Words’ End

You would’ve been 69 years old today. Instead, you’re five and a half years gone.

So many things on my mind, but the one that keeps surprising me – you’re an inspiration. You’ve taught me, by example, what to do – and what not to do.

Perhaps I’ve grown into how our relationship had changed, how my understanding of you had changed, in those last few years. I used to do things despite you and your stubborn will (that’s what you get for passing on your genes), but now I do them to honor you. Ironically enough, you still wouldn’t approve of some key choices I’ve made. But that doesn’t matter, it would still be nice to share them with you, and argue until we’re hoarse and it’s way past bedtime.

You are the reason I want to believe in the possibility of meeting you again someday.

Jewish lore says (or so I’ve heard, anyway) that the living are allowed to summon the dead for a year after death, whenever, to help with the grieving process; and that then it’s time to let them go where they will. Wherever else you might be, you’re in my blood, and I can summon that part of you whenever I damn well please. Happy birthday.

Welcome, Sylvana Campbell Gruesz, daughter of Colleen and Carl! A big one she is, 9lb 3oz. Born last night by c-section for positioning reasons, mom and baby seem to be doing fine so far. I hope to see them soon, perhaps even today.

Dance the dance with us, baby. We’ve been waiting for you.

(I was thinking of diminuitives to her name last night. Sylvana – Syl – Sylly!)

2006 has been decidedly a mixed bag so far. An extended family visit was emotionally draining, despite its many shining moments. Driving home through sleet was about as much fun as it sounds, and when we got home we were so exhausted that there was immediately a vicious fight and subsequent bad feelings lasting well over half an hour.

…I’m pretty lucky, huh? E. and I have our problems, and it’s been a difficult couple of weeks, and there are issues to work on, but I have never experienced a long-term relationship in which love truly does conquer all. Quickly, even.

Today, I am sick; mostly, it seems, from allergies to Aki the Cat Who Charmed The World (Including His Catsitter). Muscle pain too, though, so it might still be a cold caught from Tesher the Nephew Who Couldn’t Stop Coughing (But Who Is Still Charming As Hell). See lucky, above: Ethan has been cleaning the house for the past hour or so, while I’m sequestered in the living room.

But none of this matters. Yesterday, Rhode Island became the eleventh state in the Union with a medical marijuana law on the books. The bill was first passed last summer, and in his infinite scientific good judgment, Governor Carcieri vetoed it immediately. State Senate overrode his veto a while back; yesterday, the House did the same. HELL YES. Finally.

The document can be found here. It provides the opportunity to use marijuana for medical purposes, and protections that go therewith, to patients suffering from AIDS, multiple sclerosis, cancer and other debilitating diseases. Here are some excerpts:

Modern medical research has discovered beneficial uses for marijuana in treating or alleviating pain, nausea and other symptoms associated with certain debilitating medical conditions, as found by the National Academy of Sciences’ Institute of Medicine in March 1999 [...]

According to the U.S. Sentencing Commission and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, ninety-nine (99) out of every one hundred (100) marijuana arrests in the United States are made under state law, rather than under federal law. Consequently, changing state law will have the practical effect of protecting from arrest the vast majority of seriously ill people who have a medical need to use marijuana.[...]

States are not required to enforce federal law or prosecute people for engaging in activities prohibited by federal law. Therefore, compliance with this chapter does not put the state of Rhode Island in violation of federal law. [...]

Boo yah. The distinction between medical and non-medical use is made loud and clear, and the lawmakers were careful not to include any politically inflammatory language regarding the war on drugs in general. Damaging and senseless as the marijuana prohibition has been in general over the past… oh, eight decades or so, this isn’t the place to fight it. The point is, people in Rhode Island who spend their days in pain and misery can now alleviate that pain without being considered criminals when no other pain reliever works.

Thank you, Rhode Island legislature. This step toward sanity is courageous in the current political climate.

I’ve been in a slump of varying sorts. Luckily, it’s ending.

Work is going… well, it’s going. At least some of the projects that had been stalled, are moving. The way this was accomplished means a lot more work for me, but at this point I’m happy to do it, rather than battle communication issues.

I’m terrified of the impending end to the grant period (not until June, but still!). We’re running out of time. On the other hand, this makes things exciting, and now when I say “X has got to be done now” people can’t ignore me, or tell me to go take a chill pill.

Submitted an abstract for a conference right on the due date (of course), and a book review somewhere between a few days and two weeks late (depending on how you look at it… considering the book is 450+ pages long, and dense, I’d say not bad.)

Got sick on Monday with whatever it is that Ethan has. He’s almost over it; I managed to sneeze myself into a half-hour long nosebleed yesterday, and coughing hurts like a… a thing that hurts a lot. Have you ever tried to cough gently when sick? Yeah, doesn’t work too well.

My poor, long-suffering mother has to find yet another person to help her take care of gramma (who is at home with Alzheimer’s). This will be the fourth: the woman who lives with her currently has to leave for personal reasons. Sigh.

Been getting back into music while working. Don’t know why I took such a long hiatus, but finally made an iTunes playlist of all my songs with no lyrics (635 of them). It helps me work, it does.

