I woke this morning to learn of the death of Sam Day. When I read the news, a little bit of my heart broke too. Sam was the dearest, loveliest, person. He always listened to you - I thought of the e e cummings poem:

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

Scorning the pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain ...

I think Sam was a father to us all.

As a supporter of anti-nuclear work, I have only known him a short time compared with US resisters, but I know he was untiring, unflagging and gave us all hope. When we sat and talked together, he and Felice and myself, in London last spring, he made me feel it was all worthwhile. We should keep on with the resistance work.

His enthusiasm for sight-seeing, his great warm heart that could care about the memorial for those who had given their lives for others; his enormous hard work and dedication to all the anti-nuclear work, but particularly the Vanunu campaign.

And in his memory the work must continue. You cannot die, Sam, - here's a salute from Britain. I'll drink a 'warm beer' tonight, shed some tears and try to turn my mind to more campaigning for peace and social justice. I am sure that is what Sam would want.

In love and peace,