have many wonderful memories of playing with Rob and his two sisters, Jane and Betty, and when I think back on it this is one of my earliest ones. I don’t know how old I was, but I think I was about 6, and Rob about 10.

It was about 1960. I thought cowboys were great and I wanted to be one. I had a straw hat and I wanted to play “cowboys and Indians” and enlisted Rob to join me, but on the condition that I would be the cowboy and he would be the “Indian". As I recall, we ran around and shot things at one another and then he caught me and tied me to a tree. I protested, and said that the cowboys were supposed to win, and he said “well, this time the Indians are winning.”

And he left me there. Did he come back and untie me? Yes. Eventually. After I got the message.

Judy H.

While this may not sound like a truly inspirational story to many, I can now clearly recall it meant quite a bit to me at the time. While I was a Comm. Studies student at the University of Windsor I was working many midnight shifts at a factory in town to help pay for my schooling. As a student I took many night courses as it was always easier to go to class before going into work than it would have been to take morning classes after work. Often this meant going to work with with little rest prior to going in….sometimes i would ask profs if it was possible for me to leave class early in an effort to get some rest before work (keeping in mind i wouldnt let it affect my grades.) Of ALL of my profs throughout my schooling only Professor Everton was kind enough to understand my position and made it clear to me that should I ever feel the need to leave early he would understand, as he said (im paraphrasing here) “noone should have to go to work without a hot meal and some rest.” Funny how i had forgotten something that seemed so HUGE at the time. He was truly a caring individual and while this may seem trivial to some, it was a very big deal to me at the time, and i still look back on it and realize just how caring he was.

Joe DeRose

I am hard pressed finding adequate words to describe the shock and grieve on learning about the passing on of Bob. Bob was a friend and a collegue at the Department of Communication Studies at the University of Windsor. In fact, he was more than a colleague; he was a family friend, who was geniunely interested in the welfare of my family. My wife screamed when I woke her up this morning to break the news of our friend’s passing. That’s how much Bob meant to us. We met Bob for only a brief period, but it seemed as though we have met him all our lives.

Bob was a fine human being, inspirational, amiable, niecely groomed, and compassionate. As I write these lines, Bob’s radiant smiles, heartful laughters, warm, friendly hugs keep resonating in my mind. The last intimate interaction with Bob was in our home a couple of years ago in Windsor. The vibrant, easy-going, jovial persona of Bob is etched so refeshingly deeply in my memory that it appears our interaction took place only yesterday. That day when Bob revealed to us that he was likely to return to British Columbia, tears involuntarily welled in my eyes.

As a scholar, educator, and activist, he was in a class of his own. He was Professor Praxis, practicing what he preached. Deeply concerned with the fate and struggles of the disenfranchized, downtrodden and the deprived, Bob translated his theoretical knowledge about social injustice into action, working in the field to better the lives of the poor. Not only that, he interactions with and deep knowledge of the struggles of the “wretched of the Earth” informed his teaching and scholarship.

Bob’s transition one huge loss andthe world is the poorer by it. He will be sorely missed. As we say in my native Ghana, “Damrifa Due, Damrifa Due, Bob!”
May your soul rest in eternal peace!
Charles Quist-Adade

bob. dr everton. friend.
there are so many names for someone so rare and special.
i prefer to remember him as ‘bobby’, yelled out joyfully with my arm raised like a fist but waving, imagining him crossing the street, always smiling, always embracing those he knew. to know that i will never be able to greet him again that way, to feel the wind at my back and have my day brightened because bob is in sight is difficult to grasp.
i wonder if i’ll ever meet anyone else so committed to his beliefs, so intensely committed to social justice, so generous and warm in the uncompromising embrace of his friends. i’ve simply never known anyone who could be so dedicated to what he belived in, yet never seeking to dominate those around him by forcing his beliefs on them.
that’s why bob was always such an exemplary teacher. his pedagogy was based on offering tools to those who listened and by using those myriad tools in all the different struggles in which he took part. and bob never stopped learning, always ready to listen, always remembering that he was only just beginning to receive the wisdom of those he encountered.
whenever a student is inspired, whenever people fight for social justice, whenever we remember that the way forward is through joy and love, bob will be alive. may he long live!
bobby.

mark coté

Recordandote

Each time we meet
your warmth and welcoming smile
kafiya loosely wraps your neck
declares your solidarity
bending to greet and talk with me
because I am bajita
and you believe in
acercandote a la gente
being close to the people

How can you be gone?
companyero, friend,
spiritual confidante,
cheerleader
on this brutal path we chose
called a Phd
intellectual pursuit and
Personal Healing Degree
and you understood that too!

Your behaviour
modelled for us
a new leftist vision
rooted in feminism and respect
innovative and critical thought
at once
weaving threads of the past and
building something new

Engaging style
Brilliant mind
Generous heart

We are so much smaller for losing you
and so much bigger for having known you

Cristina Soto

I am not afraid to say that Bob Everton was one of my heroes. What other name can we give to those who inspire us to be better people? I knew him first as a teacher, then as a colleague in graduate school at SFU and always as a friend. Many times we were comrades in organizing and on the street. We went to Quebec City as part of the “East Vancouver Liberation Front". We occupied the DFAIT offices in Vancouver as part of the “Teddy Bear Brigade.” Most recently, as Autonomistas we helped to organize a puppet show about the 2001 uprising in Argentina. The names of these groups and the actions they carried out speak well to Bob’s politics: non-sectarian, playful, passionate, non-cynical and always rooted in hope. And while Bob was always outraged at the injustice that structures our world, his struggle, whether it was through education, demonstration, direct action or in simple acts of friendship that build and reinforce community, rarely was it conducted with anger. His was a joyful politics - a politics of joyful outrage. Outrage at what is outrageous. Joy in the hope that we will overcome it. Joy in the work and play of overcoming it.

What better message could one write with one’s life?

Bob. My hero, always.

