The poet and playwright turned reluctant politician, whose stirring words ignited the embers of opposition to decades of oppressive Soviet rule in Czechoslovakia, culminating in the "Velvet Revolution" in 1989 as communism collapsed across Europe, has died at the age of 75.
Because my mother is of Czech heritage, I have always taken a special interest in what's going on in her ancestral home. I was particularly delighted when the Czechs finally shed the crippling yoke of Communism, and loved my time in Prague while overseas visiting my childhood friend Andy Colglazier in the autumn of 1992.
The writer in me was thrilled when the still-Communist Czech parliament elected Havel president in 1989, even though he was not really a politician. He gave voice to freedom in Czechoslovakia, though, and his words rallied thousands - so he was the natural choice.
He was nominated several times for the Nobel Peace Prize, and earned numerous other accolades as well. One of them was the Philadelphia Liberty Medal.
I was in Philadelphia on July 4, 1994, with my friend Tammi, when Havel came to the city to receive the medal. We happened to be sight-seeing in the area when we came across the throng that surrounded Independence Hall, where Havel was about to depart after having accepted the honor and delivering an acceptance speech.
Maybe it was the journalist in me, but I instinctively worked my way to the front of the crowd, which was being kept at a healthy distance from the door - and the dignitaries - by grim-faced security.
As Havel emerged from the door, I immediately recognized him from pictures I had seen. I snapped a few quick, blurry photos. Then - and I'm still not sure what compelled me to do it - I yelled a greeting in Czech. Mind you, I know very little Bohemian - picked up from Mom when I was young - though I can read the language well enough that folks in Prague mistakenly thought I was fluent.
Havel apparently wasn't expecting to hear his native tongue shouted from the crowd. He glanced my way, almost startled, and hesitated. For a moment, I thought he might break away and come over to talk to me.
It was a thought that both pleased and petrified me. As I mentioned earlier, I know precious little Czech. But he continued to the waiting limousine and was whisked away.
It is one of my enduring memories of that trip to Philadelphia, New York and Gettysburg in the sultry summer of 1994.
Havel goes to his final resting place a hero in the Czech Republic. Voices of freedom always resonate, regardless of the language or the era.
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