O Captain, My Captain

My doctoral advisor, mentor, and friend was in a fatal bike accident a couple of days ago. I will miss him deeply: his open heart, his great listening and questioning, his faith in me, his generosity and curiosity and warmth. He was a dear man, a gem. 

Thank you, Fred.  I couldn't have asked for a better guide through academics, psychology (and life). It's not going to be the same without you.  I kind of don't want to do it anymore if you're not going to be there, too.

If your actions inspire others to dream more,
learn more,
do more and
become more,
you are a leader.
~John Quincy Adams

(p.s. Picture and quote borrowed from friends who also studied with Fred. He leaves many many people better for knowing him.) 

On the shifting of family plate tectonics

When I got home from the dropoff trip, I opened Lauren's door and sighed at its emptiness. She pretty much packed up everything and cleared the room out, partly because it needed to be that thoroughly cleaned (she's an accumulator, that girl) and partly because bedroom space is at such a premium around here that we might need to use it for other uses when she's gone.

Later in the day, G said "oh, you opened her door! I've kept it shut because it's too hard to see it so empty and Laurenless."

We realized, G and I, that part of our melancholy is because we are both oldest children in our families. We've never been the person left behind before! We did the moving out, intoxicated with new freedom and forward momentum and oblivious to the shifts in the family plate tectonics we left behind.  I have a new appreciation for those youngest children in families, who say goodbye and adjust, goodbye and adjust, goodbye and adjust, bearing witness to the dwindling resident family numbers and the countdown to an empty nest. 

So I want to apologize, these decades later, to my youngest brother. Sorry, Chris.  Being left behind kind of stinks.

That's not to say what we have right now, with the four of us, isn't wonderful. It is, and all the sweeter for realizing how quickly the time will fly until we will say goodbye and adjust, goodbye and adjust, again. We've shifted our places at the dining table to be more cozy. Maddy and Sam get along famously and seem to be closer than ever: friends as well as sibs. We text and call Lauren like crazy and love to hear about her life and update her on ours. For instance, Maddy is in the throes of watching the disgusting driver's ed movies and Sam is rereading the summer book assignment for 8th grade for good measure and learning Somewhere Over the Rainbow on the ukelele.  Life is good. We're adjusting and shifting.

. . .

FYI, Lauren has started a blog of her college days. Email me if you'd like to know where to find it...I asked and she's fine with us living vicariously through her. :)

The nibble of reality

Oy, I received an email from my advisor this afternoon. When I saw her name in my inbox I had a little adrenaline rush. Or some might call it a wee panic attack. You see, I've been working steadily on my papers and qualifying review portfolio this summer. Steadily but not speedily. I had a deadline of September 14th and, you know, that's miles of time. Acres, at least.  However, my advisor was emailing to let me know that my committee needs my materials two weeks in advance to review them before the meeting on September 14th, meaning my deadline is now next week.

Reality isn't quite biting yet (that will be next week!) but it certainly is nibbling about the edges today. So I'm going public with my intention to dedicate several hours a day, preferably early in the morning, from here on out.

But first I had to write this post. Priorities, you know. 

. . .

p.s. This morning after getting a haircut in Boston, I took Sam (Maddy's in an intensive driver's ed class all week) to the Harvard Museum of Natural History as a reward for coming along to the salon. He liked the duck-billed platypus and the whales suspended from the ceiling.  I loved the butterflies and glass flowers. Maybe I'm just getting adept at avoiding everything that can nibble or bite. 

My flight saga

Let's play a little game of good news/bad news, shall we?

My plane flight home last night was long and late, scheduled to land at 1:30 a.m. after a four hour layover in Las Vegas: bad news.

I got one of the first boarding positions for the flight on Southwest: good news.

I chose the very front aisle seat with all that leg room, a boon for the long flight: good news!

It was a completely full flight: bad news.

After everyone got on, I still had the middle seat next to me empty: good news!

Then a standby guy got on: bad news.

He was a huge guy who had been sitting by the bathroom at the gate and I had mistaken him for a homeless man: bad news.

My judginess: also bad news.

He wedged himself in the seat between another woman and me and spread out his feet at 10 and 2 o'clock, with an astonishingly bad smell emanating from him: bad news.

He evidently (according to my olfactory) wore some kind of diaper that was already soiled: oh so bad news.

I wanted to get over it and be gracious; he couldn't really help it at this point and I kept having "inasmuch as you do it to the least of these" thoughts: good news.

But I really had a tough time doing that, what with the squishedness and eye-stinging stinkiness: bad news. 

He fell asleep for much of the flight, ending any efforts he was making to stay contained: bad news.

Anyway, I found some helpful distractions along the way:

1. 

The Hour, a new series on BBC America that started this week. I downloaded it for the plane trip home and I'm hooked. It's centered around launching a news broadcast in the late 50s, with spy and conspiracy thriller elements thrown in there, too.  Plus, you can't go wrong with Ben Winshaw (Bright Star) and BBC/Masterpiece Theatre darling Romola Garai (Emma and others).   This clip is kind of weird but at least it gives you a taste:

2. Are you missing Downton Abbey? If so, Kate Morton's The House at Riverton is good for what ails you. A very Downton-esque family saga in early 19th century England and a fun read that I finished just before arriving at the blessed Manchester, NH, airport.

3. Burt's Bee's lip balm is so minty and delicious smelling.  I reapplied several times. Maybe dozens.

4. Peppermint gum. Yes, please.

5. Commiserating glances with my seatmate on the opposite side, by the window.  She got angry with the guy at the end of the flight, woke him up and said "I can't take it anymore! I can't breathe and you are too heavy leaning on me. Wake up and move!" He kind of nodded at her and dozed off again. So she did it two more times. 

6. Knowing I would have a story to tell.  

Oh, my, that was my worst flight experience ever, including the time when baby Lauren had some kind of reaction to dimetapp before a flight (bad mom move) and it wired her to 1000% capacity for the entire journey, kicking and laughing and whooping and bouncing across the country. Give me a squirmy baby anyday. At least I can change their diapers.

Oh, dear. To reiterate, my judginess and anemic compassion: bad news. 

Lucky timing

Happily, I was able to attend our niece's (G's sister's daughter) wedding this weekend while I was in the west dropping off Miss L at college. I felt a little guilty being the only lucky one to attend from the Boston branch of the family but I was happy to represent; I really do love my in-laws. Speaking of lucky, the happy couple is moving to Hawaii tomorrow. Talk about an extended honeymoon, right?!