DeForest Kelley passed away in 1999. Still, every year, faithfully, Trek fans and western fans turn out in droves to extol the man’s virtues, excellence as an actor, and supreme wonderfulness as a human being, as well they should.

The main reason I wrote DeForest Kelley Up Close and Personal, A Harvest of Memories from the Fan Who Knew Him Best, was to confirm fans’ suspicions/hope/intuitions that De was the full meal deal–a genuinely great guy who was as down to earth as can be… easy to love, easy to feel safe with, easy on the eyes, the heart and the soul.

Very few people exude what DeForest Kelley did.  When you were in his presence, you felt beloved. You felt understood, honored and respected.  You felt you were with a family member who “got” you and loved you without limit despite any “faults” or feelings of “not measuring up” you harbored.  You felt seen, appreciated, and celebrated. You felt reassured.  You felt you were in the presence of a person who wasn’t going to judge you.  And you were right.

No one ever had a bad word to say about De. His co-stars adored him. His friends adored him. His relatives adored him. You don’t see that across the board with a lot of people. A lot of people like to find flaws, chinks in armor, ways to keep someone else from up-staging them by minimizing their value, worth or contributions. No one ever wanted to do that with De, because he never did it to them.  He was always looking on the bright side–on the right side–of people. He knew that the pains-in-the-neck were wounded folks who needed healing; he wasn’t about to abandon them because they were crusty, inappropriate, or in some other way “acting out”.   Whether it was his upbringing as the son of a Baptist minister or (more likely) the enduring, endearing influence of his gentle, supportive mother, he “got” what is meant by “not casting the first stone.”  “There but for the grace of God…” was probably often in his heart.

He didn’t walk on water. He wasn’t perfect. But he was perfect for a lot of us.  He met our needs as fans, friends and family, always with a smile.  He loved us and wasn’t shy about proving it.  He didn’t have to do conventions; he had plenty of jingle in his jeans; he didn’t need the money.  He needed to commune with his friends, with his fans.  He wanted to. It wasn’t a job. It was his joy.

And those of us lucky enough to partake are, to this day, richer for it.

God bless you, De.  I wish you were still here–I hope you’re looking down–to see how much your fans still love you and how fondly they remember you with both joy and tears.  We miss you!