Scott Uzelman

I met Bob at my first meeting in Vancouver, about a day or two after moving here. It was a VCACG meeting in March of 2000, and we were planning the MayDay march of that year. Like many others, I was struck by his friendliness and his active support for all of us of the next generation of agitators: never patronizing, always energetic, and willing to let us learn in our own ways and in our own time.

While I saw and chatted with Bob from time to time, I never really knew that much about his past work, and I find it sad that I’m only finding out now about the amazing impact he’s had over all of northern and southern Turtle Island.

Today I found out that Bob was one of the founding members of Spartacus Books, an organization I’ve worked with since moving here. As many of you know, Spartacus burned down last April after 31 years of operation, and we’re working to bring it back. But I just never knew that he was involved in it in during its formation, but it totally makes sense. Spartacus started as a book-buying club at SFU, so students could better afford radical books and materials. And after a few years, it expanded to become a community space, a community book-buying club of sorts, especially necessary a few decades back when there weren’t other sources of alternative materials. We’ll see Spartacus again, and we’ll also see Bob, in the exuberance and vitality expressed in radical thought and action.

From all of us at Spartacus Books, we thank Bob Everton and the many others who started this amazing resource, for their inspiration and their foresight, as we organize to bring it back to the Vancouver community. Personally, I thank Bob for teaching me an important lesson even after his death: to know the people I work with better. I could always see and feel Bob’s goodness, his heart and passion, but I never really knew him. And now I’m saddened by that, and wonder how many other people around me I don’t really know, and could learn so much from…

–jess

I was fortunate enough to have met Professor Everton this past September in his Political Economy class at Simon Fraser University. When I heard the news of his passing, I was shocked and saddened to see a man so bright, so full of life, strength and knowledge leave us all too soon.

Bob truly inspired me – not only to work harder and achieve better grades, but to really become active. Often times the subject matter we were studying in our Political Economy class could become quite depressing and concerning leaving many students wondering what we could do to make a difference in this world. As a close to the course, Bob provided an interactive lecture to offer suggestions to students, showing us many different pathways leading to making that difference. Bob always had an open door and his work empowered his students.

I had been looking forward to studying the News Discourse class with Bob this winter. It was really the only class I was excited about taking. Bob just had this way of creating an atmosphere in which I always felt I could accomplish anything I set my mind to.

Bob, you will be missed.

Ilia Horsburgh

I was Bob’s teaching assistant at the University of Windsor. He was a great guy to work for and a great teacher. I never had him as a professor myself, but I often sat in while he lectured. His students were always very much captivated because you could tell he loved what he did. His enthusiasm for communication studies and social justice was really what made his classes so great.

I learned so much from him just working as his assistant - knowledge that will stick with me for the rest of my life. I was shocked to hear he died. He seemed so full of life when I last saw him in 2002 - and seemed much younger than 50.

Just a month ago, I tried to find his contact information. I really wish I had tried harder. I had no idea I wouldn’t be able to do it later…

Eulogy for Bob Everton

by Victor Finberg

No one lives forever. This is guaranteed. What is important is what we do with the time we have.

Most people live their whole lives without having an impact. Some people cause great harm. A few have a positive influence on the world.

Bob Everton was one of this last group. Both directly through his interactions with other people and indirectly through his work, Bob made the world a better place.

I have known Bob Everton for about 15 years. I am proud to be able to call him my friend, and fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with him. I worked with him when he was the Organizer for the Teaching Support Staff Union back in 1990. I worked with him in the Vancouver International of Hope after he returned from the First Intercontinental Encounter against Neo-Liberalism, and for Humanity, hosted by the Zapatistas in 1996. To the best of my knowledge, everything the Bob did was about empowering people and building democratic structures.

Bob made many contributions. Any activist who has been working in Vancouver in the past several decades knows and respects him. It is impossible to summarize a person in one sentence, but what stands out most clearly in my mind about Bob Everton is this. His understanding of the power relationships existing in the world, his ability to explain them, and his vision of the way society might be organized were the most coherent of any person I have ever met.

Many people of Bob’s capabilities use their energies to improve their own situation. But Bob’s way was always the Zapatista way: everything for everybody, nothing for themselves. Bob could have built a fine academic career for himself. He could have earned a large salary. But then his contributions would have been limited to academic circles. Instead he chose to work among the people. The loss was his; the gain is ours.

Eventually, after much agonizing, Bob put his activism on hold for a while and wrote a Ph.D. thesis which showed that democratic systems can and did exist in the past. This should prove a valuable tool in helping to refute the idea that oppressive power structures are the best way to organize society.

Bob Everton is gone, but he will not be forgotten. When one comrade falls, those of us who remain standing have to keep moving forwards. In the words of the immortal Joe Hill: “Don’t mourn, organize!”

Bob was one of the first people I met when I moved back to Vancouver in 1999. We worked on the same project mobilizing folks for the WTO in Seattle (haha – remember the VGA, and its subsequent incarnations, VCACG and DAN?). Bob remained a constant in my community organizing experience for the next five years. He was very supportive, enthusiastic, and encouraged me to voice my opinions. If you know how … er, reserved … the Vancouver political community was in 1999 (and still can be), you can appreciate how I valued his support. How I will miss his passionate, opinionated energy!

I got to know Bob on a more personal level this past year. I was going through a bit of a rough time in the late spring. Bob lived close by, and he called often to make sure I was doing alright. He was concerned for my wellbeing, and even up to a couple months ago was telling me that I should cut back on the late nights at work.

In the fall, Bob was enthusiastic about starting an “East Van Assembly”. He invited me to the meetings. Well, I must confess that I did go to a few meetings, not out of any real desire to participate, but because I wanted to support Bob until this idea got off the ground. How ironic that many of Bob’s friends, comrades and family will be assembling tonight – which he would have loved – to remember Bob and celebrate his life.

Stephanie

To re-member means to run through the heart again, to re-connect in order to overcome the dis-membering that we have undergone.

