Buck Rogers actor's cosmic final message

Three months have passed since I first intended to make this post but never got round to writing it. Well, here it is, delayed but still relevant and poignant.

Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was a TV serial that ran from 1979 to 1981.

Its main star was Gil Gerard, who played the role of a cocky astronaut who'd been frozen in suspended animation since the year 1987 until he thawed out and returned to a very changed planet Earth. 

Anyone who grew up watching this television series, which came during the Star Wars-led science fiction renaissance of the late 1970s and early 1980s, will know how delightful the show was in terms of special effects not previously seen on TV, and its mostly playful story lines. 

Gerard was a perfect fit for the lead role, although he had his own reservations about the consistently non-serious side of his character's personality.

Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was a reflection of its time; providing light-hearted escapism that easily slotted into the weekly TV schedule. Fresh-faced Gerard became an instantly recognisable hero bringing some of the glamour of cinema's blockbuster science fiction genre to the small screen. Indeed, the extended pilot episode was released initially on the big screen, and I recall seeing it first at the cinema.

The aesthetic of Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was pleasing to the eye - from the clean sets to the futuristic uniforms and non-stereotypical robots and computers, which made the show feel fresh.

I remember watching Buck Rogers as a youngster when I'd seek out any science fiction in the vein of Star Wars and the earlier TV show Space:1999. In formative years, while growing up, certain shows and actors feel as though they are part of our lives, and remain so even when the memory of them is far in the past. Often it is only when we hear of the passing of one of the main stars that we stop and reflect on what they meant to our younger selves.

And so it was for me when I heard the news of Gil Gerard's passing a week or so before Christmas last year. 

But I was also cheered to read his final message to his fans, which was posted on his Facebook account by his wife Janet. In it Gerard gave a heartfelt thanks for opportunities he'd had in life, for the people he'd met and for the love he'd given and received. He encouraged others not to waste time on anything that does not thrill them or bring love. And, in his final parting words, in true Buck Rogers style, said he'd one day meet us out somewhere in the cosmos.
It leaves a picture in my mind of the youthful Gerard, invariably as Buck Rogers circa 1979-1981, in space and untouched by the march of time, waiting to continue that connection first felt watching his exploits on TV.

Gil Gerard died on December 16, 2025 from a rare and aggressive cancer. He was 82.

Here is Gil Gerard's Facebook message, posted by his wife Janet the day after he died:

If you are reading this, then Janet has posted it as I asked her to.

My life has been an amazing journey. The opportunities I’ve had, the people I’ve met and the love I have given and received have made my 82 years on the planet deeply satisfying.

My journey has taken me from Arkansas to New York to Los Angeles, and finally, to my home in North Georgia with my amazing wife, Janet, of 18 years. It’s been a great ride, but inevitably one that comes to a close as mine has.

Don’t waste your time on anything that doesn’t thrill you or bring you love. See you out somewhere in the cosmos.

An oasis during the pandemic

Up here nothing matters. With only time, nature and wind, things become transcendent.

On Lamentation Hill I feel a longing. The breeze carries small, floating seeds - a foreshadowing of autumn. Trees tall and proud have grown here all the time that elsewhere I have lived and grown. They are markers of time - of the years passaging through our lives.

A granite rock, embedded with delicately glistening quartz in the full glory of the sun as it breaks clear from drifting clouds, provides a resting spot.

From this warm oasis the forest, the braes and higher hills frame the horizon. A gentle wind, a mellow hum through branches of bush and tree, keeps insects at bay. A bird chirps.

I give thanks for years come and gone, that slipped by with the same almost unnoticeable movement of the world turning, or the clouds that drift west to east.

Thoughts shift to people and places I have known. Where are they now? If we were to meet again, what conversations might we share about how our lives turned out, and how far off shared times meant something always to be remembered?

The sun blinks out, obscured by a grey cloud. The warmth fades, the perfume of the heather is gone. It is time to move on.

Measuring the march of time's footsteps

Twenty-five years ago: city lights from a viewpoint

Is it really 25 years since we lived and studied together beneath blue skies and crimson and mauve sunsets?

