Hard Days - Dart Haze
I love anagrams.
Hard Days : Ash Dryad : Hardy Sad
Yep.
That tracks.
Yesterday was Steve's memorial.
It was wonderful,
in it's own way.
I've met several of Steve's friends over the years.
And Sharon's friends.
We reconnected there,
over tears
and appetizers.
They asked,
"Does anyone want to speak?"
to the 125 or so attendees.
I listened, and listened,
stories of fellowship,
friendship,
and mentorship....
and suddenly I woke up blinking
at the podium,
taking off my mask
ready to speak.
I was... surprised to say the least.
"Uuuhhh,....."
I deflate gently into the microphone,
stalling for time.
I ended up telling the story of how
Steve and I had a conversation, once.
He was tired of holography.
He was a leading inventor of holographic technology
since the 1970s....
How he loved the intersection of art and science,
but... he needed something *new*.
He liked working with his hands
but flintknapping,.
lapidary,
wood carving,
watercolors...
.... just didn't do the trick.
He was in his 60s
and hungry for new challenges.
I was young, in my 20s
but I had an idea.
I asked if he wanted to go camping
"... with my weird friends"
and he said "Yes!"
My "weird friends" are the SCA.
The Society for Creative Anachronism.
It's like a renaissance faire,
but better.
No actors.
We're all "playing".
Basically it's a bunch of history nerds,
who generally practice some ancient art,
getting together to party for the weekend.
I was thinking,
he might like blacksmithing.
8 years later Steve gave me a sword he'd made for me,
to thank me for introducing him
to his second passion in life.
Blacksmithing.
He dove in, deep.
Obsessed.
Built a smithy.
Took classes around the world.
Began teaching.
Taught hundreds of students blacksmithing over 15 years.
Started a nonprofit blacksmith's guild.
Also started an anvil-import company,
and patented several new tools for the trade.
Steve.... inventing new tools
for a 6,000 year old art.
Yep.
How although he was a physicist,
scientist, inventor, mathematician,
and artist...
The son of a well-known palentologist,
from a family of famous geologists...
He didn't judge you based on your age,
your education,
or your background.
He asked life advice from a 20 year old,
AND, frighteningly enough,
listened.
He was brilliant,
and he saw brilliance in others...
... and respected individual genius
without judging the form it came in.
"You," I told them
"...are all brilliant.
Steve saw that in you and knew that about you.
That's one of the reasons we all loved him so much."
or... something like that.
People I'd met through Steve,
but hadn't seen for a dozen years came up...
said "hello".
A few strangers-to-me thanked me for speaking,
including a smithing student of Steve's.
She was interested in the SCA.
And we both admitted to feeling immediate kinship.
I may have agreed to organize a
"Friends of Steve" annual gathering
as suggested by Vince,
one of Steve's friends from high-school.
Class of 1964 or so.
He and I had met 2 years before,
at a Steve's last party.
We had gotten along like old friends immediately at the time.
And did so again yesterday at Steve's memorial.
Two acquaitances from the memorial,
a couple Sailor and I had met through Contra Dancing
as well as through Steve and Sharon...
... invited Sailor and I out for improv comedy.
Free tickets?
Yes.
Please.
Sailor and I were some of the last attendees to leave,
feeling useless... as event fixins got tore down
faster than we could help do so.
It was held at a Universalist Unitarian church,
we walked through their meditation park,
and talked and hung out
before we finally got in our car to leave.
Steve died 3 months ago...
He was sick for 14 months before that.
It wasn't the same as a funeral.
We weren't all together,
raw from the suddenness.
the newness of loss.
There was a finality already shared...
this was more of a relaxed communion
around the memories of his influence.
A witness to his network of love
from the safety of a wide-angle lens
where 12 weeks of time is the crooked dividing valley
between life with him,
and life without him.
After that we went out to dinner,
joined the other mourning couple at the improv show,
and I thought about the dueling masks of drama.
Tragedy
and
Comedy
entangled.
Life
and
Death
codependents.
We are,
but we weren't always,
and we won't be
forever.
So:
Laugh if you can; cry if you must.
Or, alternatively -
Laugh if you must; cry if you can.