Everton was one of the people who invited me to the SFU School of Communication’s Graduate Caucus when I first arrived in Vancouver. He was not the only one but one to whom I had to pay attention because he had done things in Chile with sistren and bretheren held in high regard across Latin America and the Caribbean. During the years in which that Caucus was a righteous seminar of intellectual ethics, it was evident that in Chile he had learned well to combine research, teaching, activism, and community organizing. Together with Witheford, Ruggles, and I we also visited Prof. Dallas Smythe to hear him read and to discuss his work on political economy and communication. After Ruggles travelled to Windsor, with Everton and Witherford we had the Smythes over for supper one December evening and we dreamt awake of a better world in our lifetimes.

After the Zapatistas welcomed the free trade agreement, Everton combined the Green and the Red banners all over the East End of Vancouver, bringing the experiences of La Dignindad [as in organized dignity] from the jungles of Chiapas to the jungles of concentrated poverty in Lotus land. I had the pleasure of hearing him think out loud and clear on panels up on the mountain Campus and in political rallies. Others can speak at the wake about the bridge that Everton created between the classroom, the academic conference and the street.

I would like to remind all of you at his wake tonight of two things:

First, of a Rastafarian hymn written by another prophet Bob who also spoke truth to power. A hymn in which Marley wrote: “I would rather be a free man in my grave that to live like a puppet or a slave.” Everton was a living example of progressive ideas turned into direct collective actions with intelligence and discipline.

Second, that it was possible to learn about the bridges I mentioned before by watching the way Everton supported his son, surrounding him with information needed to move forward in a difficult time. Those of you there tonight remember that a friend arrives after everyone else has left to continue the work unfinished. The way Everton was a friend to his son should also be an example to us all if our ideas are to have a future in our lifetimes.

Being a teacher is not a means for earning a living, but a way of living and he taught us all.

Santiago

I think that I first met Bob when he returned from the First Intergalactic Gathering – for Humanity and Against Neoliberalism. He was inspired by the Zapatista movement and he conveyed his passion about the movement to many people. I remember him from the experience of organizing for the International of Hope gatherings. And, in a way, the International of Hope really does describe Bob. Bob was the community optimist, the guy who could take setbacks and keep on going – in fact I think he never talked about any alternative but to keep on fighting. Bob was also an internationalist – he was inspired by and participated in struggles from Chile to Mexico, Venezuela, and Argentina and also very much locally.

Bob loved getting people together to talk and take action. Whether it was organizing the International of Hope gatherings in Vancouver, helping to get people together to go to Seattle and Quebec City, organizing potlucks of radical labour activists, or floating the idea of starting a community assembly, Bob was about getting people together to talk stuff out, learn to trust each other, and take action.

Bob’s death has brought together people who have not seen each other in years: people from different cities, from different political tendencies. I hope it is not so long until we meet again. What I’ve tried to learn from Bob is the ability that he had to work in a non-sectarian way – yet without becoming a pragmatist or betraying his principles. Bob did not betray the social movements that he worked with in his youth, but worked to strengthen and transform them. Many could learn from this example. Bob believed passionately in community, but he also believed in political integrity.

Bob showed me that radical politics are not just a symptom of youth. I’m at the age when I’m supposed to grow up and realize that the revolution is not just around the corner. We’ve been told that it’s time to grow up and reject the fairytale of that real transformation can occur – that it’s time to settle for lesser of evils. Bob, on the other hand, was always there to mentor and teach new activists and radicals. Because of this commitment, Bob often had difficulty getting work, even though he was a gifted teacher. Often passion and political integrity don’t go hand in hand with decent paychecks.

One of the last things that I worked on with Bob was to gather community support for striking HEU workers. Bob was totally committed to walking the picket line, leafleting, and making sure that people were ready for the anticipated general strike. He helped to organize a large community gathering to mobilize support for hospital workers, and the general strike. And, like many of us, he was outraged when the strike was called off at the last minute.

Bob’s put his heart into social movements and teaching. And, in the end, his heart ruptured - maybe from too much love for people and justice, or maybe it was just tired and time to stop. Bob’s heart might have stopped – but be sure that ours are full of the knowledge and inspiration that he has left us.

With much sadness and a pledge to keep on fighting…

Maryann Abbs

I learned the sad news about Bob this past Sunday morning with a phone call from Shelly, a fellow ex-Vancouver activist now living in Montreal. Immediately, my thoughts wandered back to the old La Quena Coffeehouse on Commercial Drive in East Van, the site of so many activist meetings, events, debates, arguments and great conversations.

One event in particular stands out: a late summer night in 1996 when La Quena was packed for a report-back by four delegates to the “Intercontinental Gathering for Humanity and against Neoliberalism” in Chiapas.

Bob was one of the delegates, and for the first time, I experienced his optimism and dynamism, his sense of possibility, his genuine enthusiasm for political struggle, his critical thinking, his capacity for making links, for encouraging projects, for taking the time to listen.

It’s only now that I realize how we take people like Bob for granted, expecting their positive presence to always be there, like those beautiful mountains around Vancouver. There is no other way to put it: it’s a fucking shame that Bob is gone. We need him, and he will be sorely, sorely missed. Bob would have been a righteous old man.

I was a relatively new arrival on the East Van scene in 1996, but Bob was so encouraging of what some of us young turks were planning around the APEC Summit, and countless other initiatives around the Drive and the Downtown Eastside. He was always ready to help out, with his contacts, with his expertise, with some friendly advice, with a word of encouragement.

I am lucky to have learned from Bob during my few years in Vancouver, to have been his ally, and to have enjoyed his support. There’s an infamous video of my nabbing on the campus of UBC by undercover cops, the day before the APEC Summit in 1997. Well, that’s Bob’s voice in the background, yelling “So much for democracy!” as he tried to push his way through the plainclothes police. I screamed when I was nabbed on an isolated part of campus, not sure if someone would hear and spread the word. I’m so glad and lucky that Bob heard. It was Bob who seized the moment, proceeding to give animated speeches, to whoever would listen, denouncing the repressive climate on campus, and helping mobilize folks to march to the police station. I remember when Bob ended up testifying at the APEC hearing, how his passion and honesty stood out markedly among all those crusty lawyers and journalists.

