I do not have the words right now to do this right. I have always felt that to mark someone's passing one should celebrate the life led and not wail and wallow over the fact they've died. So, I'll just recount my first encounter with Mr. Harryhausen and his particular brand of movie magic when I caught a matinee of Jason and the Argonauts back in the early 1970's, around the age of five.
Already enchanted and mesmerized by what I had seen, I clearly remember the climax, when the Children of the Hydra (the skeleton army) first broke out of the ground and assembled, I had edged so far forward in my seat, pulled along as gravity asserted itself on my lower jaw, I almost toppled over into the row ahead of us. Since then, I've seen the Earth repel a flying saucer attack, watched a bunch of cowboys trying to rope a dinosaur, aquatic monstrosities running amok, dragons, cyclops, and got a bad case of the drizzles over a spooky encounter with a particular gorgon. Memories I will cherish forever, certainly, and for them, and all my like minded brethren, though it hardly seems adequate, I'd just like to say thanks.