Last night I attended a memorial screening for Helen Hill, experimental animator/film maker/teacher/humanitarium. A couple of weekends ago, in New Orleans, she was shot, her husband, a doctor who had a clinic for the poor was wounded, when thugs broke into their house. Senseless? Is there any other kind? At the screening I was talking to all the people there who had known Helen, her joy and happiness, her willingness to teach, her causes in support of the poor, all the lives she touched. I never met Helen but through the people that she knew, and touched with her compassion, I felt... I don't quite know what I felt. A light was taken away, but, they say you are never dead if you're never forgotten. She will never be forgotten.