When Shelly and I spoke on the phone, and I recounted some of the old La Quena and APEC stories in Vancouver, she remembered seeing Bob in Quebec City in 2001, on the second day of the tear-gas riot, again giving his spontaneous speeches on the streets. This time, he was urging folks to march to the fence; in Shelly’s recollection, Bob screamed, “You young folks gotta march to the fence! You gotta make them tear-gas you! The tear-gas is flying back into the cops’ faces! We’re winning!”

You share the stories, and you smile. And then you realize Bob is gone, and again, nothing to say but it’s a fucking shame.

It was with people like Bob, and Shelly, and dozens of others, that something called the “International of Hope” was organized in Vancouver, what we described as “a Zapatista-inspired gathering of local activists resisting neo-liberalism and creatively building alternatives.” Bob brought a needed spirit of sharing, of debate and critical engagement to the International of Hope during those few years when every couple of months we’d put together a community workshop weekend or assembly at places like the Carnegie Center or Brittania. To this day, the International of Hope, and Bob’s spirit of non-sectarianism and openness, is a model.

Another ex-Vancouver activist in Montreal, Macdonald, wrote how those famous words, “Don’t mourn, organize!” are almost tailor-made for Bob. It’s one solace I can take, knowing that our continued commitment to struggle, to solidarity and to genuine social change is the best way to honour the passing of a comrade like Bob Everton.

“Por todos nuestros muertos, ni un minuto de silencio. Toda una vida de lucha.”
[To honor our dead, not a minute of silence. A whole life of struggle.]

– Jaggi Singh
December 23, 2004
MONTREAL

I will miss bob everton.

Bob was a very special person. His optimism and positive outlook on life and ‘la lucha’ were inspiring and will always be honoured and remembered.

I first met bob in 1997, he was a tireless organizer who was eternally supportive, quick with a smile or a fantastic solidarity hug.

Over the past years, the few times that i saw bob, his warmth and care flowed from him and i always felt at though we were the best of old friends overjoyed to see each other.

His loss leaves a space that we can only do our very best to rise up to and fill.

hasta siempre amigo -
with love,

bryce

To re-member means to run through the heart again, to re-connect in order to overcome the dis-membering that we have undergone.

Everton was one of the people who invited me to the SFU School of Communication’s Graduate Caucus when I first arrvied in Vancouver. He was not the only one but one to whom I had to pay attention because he had done things in Chile with sistren and bretheren held in high regard across Latin America and the Caribbean. During the years in which that Caucus was a righteous seminar of intellectual ethics, it was evident that in Chile he had learned well to combine research, teaching, activism, and community organizing. Together with Witheford, Ruggles, and I we also visited Prof. Dallas Smythe to hear him read and to discuss his work on political economy and communication. After Ruggles travelled to Windsor, with Everton and Witherford we had the Smythes over for supper one December evening and we dreamt awake of a better world in our lifetimes.

After the Zapatistas welcomed the free trade agreement, Everton combined the Green and the Red banners all over the East End of Vancouver, bringing the experiences of La Dignindad [as in organized dignitiy] from the jungles of Chiapas to the jungles of concentrated poverty in Lotus land. I had the pleasure of hearing him think out loud and clear on panels up on the mountain Campus and in political rallies. Others can speak at the wake about the bridge that Everton created between the classroom, the academic conference and the street.

I would like to remind all of you at his wake of two things:

First, of a Rastafarian hymn written by another prophet Bob who also spoke truth to power. A hymn in which Marley wrote: “I would rather be a free man in my grave that to live like a puppet or a slave.” Everton was a living example of progressive ideas turned into direct collective actions with intelligence and dsicipline.

Second, that it was possible to learn about the bridges I mentioned before by watching the way Everton supported his son, surrounding him with information needed to move forward in a difficult time. Those of you there tonight remember that a friend arrives after everyone else has left to continue the work unfinished. The way Everton was a friend to his son should also be an example to us all if our ideas are to have a future in our lifetimes.

Being a teacher is not a means for earning a living, but a way of living and he taught us all.

Santiago

It was with a heavy heart and much sadness that I received the news this past weekend of Bob’s death. Bob was a wonderful man - his commitment and dedication to meaningful social change was an inspiration to all who knew him in any capacity. He always supported the efforts and struggles of new generations of activists, providing advice & concrete support without any hint of condescension. His sudden death is extremely sad and a great loss.

My thoughts over these past days have been of Bob, the many comrades, friends & family he leaves behind, and the movements that gave him inspiration and energy (especially struggles, both past and present, in Latin America).

One of the things I will remember most about Bob is his patience in dealing with disputes within our movements, and his ability to both facilitate discussion as well as to contribute to debates in a way that reminded us of why we were doing the work that we were – I recall many such interventions, within many different coalitions and networks in which he played a leading role supporting and sustaining. In one such instance of a debate over strategy and tactics within movement organizing some years ago, Bob’s emailed intervention reminded us that:

We want to win the hearts and minds of all humanity; of all who have humanity. If that’s what we really want to communicate, we may need to re-think a couple of things.

It’s in our interest to challenge capital and its organizations that are reshaping our world with impunity in efforts to secure even greater profit. It’s in our interest for all concerned to try to touch the humanity of others, even those we are opposed. At least for me, that’s central.

It is that sense of *humanity* that made Bob very special. When thinking of Bob’s life, I am also reminded of the words of environmental/eco activist Tooker Gomberg, who was also taken from us, much too young, earlier this year:

It’s honourable to work to change the world, but do it in balance with other things. Explore and embrace the things you love. Don’t drop hobbies or enjoyments. Be sure to hike and dance and sing. Keeping your spirit alive and healthy is fundamental.

