poetry linkvideo linkmonk fun page linkemail me

Kamel memoriam

Article: 'Monk' actor Stanley Kamel dead at 65

"Stanley Kamel's consumate talent and professionalism was only surpassed by his warmth, humor and generosity of spirit. I will miss him terribly." — Tony Shalhoub

Light a candle for Stanley Kamel

If you would like to make a donation, a memorial fund for Stanley Kamel has been set up with Cedars Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. All donations will go to atherosclerosis research. You can mail your donation to:

Cedars Sinai Medical Center
8700 Beverly Blvd #2416
Los Angeles, CA 90048

In Memory of Stanley Kamel

or call 877-427-2443 to donate by credit card.

You can also donate by credit card online.

"It's one thing to work a long time as an actor...for which I am, of course grateful....To get to play a character as wonderful as Dr. Charles Kroger... as I've said before... one of the great JOYS of my career. But to have you guys GET IT...to get what I'm trying to do...to get the essence of the whole Kroger-Monk relationship... makes it all so cool... can't tell you fully, how much THAT means to me."
—Stanley Kamel to his fans, 2006.

USA Network Message Board Tribute Thread

Six Feet Under
Stanley Kamel as "Death" in Six Feet Under

Stanley 2
Stanley Autographed
Kamel 6

Variety Ad
Tribute ad placed in the Daily Variety by the Cast and Crew of Monk, April 15th 2008


Elegy for Stanley Kamel
by Barb (Bflogal)

Two great men have passed
The day Stanley Kamel died.
He is sorely missed.

The actor we've loved
On our screens for many years
Is no more with us.

The good doctor too--
His lonely chair will haunt us.
Monk won't be the same.

A day doubly sad:
When one shared heart stops beating
Two great men are gone.

Dr. Kroger's Haiku Blues
by Aldeberan

He can't help some days
but to dream an island calm
and unreachable...

No phone, no dock--a
clear dome to the skies to stop
those parachute tries.

No waiting room, no
magazines, no clashes of
organizing schemes.

No date prescriptions,
overdoses, phobias
or new neuroses.

No showtunes, and no
more cleaning. No drinking apes'
orange juice leavings.

For sure no double
sessions, no interruption
of tennis lessons.

And no more earthquake
trauma; no more finding new
assistant drama.

No granola theft
accusation, and no dis-

No retainer, no
twenty-four/seven, just a
calm, quiet heaven...

A peaceful island
life, with son, daughter and the
soon-to-be new wife.

No more Adrian...
no more clues, threshhold events
so long overdue?

No cases closed, no
detection--Monk's life one of
sad introspection.

No life rebuilt, no
insight to share, no search for
joy from pure despair.

And no justice for
Trudy, no closure found, Monk's
tears his only sound.

A broken man by
a grave's grassy slope, no peace,
and no chance for hope...

A hearfelt sigh, his
purpose clear--the island must
wait another year.

He opens his eyes,
meets Adrian's gaze and the
dream isle melts away.

He takes a deep breath,
begins again--session on,
may the best man win.

But still on some days,
that dream island beckons, calm
and unreachable...

Inspired by "Big Reward"


Dr. Kroger Haiku
bi innardamok (Tom M.)

One speaks. One listens.
Diametrically opposed,
yet in harmony ...

Charles Remembers
by Aldeberan

He first came to me
pale, thin, hands and face scrubbed raw—
sleepless, haunted, lost.

Much, much worse than I
had envisioned, during long
sessions on the phone.

It was Sharona
who was able to coax him
out into the world,

where, after a stop
at his wife’s grave, he came to
see me face to face.

Before me stood a
shadow, cast by Trudy’s light—
Trudy, who was gone.

Sharona said he
was better, stronger than when
she first came to him,

yet it took an hour
for him to let Sharona
leave, tears in his eyes.

He’d only stay if
she would wait in the courtyard
where he could see her.

Another hour for
him to speak, despite all we
had shared on the phone.

His eyes never left
Sharona. Slowly, tear choked,
he began to talk,

seeking a way to
express a grief so vast it
had swallowed him whole.

Trudy’s love brought him
life, was balm for the stray wounds
of his existence.

The job had given
him purpose before her and
now that, too, was lost.

It is said that time
heals all wounds. True for most—but
not for Adrian.

Not for a man with
a perfect memory that
time does not alter.

Most don’t understand
that his grief now is as sharp
as the day she died.

He spoke until dark.
Behind glass walls, Sharona
waited, his beacon.

Return promised, they’d
left, her arm about him as
he bent with despair.

I never feared for
his life. Intent on solving
the case, he’d survive.

Duty holds him to
this life like gravity, a
bond he will not break.

I worried then as
I do now—about his life
when the case is solved.

Will he learn to live?
To cope, to allow change in
his world, unafraid

of displacing his
own perfect memory of
the perfect woman?

Will he learn he can
hold her close in his heart, with
room for another?

Then, as now, I knew
my work would be to help him
find reason to live,

a reason beyond
justice, revenge, closure—those
things which drive him now.

Time won’t heal him. He
and I together must do
the work, the process

as unique as the
man himself. I have faith that
we will find his way

back to life, past pain
to sometime joy, a reason
to be Adrian.

..........for Skye

A tribute to Stanley Kamel by Metacomet


A tribute to Stanley Kamel by Ariana


Kamel Sketch
Stanley Kamel sketch by Olivia

graphics by