M, #39116, b. circa 1973, d. 12 October 2002
|Birth*||circa 1973||Clint Thompson was born circa 1973 at Leeton, New South Wales; Mother = Sandra THOMPSON (Nee ??)|
|Residence*||from 1973 to 1992||He lived from 1973 to 1992 at Dubbo, New South Wales.|
|Residence||between 1992 and 2002||He lived between 1992 and 2002 at Sydney, New South Wales.|
|Occupation*||2002||He was Property Manager, Account Executive Poperty Manager - Elizabeth Bay (Sydney) Apartment|
Account Manager - Beringer Blass Wine Estate in 2002.
|Death*||12 October 2002||He died on 12 October 2002; Died at the Sari Club, BALI Obituary|
From website = http://www.smh.com.au/cgi-bin/common/popupPrintArticle.pl?path=/articles/2002/11/28/1038386250283.html
November 28 2002
Clint was my son. I have buried him in his home town of Leeton. I am still in shock that the thing a parent dreads the most has happened I have buried my baby. This is not how it is supposed to be. We cry daily, some one has taken our boy for no reason. I know that he is with God, he has told me Im alright Mum. But Im not I want him home. Thank you Australia for your love and prayers please dont stop praying for all of the families.
The Night Superman Died
I often drop into my local bottle-oh in the main street if I need to buy a bottle of wine.
For no other reason than its simply convenient, I suppose. There's nothing flash about the place, but they have a well-stocked range and the prices are OK. They probably do a reasonably good business. But, let's face it, it IS the Cross after all.
It was here that I first met Superman.
From the start, there was something strangely familiar about this man. Perhaps it was his obvious case with people, or cheeky comments to the girls (mostly travellers) heading off to nearby restaurants. You know the feeling. The metaphorical rubbing of your chin and imaginary wagging of the finger where you try to think where it was you'd previously met.
He had an assured confidence not only in himself, but also of his product borne out of industry experience I was to later find out.
Recently, I had reconnected with a friend from high school, from some thirty years back. She'd said that my black-framed spectacles reminded her of Clark Kent. Or possibly, we laughed, Superman. So, it was this comment, and my penchant for a practical joke that prompted me to ask my superhero of the Cross where he had bought his T-shirt. Yes, the deep blue one with the familiar ``S'' stretched over his muscular chest. I thought the next time I caught up with my Lois Lane, I'd peel my shirt apart and bring it on just for a laugh. I was a little disappointed some days later to find out they were now sold out ``maybe more in the future'' warbled the salesman.
Last Thursday night on my 2nd day of leave from work, I walked in and this we struck up a longer conversations. He too, looked at me again with bemused familiarity. Where did he grow up I asked? Leeton. Did I work out he said? No, I laughed not since last century. So, we had to agree that it just one of those things. What's your name? Clint. Good to talk with you, Clint.
The next day superman flew out of Sydney for a holiday in Bali. No wonder he'd been so relaxed. A holiday with mates was on his mind. And sadly, even this superman couldn't survive that moment the next night when the act of someone alone, or in concert as will ultimately be revealed was to shatter the lives of his and other innocent lives simply because they were being human.
I now know that Clint Thompson will never again sell me a bottle of wine with that signature end-to-end flip, catching it without a moment's doubt in his practised hand. I also know that Clint Thompson relateable, inspirational and affable will long be remembered by myself and others who are close to him.
He did look familiar. I now know who Clint Thompson is.
This story was found at: http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2002/11/28/1038386250283.html.