Two good friends are due to become parents any day now! Making beef stew for them to throw in the freezer (which is, reportedly, full of tasty goodness made by various folk) was by far the culinary adventure of the month. I haven’t made food with so much intention in a while.

The world keeps spinning. Dick Cheney stuck his foot in his mouth big time – BBC’s article is fairly neutral, but the photo speaks volumes. The story of Sony’s viral software is more than meets the eye, says Wired – it’s a great article on corporate bullshit and companies that make virus “protection” software, please read it.

When I grow up, I want a hidden door in my house.

Speaking of labyrinths, Nick Montfort has released another interactive fiction piece, his first in a while, called Book and Volume. Looks interesting. I was kind of indifferent to his Winchester’s Nightmare and absolutely loved Ad Verbum. Haven’t played any IF in a long time, perhaps it’s time to start again? :)

Burning Man 2005 has been photographed from above, and someone posted a particularly beautiful shoton Flickr.

Just because I haven’t posted any more November-photo-month pictures, doesn’t mean I haven’t been taking them. In due time.

Time to catch up on work.

Ethan, while doing homework, to Aki’s latest move in the Cats’ Campaign Against Literacy (wherein he will walk, sit or lie on just the book or magazine you’re trying to read):

“You are going to interfere with my anaerobic fermentation. Because you are a contaminant. So I’ll have to remove you, dilute you, find something that complexes with you…”

*happy sigh* “I love face masks. Love ‘em. They make me feel like a girl.”

“Funny; they make you look like a zombie.”

E: “….Wow. OK, I don’t know why I thought I needed to talk to God just now, but now that I have I’m going to bed.”

V: *dies laughing* “Can I post this?”

Last week, on the autumn equinox, was our first-first wedding anniversary. (We got married in the fall, and again on the spring equinox of this year.) We went camping, journeyed through the woods, gathered large sticks and cooked hobo stew wrapped in aluminum foil, drank prosecco out of the bottle and watched the fire crackle its way through the dark dark evening. Everything was alive, down to the myriad of spiders everywhere. I stayed away from the spiders and clung to my love, thankful and still amazed at the fortune of meeting him.

Today is my grandmother’s 90th birthday. Was, technically, as she was born in Baku (but is Jewish, not Azerbaijani) and it’s well past midnight there. I talked with her on the phone, and am pretty sure she didn’t really know who I was. She’s in that stage of Alzheimer’s where she sounds both lucid and calm, but that’s because she’s gotten used to the denial of going with the flow of whatever we say. Something to the effect of, You’re my granddaughter? Oh, that’s nice, dear. How nice of you to call.

Talking to her these days is creepy and sad. There’s no point in talking often: I’m a bad granddaughter, haven’t felt particularly close to her since my early teens and was terrible at writing letters from America when she was still living in Kishinev with my grandfather. He passed away in 1997, and she moved here in… 2000? 1999? something like that.

But they did help raise me, and I have many memories of their apartment with its dusty books and knick-knacks and tiny well-loved kitchen and grape vines overgrowing the windows and pigeons nesting in the vines. My grandmother read many newspapers and cooked tasty cheese wafers.

She had stunning black hair and a great sense of style. She flirted with my grandfather by leaning out the window, so that her shoulder-length mane would fall to the side like Rapunzel’s.

She waited for her husband to come back from world war 2 while caring for their three children with one other woman’s help. She watched one of her two sons slowly waste away when he, a chemist, was stricken by chemical poisoning and his workplace didn’t even acknowledge that this was possible, and didn’t support him at all.

She taught, first in schools (history) and then at the university (history of the Party). Her long-ago university students came to visit her up until she left the country. She played bridge with grampa and her friends. She would sit there and watch me eat, smiling with delight. She didn’t really drink, but smoked a pack a day until, I think, grampa died and she moved out of their place to a friend of the family’s, waiting for her emigration documents. They’d lived in that apartment since 1953.

She’s had a dignified, full life. Every once in a while the blind injustice of her chronic brain disease washes over me in a wave of dread.

Isn’t she beautiful?

While looking around Inside Higher Ed, I came across an old article about Princeton’s new policy of automatically granting a one-year leave from tenure track when a faculty member becomes a parent. I’d been delighted to read this back in August: one thing I don’t like at all about academe in the U.S. is the default assumption that people who make teaching and research their life’s work aren’t entitled to a life outside of the university.

Many more comments have been posted since I last read the article, and I boggle. Some of the people who choose to be “child-free” actually dare to imply that having children makes for lazy academics. That having children means you aren’t dedicated to education and research. I’d like to see them be responsible for a baby and hold down an exhausting full-time job at the same time, for just a month or so. I wonder if they’d change their mind then.

And spare me the “we have too many people on this planet” argument. Fertility is well below replacement rate (2.1 is said to keep a population stable) in a large portion of the world, including most of Europe and North America. The places with particularly high fertility rate (Niger tops the CIA World Factbook chart, with 7.55 children born per woman on the average) also have a huge infant mortality rate.

They’re up, and I am in big trouble. It’s way, way past bedtime.