We stand high on the shoulders of giants.

Tony Tracy
Toronto

All I could think of when I heard of Bob’s passing was him standing at the front of the class waving and flailing his arms as he talked about the issues of the week. I saw him shuffling through his stacks of papers at the front of the class as he searched for the perfect example that he just knew he had photocopied before class. I saw him taking a swig from his plastic water bottle as he nodded enthusiastically along with what a student was saying.

Bob taught critical thinking, a skill that many of us students don’t bother to learn even though we are tested everyday. Knowing him has made a difference in the way that I look at my studies and in the way that I look at the world. He taught me that nothing is as it seems and things can be different… the world can be better. He had passion, intelligence and kindness. His wisdom and insightfulness will be with me always.

For all that he has taught me, for all that he has taught us, thank you Bob.

I feel like I have taken so much for granted now that Bob is no longer with us.

I am thankful for Bob’s warmth, his wit, the sparkle in his eye, his ability to connect with so many people and act as one of those individuals who actually builds community with their optimism, while never sacrificing the pessimism of their intellect to do so.

I am thankful for Bob’s support and encouragement as an activist; whenever I worked with him, he was able to bring groups together. He was there as a “builder” of movements, respectful of the varied abilities of those with whom he organized. Bob refused to be jaded.

I am thankful for Bob’s encouragement as a parent; when he recently met my seven-month-old daughter, the sincerity of his wishes and genuine happiness for me stayed with me for days afterwards.

I am thankful that the world my daughter will meet as she grows, despite the challenges she will face, has been changed for the better due to Bob’s dedication and committment to peace and justice.

Thank you Bob.

Bob was a good teacher, and a good person.

When I first met Bob at a community organizing meeting, I was 15 or 16. After chatting for a while, he commented how nice it was to speak to young people who were interested in social justice issues because they’re so energetic and uncynical. I had no idea why I kept hearing this sort of thing from older folks…but true to stereotype, I became more jaded and apathetic as I grew older.
Bob had none of that in him - he was dedicated all the way through.

This September, I came to SFU, and ended up in one of Bob’s classes - and suffice to say, his passionate lectures made me remember that I actually still care, and that I still want to change the world. I wish I could have told Bob that.

I found a lot of what Bob told us in class very distressing, the kind of thing that you wish you hadn’t heard becuse then you wouldn’t have to care. But his course actually made me go home and make a list of the top five pressing issues that I thought I should get involved in again. I had let Bob know that I wanted to get together with him after the semester was done to further discuss some of the things he’d brought up in class. My intention was to sit down and get his thought on what the best ways to get involved and apply my energy would be - I thought he’d have some good insight on htese matters. I was waiting until my grade was finalized, because (after spending my childhood in a very authoritarian, rigid school system) I thought it just wouldn’t be right to become too friendly with one of my professors.
Of course, now I see how silly that was - I dearly wish that I could have benefitted from more of his knowlege and experience - and I especially wish that I’d let him know that his class had inspired me to pull myself out of my slump of political inaction and apathy. We can only hope that wherever Bob is now, he knows that he’s had such a profound impact on students of his, how valuable his work was.

One of my favorite memories of Bob is from years ago, at an anti-FTAA rally/carnival. I was wering these butterfly wings that I’d made (just for fun), and Bob, who I then knew only as one of the faces that were present at so many political gatherings, came up and started chatting. He immediately launched into a detailed explaination of how WTO-enforced trade policies on GMO corn crops was threatening the Monarch Butterfly species. That was pure Bob - you just couldn’t be around him and not learn something new.

Like so many who knew Bob, I felt such grief upon learning of his sudden passing. I didn’t cry because I knew him very well, but beacuse I’d missed the opportunity to get to know him better.
The best teachers remind us that the value of learning is not in merely memorizing information, or even gathering knowlege - the value of any education is in what we are to actually do with it.
Bob, thank you for all you taught us.

On the last day of our class at SFU this fall, Bob imparted to us, his students, the importance of keeping alive whatever few spaces for “freedom of expression” we still have. With so much passion, he asked us to never let go of certain freedoms we’re still enjoying, no matter what.

Don’t worry, Bob. That’s the least we can do to honour your memory.

Thank you very much for touching our lives. May you rest in peace (though I’m sure you’ll still be teaching and organizing in the After Life, if there is such an opportunity. Way to go!).

I met Bob on my first visit to Great Turtle Island in 1997, and again when I passed through Vancouver on subsequent visits from Aotearoa (New Zealand). Bob’s warmth, political commitment, intelligence, humour and humanity struck me, when we were both fighting against APEC. I am shocked and saddened to learn of his death, but, along with many others, remember him as a fine comrade and as someone whose contributions and passion will not be forgotten.
My sympathy to Bob’s family and friends
in solidarity
Aziz Choudry

A gathering of friends and colleagues of Bob’s happened Tuesday, Dec. 21/04 in Windsor, where he recently lived and worked for 2 years. Here is a collection of notes that each of us wrote by candlelight, in a quiet room, meditating on Bob and the many ways he touched our lives. Some of the handwritten notes were not easy to read, so please excuse any mistakes (notes written late in the evening by those who drank several glasses of Shiraz made the transcription job that much harder)…

“I’ve taken some time each day since I found out about Bob’s death to think about him. He was such a lovely man. He loved this world so passionately, and I think it was because of his deep love that he so passionately criticized it, and worked so hard to make it livable (for everyone). I love you, Bob.” -Maya Ruggles

“To Bob, who inspired and supported us, that helped me to develop ideas to make a new world possible. I wish i had more time spent with you, but cherish the time that i did spend with him. He helped me concretize ideas around community, and he has inspired me to continue the work. Love you Bob. The house will still be started and come visit any time. Love, Malinda”

