Ten Years

I had a dream weekend before last—Halloween night, actually, though Halloween was a non-event here, with us hiding in our bedroom with all the outside and downstairs lights off.

The dream was fragmentary, as they so often are. I was out in the cul-de-sac in front of our house, and looked up at our house, which was cycling through variations: different siding, slightly different trim, different landscaping, differently aged trees; sometimes even no house at all, just a grassy lot.

I somehow knew this was a multiverse thing. The multiverse is a theory that we inhabit just one of a huge number of universes, each different in at least one way, superposed on each other—existing simultaneously. The variation can be as major as some different law of physics, or as minor as whether you had eggs instead of a bagel for breakfast this morning. Every choice has the potential to split off another branch. Some of those may even fold back into each other—for example, if you had the bagel today and the eggs tomorrow vs. the opposite, with no permanent effects; in another branch, you forgot the eggs on the stove and burned the house down.

The idea of the multiverse has been used a lot in science fiction, but it turns out to be part of current scientific theories about the actual universe. This article covers it reasonably coherently; their #4, “Daughter Universes”, is the flavor I’m talking about above.

Anyway, back to the dream: I was standing there watching the house cycle, and a car pulled into the cul-de-sac and stopped, and Katie got out. Not the Katie we last knew: this one was several (ten?) years older, although I don’t know how I knew that. She said something to me in passing—I don’t remember what—and headed into the house.

And that’s all I remember, alas.

 

In such a strange year, I’ve thought even more than usual about what she’d be like now. So many of her friends have “real lives”: married, careers, homes far away. Of course our girl is frozen in our minds, and I keep wanting to talk to her about the pandemic, and the election, and stuff in general.

Next universe please.

Excellent quote

From American Dirt, by Jeanine Cummins:

In the months to come, Luca will sometimes wish he hadn’t squandered these early days of his grief. He’ll wish he’d let it pierce and demolish him more. Because, as the forgetting part takes anchor and stays, it will feel like a treachery. He’ll mistakenly believe it’s his own cowardice erasing Papi’s details—the mole above his left eyebrow, the tight, rough little curls of his hair, the timbre of his voice when he laughs, the sandpaper feel of his jaw against Luca’s forehead when they read together at night in Luca’s bed. But Luca doesn’t know any of that yet, nor does he know that, no matter what he does right now, that creeping amnesia is inevitable, it’s not his fault.

I thought this captured nicely how the feeling of distance from a grief event makes you feel bad about that distance, even as you recognize and appreciate its benefit.

Strange season

Between Katie's birthday, the holidays, and attending a funeral yesterday, I've been in a strange mood. Thanksgiving being so late this year didn't help either, as it means Christmas came on way too fast.

I've also suddenly discovered that music from the 70s is at least as much "my" music as what I'd always thought, which was 80s. Not sure why; I'm guessing it's because I was younger and wasn't buying much music in the 70s, and/or that of course many of those musicians continued into the 80s. But a few weeks ago I accidentally tuned to SiriusXM channel 7 instead of 8, and then realized I had been happily listening for a while.

The result is that I've been obsessively playing Nile Rodgers (Chic, Sister Sledge) and Kool and the Gang and Steve Miller and more. Kt would be horrified, I'm sure. Especially when I threatened to buy a polyester leisure suit! (But actually I know she liked Sister Sledge We Are Family, having heard it at the end of The Birdcage.)


As a Grinch fan, she'd have appreciated this SMBC:

 

There's something awesome about a 50-year-old kids' cartoon becoming a meme.


And our little girl who figured out Santa was fictional would definitely have liked this one:

 

A bit dark, but still.

28

Katie would have turned 28 on Saturday. So many of her friends are graduating and/or getting married and it's just hard to grok.

We spent a quiet weekend, in part because I'm getting over a bout of BPPV (Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo). This is the second or third such: I spent a miserable day in a hotel room in Ontario with Katie and Anita over a decade ago, with the room spinning, and then had a minor bout 16 months ago.

This one wasn't too bad—no actual "spinnies"—but of course it decided to hit while I was in California visiting company HQ, which was inconvenient. I bailed early, got home and crashed for ten hours or so.


On a brighter note, I spent the Saturday before Thanksgiving running judging at an FLL tournament in DC. Two of my judges were high school girls who reminded me of Katie in the most general of ways: young, enthusiastic, smart, and personable. One of them is the daughter of another long-time FLL volunteer with whom I've worked, and was actually a Capital Girl (long after my co-coach and I had moved on, but continuing the name and legacy).

And this morning I got email from her dad saying that she had been awarded the Katie Smith Memorial Award at this year's state FLL competition. This is an award given to a volunteer who is deemed to have helped spread the message and experiences available through FLL. Nice.

Another beautiful fall day

It’s a stunning fall day here. Not unlike nine years ago today. But understandbly I am so not in the mood for it.

Ran some errands, knew I was on edge, managed to keep my mouth shut at the woman strolling at half-speed through the store entrance, and the dude in line behind me at the bagel shop complaining loudly that they were out of his favorite, and the middle-aged guy in front of me at the grocery store checkout who acted like he’d never used a credit card terminal before. Not their fault: normal behavior, just suboptimal for me on this day of days.

A long walk listening to The Cure helped some. Kt, you should be here, responding to this, laughing at me for listening to 80s pre-emo and pushing something newer on me instead.

Missing you today and every day, my sweet girl.

Law and Order: Whoville

Another one Katie would have loved:

If you don't get it, go watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas immediately! (Yes, there are grown-up Americans who have never seen it. We don't know how they've survived to adulthood without having done so, but they do exist.)


Merry Christmas to all, eh?

Three Filled

I’m a day late getting this posted, but yesterday Katie would have turned 27. (If you don’t understand the title, it’s time to (re)read Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land—“three filled” is 27.)

We were watching the news a couple of weeks ago, a segment on the fires that destroyed Paradise, California, and Anita commented, “We’re so lucky!” Her point was that we generally don’t have natural disasters like fires and tornadoes here.

Of course she then stopped and asked, “Are we lucky?” Because of course “luck” comes in various flavors and degrees. And that question has been pinballing around my head ever since.

Overall, I think we have been pretty lucky. We have each other, and a very comfortable life, and that’s more than far too many people can claim.

But most of all, we were lucky to have almost 19 years of Katie.

And that’s my thought for the day.