Is it a quarter of a century since we shared those concrete sidewalks, bus journeys to college, visits to the beach, to hangouts, and to viewpoints overlooking the twinkling lights of a city sprawled across two valleys?

Twenty-five summers have come and gone, and 25 autumns, winters and springs, since our tight-knit group, transplanted to a foreign land, shared a bond that would stay with us for ever.

Though we have gone our separate ways, and not all of us are here today, those sweetest days live on in our thoughts. And in the memory of the world, for I am sure it has such.

Time passes, yes. But stretched across 25 years, the march of its footsteps are so far apart we do not always hear them until we stop and listen.

A plane soars, its tail fin livery redesigned from a quarter of a century ago, like all the others; generational changes an echo of time's deep footsteps.

And so, 25 summers, autumns, winters and springs have passed.

Who would not yearn to do it all again? But to have done it once is a treasure indeed.

Giving thanks to old friends

This is one of my favourite college days photographs. It was taken 19 years ago at LA Pierce College and shows myself and nine fellow students from England's Barnsley College who studied at the California institution for a semester.

I came across it today. It was one of the images I scanned from an old negative. For an hour or so I worked my way through a dozen negatives, turning them into digital files. I was doing this both for prosperity and to make it easier to save them in places where they will, hopefully, never be lost.

So it was saving history in a way, although more a personal history than anything of historic value to the wider world. But important to me.

These old pictures remind me of the younger version of myself, and of those I shared those far-flung days with. We were a tight-knit group. We studied at Barnsley College and so knew one another from classes there and from socialising. When we were chosen as the group of ten to pioneer a link-up with the Los Angeles college, we became closer still. Our lodgings were two adjacent apartments at a nearby university complex, so in a way it was our own mini-fraternity set-up, or as close as ten UK students would ever get to one.

This picture was taken on the football field at the college, and we are smiling and relaxed. That's what I like most. It instantly brings back emotions and feelings from that day, and from those months under the California sun.

I believe I may have said this before, but when I gaze upon these pictures I am overcome by a desire to be able to step into them and live the moment again. Or to be a casual observer walking up to the group to meet them.

Would it be that time could twist or rabbit-hole in such a way to make that possible. A flight of fancy, I know.

I look upon the younger me, and the younger others, and I consider myself fortunate to have experienced those moments.

Time moves quickly and it can be all too easy to forget to stop and appreciate what we have here and now. Then, one day, we end up looking at pictures that are 19 years old and only then truly appreciate those friendships and experiences. Life is, indeed, what happens to you while you are busy making other plans.

As I look at my college friends I remember Beryl, who is no longer here, and I honour her endearing friendship. To the others, I wish them well wherever they are.

Take the time today to look around at all that you are doing, and all the friends in your life and give thanks. For before you know it they will be fondly recalled images in the scrapbook of your life.

Listen. Time Passes. Listen

The winds of change are blowing this evening. The actual wind I hear is the farthest fringes of the monster hurricane Sandy, which even at 500 miles distance is making its presence felt.

The 'winds of change', on the other hand, have been making their presence felt for some time. At work I have seen some long-standing colleagues leave, and soon another will be departing - the editor.

Nothing stays the same forever. As the years have flown I've witnessed good people move through the 'in-and-out door' of my life. There's always some sadness when they leave, particularly now that I've experienced enough of life to know that most will now be gone from my life and exist only as memories.

I've looked back on the past 30 years through old photographs and been reminded of the many friends, colleagues and acquaintances that have brightened my days but now exist only as faces in old pictures or recollections from passed chapters in my life.

It serves as a reminder that today's joys and tribulations will one day be another past chapter to look back on. Many of the friends and colleagues I know now will join the faces shining in my mind's eye once in a while on dusky evenings as I sit and recall life's journey.

Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans. Appreciate those who are in your life this moment. Appreciate what your life is today, in all its intricate details and nuances, for these will one day be the days you yearn to revisit and re-experience.

Listen. Time passes. Listen.