Spring has sprung...

...the grass has riz; I wonder where the flowers is?

As the old saying goes. Well, actually the flowers are out, albeit probably a bit confused at times with the wild weather swings!

Due to FCPS eligibility rules, Katie was one of the oldest members of her cohort (cutoff was 9/30 and her birthday was 12/7, so there were a few kids with birthdays in October and November 1991, but mostly her group were a bit younger; being in GT probably exacerbated that, since some kids came from other school systems and had been accelerated there, making them even younger).

The upshot is that we've been watching her friends turn 21 one by one, with a flurry the last couple of months. Good to see, of course, but it also reminds us that there's one fewer celebrant than there should be.


I've been walking the paths in Franklin Farm the last few weeks, which I haven't done in years. Katie used to go walking with us, and so there are lots of memories attached to some of the routes: the time she fell off her bike by the big duck pond and it slid down the embankment into the water; Poohsticks Bridge; and of course the place in the woods where some homeowner planted hundreds of daffodils and crocuses at random amongst the trees. They come up every year, have spread, and it's a magical little glade. One of her favorites! This isn't a particularly wonderful picture—it's one of those things that's really hard to get a good view of without a wide-angle lens—but it gives a bit of an idea of how many plants there are.

Seriosity

OK, there appears not to actually be any such word as "seriosity", no matter what Urban Dictionary says, but there should be: the state or degree of seriousness of an individual or situation.

One of Katie's many strengths was her ability to laugh at herself, to not take herself too seriously. I'd say her "seriosity level" was (appropriately!) low. That doesn't mean, of course, that she didn't take anything seriously: rather, she could see the funny side of things, and if that meant poking fun at herself, then she was fine with that.

The flipside of low seriosity is the risk of folks taking offense. It seems to be in vogue nowadays to take offense at just about anything that makes a joke about anyone. While of course there are times and places where jokes are inappropriate, the fact that a joke is made doesn't automatically mean that it's always reasonable to take offense.

I've laughed at jokes about suicide, even after November 2010, because they were funny, damnit. And I know Kt would have done the same.

So that's a long preamble for the following, which I know she would have laughed at, and which will no doubt offend a few folks:

(For anyone who doesn't get the humor, look here and here; the "Look a squirrel!" meme is a common—if mostly incorrect—stereotype of people with ADHD.)

Another Inauguration

Pomp and circumstance, and a lovely day yesterday. I caught bits and pieces between, well, working, and the entire evening news was dedicated to it. One of my favorite parts: watching the Secret Service guys. I bet they all slept like rocks last night!

One overriding thought: if Katie were around, she'd've been down there cheering and waving with a crew of friends (including AK, who was there—you know who you are!).

Big sigh.

Kids Today

There's something about a night flight home from a trip that seems to make me retrospective. I think it's because after a couple of whirlwind days on the road with not enough sleep (I always sleep horribly when I'm away from Anita), I'm in a semi-fugue state, enhanced further by being trapped in a dark tin can with a bunch of folks I don't know.

Whatever the reason, I think about Katie a lot. On my flight last night, this was exacerbated first by watching a fairly mediocre movie called Pitch Perfect. While it had a few good moments, it's mostly a mess, never quite deciding what it's about. There's singing (AutoTuned, sigh), Life Lessons, and sophomoric humor, but it just didn't gel for me.

But it still made me think about Katie and college and like that.

After the movie was a CNBC documentary about 20 Under 20, aka The Thiel Fellowship. Peter Thiel was a co-founder of PayPal, and wants to support young people who have big ideas—to the tune of a two-year fellowship and $100,000, twenty Fellows per year. As the name implies, this means putting college off for two years; the web page says, "Some Ideas Just Can’t Wait." (Besides the link above, there are videos and a blog that are worth checking out.)

The program included clips of some of this year's Fellows talking as they competed to be selected, as well as Sean Parker (the Napster/Facebook guy), Elon Musk (PayPal, SpaceX, Tesla Motors), and a bunch of other well-known names in technology.

It's an amazing idea, and something that simply couldn't have existed even a decade ago. These opportunities for young folks to do interesting things before "paying their dues"—by going through college and finding a "real job" and maybe making enough to go off on their own—have been entirely enabled by the Internet: not just the easy availability of data, but access to technology, crowdsourcing, open source software, and more.

Not that I think Katie was entrepreneurial in the traditional sense. In fact, I doubt that "making lots of money" was something she desired. But some of the Fellows' projects that were mentioned were up her alley, more social than techno. And I could see her getting behind one of those.

I actually wasn't even really thinking that Katie could have been one of that amazing group of kids. What they did remind me of—forcibly—is the passion and energy of the young, and how Katie could be an irresistable force of nature when she put her mind to something.

And so I found myself thinking how the impact of her loss extends beyond just her family and friends: what would she have done, had she lived? Her writing was so powerful and complex, even at 18; I can see her writing the Great American Novel. Or compelling essays on social topics. Or even just a music blog that spread the word on bands worth listening to.

The Grinch

The Christmas that The Grinch came out on videotape (1990 or so, I think?), three different people gave me copies of it. I guess they'd noticed that it was one of my favorites!

And it was one of Kt's favorites, too. (I of course mean the original, animated version; the live-action Jim Carrey version was surprisingly not horrible, but an entirely different experience.)

With the death of Quincy, M.E. (Jack Klugman) today, the following seems particularly apt...and entirely in line with our girl's sense of humor.

 

Here's hoping that everyone got has a safe and happy holiday with their families, eh?

#@24*! Timezones...

A friend points out that my last post shows as December 6. It was really posted in the wee hours of December 7, which was Kt's birthday—blogger uses Pacific time. Sorry for the confusion!

Twenty One Years Ago

Went to sleep at a normal-ish time, woke up, now I can't sleep. Obsessing slightly over the date.

Kind of interesting knowing with dead certainty where one was 21 years ago: I was sleeping on the floor of a Fairfax Hospital room next to Anita (well, trying to sleep, in between being stepped on by nurses). Anita was "being induced"—forced to go into labor—but it wasn't working.

I remember figuring out that the machine monitoring her was networked, and so I could switch it to view the other patients in nearby rooms (something I suspect HIPAA regulations would frown on nowadays). So when she would have a contraction, I could show her that it was very minor compared to other patients'. Not sure she really appreciated knowing that.

When we left the hospital with Katie, Anita was in an entirely normal paranoid-new-mother mode: if a car came within 50 feet of ours, she would alert me, just in case I had somehow managed to miss it. And of course there had to be a tractor-trailer jackknifed on the Beltway! Fortunately it was just after the I-66 exit, and I managed to get over and take 66, instead of the Toll Road, as I had planned. So we made it home safely.

Then we both have very distinct memories of putting our wee bairn in the bassinet, looking at each other, and asking, "So what the heck do we do now?"

But, as with every generation before, we figured it out.

The company I was working for at the time had a sabbatical program, and I was eligible. This meant that I got to take four weeks off with pay. My month started December 6, 1991, and it was a truly magical time. I know that in some other countries, paternity leave is the norm; in some, it's not only allowed, but required, thus avoiding the "Well, you know, I really would love to, but I feel like the office will frown on it". This is a good thing; the US should be so enlightened.

And now, 21 years later, our girl would have been able to drink legally. She would have voted in her first presidential election last month (and those who knew her know who she would have voted for, no question!). She would be in her third year of university, perhaps considering graduate school. We'd have been planning a bash for tonight.

Happy Birthday, my peanut girl.

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be.

– Robert Munsch