“Bob has been my friend since we first met as grad students at Simon Fraser University in 1988. Although we didn’t actively always stay in touch, I always felt he was a true friend. Someone must have given this mug to Bob that says “A friend is one who comes in when the whole world has gone out". Bob gave Wreford and I this mug after living with us temporarily in Windsor just before returning to B.C. last spring. Having him stay with us during that time was a gift. Bob’s generosity of spirit and commitment to justice was boundless. And, most importantly, he was a wonderful friend. Bob: you are (and always will be) deeply missed.” -Janisse Browning

“Bob changed things. We’ve been talking about Bob a lot lately and the impact he had here in Windsor. He helped a lot of people through his teaching and his activities in the community. He was always there for each of his students and his passion helped them to understand the world around them. He helped me understand the deep connections between people’s struggles and that we were all part of them. Not everyone cares but Bob did. He loved everyone. Without Bob in my life I would have been a different person. I think I was very lucky to know him, even just for a short time.” -name not written

“Donna and I met Bob only during his last year in Windsor. As long-time social activists we felt immediate rapport with him. We got acquainted over a meal at El Mayor and when we parted we felt a deep friendship had been established. Our political consciousness had been profoundly influenced by the tragic ending of Salvador Allende’s contributions to social justice in Chile 1970-73 with the events of that other 9/11 when the US supported the Pinochet coup and the years of brutal oppression which followed. We were overwhelmed to learn from Bob how he was imprisoned in the Stadium and barely managed to escape with his life. We know few people so profoundly committed to the nonviolent struggle for social justice.
We wish we could have had ongoing occasions to work with Bob, and we deeply regret that our University of Windsor could not see fit to affirm and embrace this great loving, caring, highly informed, inspiring person as part of its faculty.
We know he brightened lives wherever he went. When we are tempted to become discouraged by the devastating current course of events, may we recall Bob’s incredible optimism despite his uncommonly profound awareness of the destructive forces at work in our world, and may we renew our commitment to the struggle for a just and peaceful world order.” -Donna and George Crowell

(As part of our gathering, everyone took a stone from a bag of river stones that was given to us (J & W) by Bob before he left Windsor)…
“The river stone from Bob has an eye that jumps out of the stone.
One night amid a cold sky you reached out in your anger and frustration–it was a private moment.
One afternoon amid a warm wind you reached out in your compassion and desire–it was a public moment of the most profound sensitivity.
It was you as teacher and this is how I will remember you Bob. You were and are a teacher–Thank you.” -Garth

“I first met Bob at our home on Pelee Island–I knew immediately he was a man of integrity and good will. After that he spent a week over Christmas with us–cutting wood with Jim and just being a delightful and easy going and giving house guest. Then we travelled to Cuba (Bob, Jim, myself and our son Aidan). Bob was honest, kind, principled and a person I felt a connection with as a friend.
We were all better for knowing Bob–as a translator in Cuba–as a woodcutter on Pelee Island, and as someone who did more than talk the talk…” -Gail Robertson

“Dear, Dear, Dear Bob.
So Solid.
Having known you,
we are forever changed,
inspired,
comforted,
sorrowful,
delighted and privileged.” -Jim Winter

“To Bob,
I had the privilege of being Bob’s student, teaching assistant, friend and comrade. We slept on the floor with dozens of other activists, were tear-gassed and pushed in various directions by the police. Bob was the only teacher I’ve known who would stand alongside his students in this way. He was the only professor who asked us to call him by his first name, Bob…
I can’t express how much I learned from you, I can only thank you and carry on our struggle with (drawing of a heart).” -name not written

“Thank You Bob!!!!
Thank you for your kindness, commitment, and most of all the strength of your example. You are a wonderful human being/soul. I wish I had known you much longer, but am soooo thankful for getting to know you for 2 years.” -Paul

“they took Jara’s hands
but they couldn’t take
his voice
and you had your voice too
cast in those same fires

iron determination
to root out and cast down
this foul fascism you had seen
and all its vile siblings

a voice that could light
that same fire in the belly
that fierce hope
that could kick people out of a talking loop
and right back into organising” -name not written

I knew Bob for merely a semester of his life and mine, but the news of his passing struck me with the grief and pain of an old mentor…
Strange it seems, but not if you knew the man I guess. In the small time I knew him, he stood as a beacon of hope amidst the fog in the minds of University students… Amongst disinterested faces, he never lost his passion, never lost his drive to reach out and try to touch the minds and hearts of the people before him…
He was unapologetic for his fervor and I think that’s what really touched me. Too often in this world are we making excuses, being complacent, questioning but never working to find real solutions. Too often are we discouraged that the system is too big for us to change. But Bob was doing it… One step, one protest, one mind at a time.
A great mind with a big heart, deftly aware of the injustices plaguing our world. He sought to reveal the things we didn’t know and remind us of the things that we did.
That we’re all connected and we all can make a difference.

I’m sure he’ll be missed. I’m glad to have known such a gentle, caring and passionate intellectual.
Rest in Peace Bob.

M. Matsusaka
SFU student

Bob was a fabulous teacher. He brought a lot to the table!!! I will never forget the valuable lessons that he taught. His legacy will always be remembered.

Bob was so decisive in the formation of our group as he has been in the life of every other cause he was part of. His talent and intelligence always anticipated problems we would only see much later. Being close to him we learned practically that justice and equality are not merely ideas for a better world, but involve everything one does and needs to persist in doing beyond exhaustion.

Bob’s convictions were always deeply meditated, although he embraced them spontaneously and relentlessly. For him, as it happens with a few very gifted people, there was no separation between militancy and life. Only people who love so much and so deeply other human beings can sustain under any condition his consistent integrity.

Any sort of injustice, even the smallest, provoked discomfort in him. His response was always the same: resist. From him we learned that dignity is built up in a series of small acts that compose the life of those who, like him, never give up.

