My aunt tells me that my grandmother is a very still sleeper. Sometimes she gets scared when they’re lying in bed together, because my grandma doesn’t seem to breathe or move at all. I find myself hoping that she goes this way, painlessly and peacefully in her sleep.
But every morning, when she slowly walks out from her bedroom, I’m relieved and happy that she’s with us another day.
For some reason, I’m always seated by the wings of planes. It suits me fine, as I like to watch the dance of flaps as the pilots check their instruments and controls. It makes me think of how beautiful flight is, of what an accomplishment of humanity it is to get this giant contraption off the ground.
The captain issues a word of caution over the loudspeaker in his generic voice about cinching up our seat belts because it’s going to be bumpy until we reach 20000 feet. Leaving at 1pm and arriving at five in the afternoon, it remains daylight for the entire flight, as we’re chasing the sun around the hemisphere.
Flight information flashes in pairs on the TV screens:
Ground speed: 857k/h. Time to destination: 14h 12m.
Altitude: 8000km. Distance to destination: 15289km.
The man next to me reads People magazine to take his mind off the sudden drops in altitude. He clutches his sternum every time the plane dips suddenly, and fumbles around for the vomit bag. Eventually, he settles his head on the upright tray.
Every shake and sudden movement is a reminder of your mortality.
I used to be scared of turbulence. Now I can’t tell if I’m used to it, or the fact that I’m going to die some day.
Many years ago, I received an e‑mail from a reader named Winston Rand, looking for some blogging advice:
Jeff,
I have been to your equivocality site numerous times over the last couple of months and always come away impressed. Having visited many other “blogs” — God how I’ve come to hate that term — I keep coming back to yours as my gold standard. Been thinking of starting my own, even have 2 domain names paid for, but being an engineer and an IT pro, I’m too hesitant to start until most of the answers are quite clear. That is a strength as well as a failing…
In my quest, I’ve looked at many different blogging tools, hosting sites, etc., and am still not sure which route to take. My temptation is to say to hell with all of them and just post my stuff using static html pages (Dreamweaver) since I’m not really interested in feedback or comments that much. But I do like the ability to easily integrate calendar, archives, and other features that most of the blog packages seem to include by default. And who knows, one of these days I may care what other people think of my work.
Among the popular packages, I’ve got it narrowed down to WordPress, Moveable Type, and SquareSpace, but I’m wide open to suggestions and recommendations.
Could you share your thoughts on what you use and recommend? Any advice will be greatly appreciated.
Keep up your excellent work! I look forward to seeing more of it.
I steered Winston towards WordPress, and soon after, he started his own blog at nobodyasked.com. Over time, he developed a significant readership, as he would write quite lucidly about politics, humour, and the occassional geek talk.
Although our blogs covered different things in a different style (Winston called it “[spinning] in a slightly offset parallel universe” when describing my blog in his one-year anniversary post), we would check up on each other now and then.
During one of my last visits, I found out that Winston has died after a 38-hour illness and 3 surgeries. While I never really knew him in person, I still feel like someone close is gone.
And I wish I could explain why.
I met her a few times. She was nice. Quiet. I was one of the more junior students and she would occasionally give me words of encouragement.
But what endeared her to me was the way she interacted with him. A comfortable familiarity, an unspoken bond they never overtly displayed in public but kept hidden between them, a secret they shared as if to reveal it was to spoil it.
Sometimes, they’d talk about their kids. They were getting older. Getting married. Moving out.
When they found the cancer in her body, he suspended classes immediately. He told us we could find new teachers with his blessing. I looked up their address and sent a basket filled with pâté and dipping oils. That was over a year ago.
And as much as I’d like to do something, anything to make him feel better — offer my condolences, tell him he has an ear — there isn’t anything I can do. Nothing will make up for his loss.
Our bond will remain unspoken too.