Hard Days : Ash Dryad : Hardy Sad
Yep.
That tracks.
Yesterday was Steve's memorial.
It was wonderful,
in it's own way.
I've met several of Steve's friends over the years.
And Sharon's friends.
We reconnected there,
over tears
and appetizers.
They asked,
"Does anyone want to speak?"
to the 125 or so attendees.
I listened, and listened,
stories of fellowship,
friendship,
and mentorship....
and suddenly I woke up blinking
at the podium,
taking off my mask
ready to speak.
I was... surprised to say the least.
"Uuuhhh,....."
I deflate gently into the microphone,
stalling for time.
I ended up telling the story of how
Steve and I had a conversation, once.
He was tired of holography.
He was a leading inventor of holographic technology
since the 1970s....
How he loved the intersection of art and science,
but... he needed something *new*.
He liked working with his hands
but flintknapping,.
lapidary,
wood carving,
watercolors...
.... just didn't do the trick.
He was in his 60s
and hungry for new challenges.
I was young, in my 20s
but I had an idea.
I asked if he wanted to go camping
"... with my weird friends"
and he said "Yes!"
My "weird friends" are the SCA.
The Society for Creative Anachronism.
It's like a renaissance faire,
but better.
No actors.
We're all "playing".
Basically it's a bunch of history nerds,
who generally practice some ancient art,
getting together to party for the weekend.
I was thinking,
he might like blacksmithing.
8 years later Steve gave me a sword he'd made for me,
to thank me for introducing him
to his second passion in life.
Blacksmithing.
He dove in, deep.
Obsessed.
Built a smithy.
Took classes around the world.
Began teaching.
Taught hundreds of students blacksmithing over 15 years.
Started a nonprofit blacksmith's guild.
Also started an anvil-import company,
and patented several new tools for the trade.
Steve.... inventing new tools
for a 6,000 year old art.
Yep.
How although he was a physicist,
scientist, inventor, mathematician,
and artist...
The son of a well-known palentologist,
from a family of famous geologists...
He didn't judge you based on your age,
your education,
or your background.
He asked life advice from a 20 year old,
AND, frighteningly enough,
listened.
He was brilliant,
and he saw brilliance in others...
... and respected individual genius
without judging the form it came in.
"You," I told them
"...are all brilliant.
Steve saw that in you and knew that about you.
That's one of the reasons we all loved him so much."
or... something like that.
People I'd met through Steve,
but hadn't seen for a dozen years came up...
said "hello".
A few strangers-to-me thanked me for speaking,
including a smithing student of Steve's.
She was interested in the SCA.
And we both admitted to feeling immediate kinship.
I may have agreed to organize a
"Friends of Steve" annual gathering
as suggested by Vince,
one of Steve's friends from high-school.
Class of 1964 or so.
He and I had met 2 years before,
at a Steve's last party.
We had gotten along like old friends immediately at the time.
And did so again yesterday at Steve's memorial.
Two acquaitances from the memorial,
a couple Sailor and I had met through Contra Dancing
as well as through Steve and Sharon...
... invited Sailor and I out for improv comedy.
Free tickets?
Yes.
Please.
Sailor and I were some of the last attendees to leave,
feeling useless... as event fixins got tore down
faster than we could help do so.
It was held at a Universalist Unitarian church,
we walked through their meditation park,
and talked and hung out
before we finally got in our car to leave.
Steve died 3 months ago...
He was sick for 14 months before that.
It wasn't the same as a funeral.
We weren't all together,
raw from the suddenness.
the newness of loss.
There was a finality already shared...
this was more of a relaxed communion
around the memories of his influence.
A witness to his network of love
from the safety of a wide-angle lens
where 12 weeks of time is the crooked dividing valley
between life with him,
and life without him.
After that we went out to dinner,
joined the other mourning couple at the improv show,
and I thought about the dueling masks of drama.
Tragedy
and
Comedy
entangled.
Life
and
Death
codependents.
We are,
but we weren't always,
and we won't be
forever.
So:
Laugh if you can; cry if you must.
Or, alternatively -
Laugh if you must; cry if you can.