It is for us very difficult to think that Bob will no longer be part of our projects. And it is difficult, perhaps, because what we learned from him will stay with us for the rest of our lives. When we remember him we won’t be able to separate his brilliant and well-argumented ideas from his fist raised in the air during a demonstration or his contagious enthusiasm during a meeting or his unperturbed humility: even though his experience could would have been enough to make him an intimidating figure, he was the most perfected incarnation we know of the Zapatista saying “walking, we ask questions.”

This is why we will remember Bob in the present. He will never become somebody we once met, but he will be somebody who is with us, wherever we are part of a struggle for justice. Never, then, more appropriate than to close this letter with Che’s words:

Comrade Bob, till victory, always!

Argentina Autonomista Project
Vancouver Organizing Committee

I’m shocked by Bob’s early departure. Despite predictable manoeuvres to conceal the memories of his life under a piece of cemetery granite, a “compañero” like Bob never dies. It’s too late: he already stroke sensitive nerves of the system, and irreversibly shook minds and souls with his profound and exemplary commitment. That is a fatal combination, intolerable for conservatives as well as for reformists, their most faithful partners.

Hasta la victoria siempre, Bob!

Andrés Dimitriu
Universidad Nacional del Comahue
Río Negro, Argentina

Dear Compañero Bob,
Needless to say how shocked we all are with your early departure. It is a huge loss for our community and the struggle.

I meet Bob when I first arrived in Vancouver around 1997. Bob as always was embarked in the Solidarity Movement, supporting the struggle of the Zapatistas and educating the community about the evils of the “Empire” and the struggles of the peoples in resistance.

I was surprised to know Bob had been teaching in Wallmapu - Chile during Allende’s government. One world, one struggle has always been Bob’s ideology and as a principled and committed fighter for social justice he was and will continue to be an inspiration to us all.

Bob will forever live within our spirits and we will carry his passionate flame within our hearts until Victory and beyond.

Thank you compañero,

The struggle lives on and you will forever be a symbol of commitment and solidarity with the people in struggle for Peace with Social Justice.

Mari Ci Weu, Venceremos!!
Claudio Ekdahl.

I only knew Bob Everton through the Political Media course he taught at SFU this autumn. I signed up at the last minute, and almost dropped the course. I’m glad I didn’t.

My first impression of Bob was of someone enthusiastic and energetic to the point of being wacky. As I continued the course, and talked to him in and out of class, I found he was an intelligent thoughtful man who put great effort into teaching his students. He told me he spent close to an hour each grading 35 class projects, each of which included newspaper and video submissions.

Bob was incredibly personable. Whenever I spoke to him he always had a great big smile. He would greet me by name, and it wasn’t just me: in a class of seventy he would call out the names of students asking questions.

His views were sometimes eccentric, but I realized it was they and his enthusiasm for the subject which gave the class energy. By the end of the course, I had decided I wanted to keep in touch as a friend with a man I had thought was a nutty professor. The day before he died, I sent him an email about a bit of history I thought might be useful for teaching the course in the future. I looked forward to discussing it with him: I would have valued his opinion. Now I know why I never received a reply.

I can see Bob now, as he was at the 2001 demonstration in Quebec City against the Free Trade Area of the Americas: his tall, bearded figure striding towards the notorious fence behind which the political elites sheltered, a red bandana across his face, goggles clamped over his eyes, pulling thick mittens over his hands the better to hurl chemical canisters back at the security forces, vanishing amongst the swirling clouds of tear gas, animated, happy . . . This seems a good way to remember him as he now definitively disappears. With his death goes an indefatigable activist and a living link between the Latin American struggles of the 1970s and the contemporary counter-globalization movement, but also so much else beside; a caring parent; a lover, with many passionate and tumultuous liaisons; an intellectual, advocate of eminently arguable but always engaging ideas; an exuberant and exhaustive talker; a dedicated teacher; a person of that most unusual kind who can in a sudden flash intuitively respond to others’ need and reach across the gap between individuals; a mystic who recognized subtle energies and invisible materialities; a brave man courageously facing mortality as he coped with his damaged heart; a warm and exhilarating physical presence; a friend of the very rarest, and most deeply missed sort. Those of us whose lives were affected by Bob can continue to transmit ‘Bobness’ through our actions, thoughts and communications. A week or so from now I will be in New Delhi, presenting a paper about the young Marx to an international activist-academic conference on “Contested Commons and Public Trespass” in New Delhi, India. That paper will be publicly dedicated to Bob, because he will always incarnate for me Marx’s wonderful revolutionary-romantic description, in the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, of the full, multi-dimensional passionate human “species-being":

“a corporeal, living, real, sensuous, objective being, full of natural vigor, real corporeal man, man with his feet firmly on the solid ground, man exhaling and inhaling all the forces of nature . . . an objective, sensuous being and therefore a suffering being and because he feels what he suffers, a passionate being. Passion is the essential force of man energetically bent on its object.”

In commemoration of Bob, a raised fist, a loving embrace, and a silent meditation,

Nick Dyer-Witheford

Bob’s skillful combination of militancy, compassion, and hope was - and is - nothing short of legendary. His was a difference worthy of repetition. And if a measure of one life is the effect it produces on others, then Bob’s was a most wondrous existence, amplifying the forces of life whenever possible. Like so many others, I will remember Bob as a radical teacher and activist. I had the good fortune of being a teaching assistant for Bob early on in my studies at his alma mater, the School of Communication at SFU. Given that he for so long lived the precarious life of a sessional instructor, it is hardly surprising that he instilled in me a critical sense of the labour of graduate students. While TA’ing for him, I had the pleasure of bearing witness to Bob’s tireless effort to pry open space in the university for radical pedagogy. I remember undergraduate students in that course referring to him as Bob “smash-the-state” Everton: it was clear that what Bob offered students – and he taught hundreds over the years – was an inspiring example of fearless speech, and of what it means to take sides. Others have spoken here in this memorial of Bob’s other activisms, and I too will remember his blue-painted face, shouting, in protest against the privatization of Vancouver’s water facility, “Water! It’s the source of life!” Life – what constrained it, what had to be done to expand it. That to me is what Bob understood so well. And it is that defiant but affirmative ethos that I for one will strive to take as the everlasting lesson of Bob, a radical teacher.

greig de peuter
toronto

Bob was always an amazing ally in countless large stupid (and often not-so-stupid, but quite stressfull) meetings i attended in Vancouver. He always said what I meant or felt better than I could - but then made me feel like I said it, not him, when discussed over beer later.

I Havn’t seen as much of him since he moved back to town, because I’m busy with family, but he always had a smile, a hug, and a warm word when I did see him.

I think Bob gave the best, sincerest, firmest hugs of any man I’ve hugged on “the left", and they will be missed.

Bob always reminded me of a’larger-than life’ individual whose exuberant enthusiasm, energy and cheer infected those around him. Whenever I met Bob we would in a few second have covered the latest atrocity. uncovered the wit in the situation and had a great laugh. What a great teacher, he could keep one forward looking instead of getting buried in the present.Thank you Bob.

Elsie Dean

But they are all I have.

Bob.
I could start by talking about when I first remember him: keeping a fight between factions in an “international of hope” meeting from going to pot. That was so typical of Bob. He would not let others squabble while the revolution needed to be fought.

I could continue, many projects, and, eventually, a few totally useless nights; useless in the sense that no one could actually measure them, but far from useless if you asked me.

His spirit was constant defiance. No one could tell him the revolution was coming any time other than, like, the day after tomorrow.

I don’t fel this can do Bob justice; I am afraid of how I may not use the words to tell him this properly. I expect him to tell me “it’s okay", with that little tug on the shoulder anyhow.

I want to be mad at him. How could he do this? Now?

Everton is needed more than ever.

But somehow, someone else who lived a life as rich as his, who had made as many of these choices as he, who had the same love and respect for the youth will come along. That’s the way the revolution works, he would tell us. It’s coming sooner than you think.

But whoever comes along now will not be Bob. And that will only be understood by those of us who had the great fortune of having Bob show up when we needed it– personally, politically or just for another hug that day.

venceremos, Bob;
no one tought that better than you.

Bob was not in Windsor for very long, but he touched the lives of all who he met here. I had a profound respect and admiration for him that remains with his passing. He will be missed.

I will miss Bob; unfortunately, I never really got to know him as a friend, but he was a comrade with a heart of gold that always took the time to show interest in you and what you were doing. Bob was always genuine and never pretentious. I saw how he was loved by many of the people I care about.

I’ll never forget the first time I met Bob: it was almost two years to the day of his (extremely untimely) passing. I was standing on Maryann & Eric’s porch with all the smokers during one of their frequent parties when Chris gave a big hug to a man wearing a white sweater with a Palestinian-style scarf. Then he said “I would like to introduce you to one of my dearest comrades, Bob Everton!” Bob then proceded to hug numerous people, including me which I didn’t mind as the warmth and caring felt real. Bob and I spoke briefly and he told me he had just returned from teaching in Windsor, a real hell hole of a place (or so I’ve been told by people who have lived/are living there). I asked him how he liked it and he said “Didn’t like the city, but I liked the people.” This to me is the quintesential Bob: making friends everywhere he went.

Comrade Bob, Presente!

With Great Respect, Affection and Admiration,

–Calvin

it is with great sadness that i write for this memorial site about the death of bob everton. his life spent as a radical and educator, he was a cornerstone of the vancouver activist community and i’m sure his death will impact people strongly, just as his life did.

there is a tremendous loss in my heart knowing that bob is no longer there as my friend and confidante, for he is someone who helped me through some of my darkest times, providing me with compassion and support and healing energy when my struggles were the greatest. many a bottle of wine we drank on the balcony of my last apartment in vancouver, watching the people go by as he promised me that revolution was just around the corner. bob had a way of making you believe in your work as an activist, and that we would all live to see societal transformation on a grand scale - it was only a matter of years.

he believed that for most of his life i suspect - and as far as i can tell he never wavered in the face of the brutality our system brought to bear on himself and others.

a conversation i had with him last year keeps coming back to me today because it brings me some comfort…. those of you who know bob, know that he was in chile during the 1973 coup by pinochet’s forces, and had been working there as a leftist activist for some time. as a result of his efforts, he was arrested and taken to one of the stadiums where leftist-sympathizers were being detained, interviewed and then shot (in one of the stadiums there was a wholesale massacre of thousands of people at one time - bob was in a different location than this). bob and his compatriots were held there for 10 long days, awaiting their fate which they were certain would be death - after an interview with the generals trying to get further information on people to round up from the persecuted women and men of the democracy movement.

at the end of the 10 days, marked by plots to escape and frightening treatment and threats, the canadian government intervened under some pressure from activists in the country and bob was allowed to leave the makeshift prison.

last year was the 30th anniversary of those events, and during that week bob came over to my house and we drank a bottle of wine while i asked him questions about what that had been like for him, how it was to walk free when so many people he know were murdered by the chilean fascists. what he told me then was this: (paraphrased)

“i never expected to walk out of that stadium alive, when they finally did release me i kept expecting to be shot on the street or re-arrested. because i never expected to live beyond those days, i have viewed every day since then as a gift - time to be spent in the struggle and in having a life worth living”

those thirty-one intervening years since bob was released from the chilean stadium were not only a gift of time for him - but for everyone who knew and worked with him in that time. his energy for organizing up until his last days was infinite and beyond his activism - he was a solid friend who was there for those who he loved.

i only got to know bob well in the last two years (though knew him peripherally for years before that) - and i feel very privileged to have spent the time i had with him. i am still shocked that he is gone from my life, and the life of my community - and so sorrowful that i will never share a bottle of red wine and a talk with him again.

megan adam
megan@resist.ca