August 11th, 2025. Dad Doesn’t Turn 81.

My Dad working probably working at Goddard Space Flight Center, younger than I am now. Wish I knew who his grinning friend was!
My mom and George and I visiting my Dad at NASA. I hated the texture of that jacket but it’s a very physical memory.

Shortly after my father died, my brother’s fiance’s parents finally consented to letting their wedding go forward. I don’t know for a fact that this was simple spite, but that’s the way the story’s always been told. While in Houston, getting ready for the wedding, I received an email from my parents’ next-door neighbour saying that I should be glad my father didn’t Live to see what a failure I’d become.

My father would’ve been 81 today, and he would think the stuff I do is amazing. He Loved Heather and he would’ve Loved Kristen, and he’d have thought I needed a hair cut. I think he’d have been mortally offended at my beard but he’d get over it.

In the past 20 years Webb’s replaced Hubble and I think he’d be impressed. He’d have been amazed at how cellphones have developed and he’d have thought my video editing chops were cool. He’d have been sad I didn’t keep playing banjo and would’ve probably thought Teslas were pretty damned cool up until they built their UI on old Android software and the owner turned into a rightwing lunatic. I have NO idea if he’d have gotten conservative like my mother or fallen down a conspiracy hole (he sort of threatened to do that for a while) bit I have the suspicion he’d have gotten aggressively leftist and come to hate the rest of our extended family.

He’d have been pleased that I generally spellcheck the Journal better nowadays.

The Journal had only existed two years when he died.

I miss him regularly, and would never say I’m glad he’s dead, but I think I AM glad he hasn’t Lived to see what’s happening today.

We probably stepped on his crotch a lot in the hammock. Seems like something babies do. The photo is titled “wanting time alone in the hammock”. I doubt that’s true.
This is the age that I think of my Dad as, eternally.

“The reward of old age. You Live long enough, and you can watch everything you worked for become irrelevant”. Avasarala failing to sell Living a long Life. And today, with my mother lamenting what’s happening to the Board of Education, with so many of the women of In Process… watching all of their civil rights strides being eradicated, Daryl Davis has Lived long enough to see the resurgence of the KKK and WWII vets Lived JUST long enough to see a resurgence of Nazis in America, ENCOURAGED by America and sanctioned by the American president. The last of the Holocaust survivors have Lived long enough to see that when Israel bellows “never again”, they simply meant “never again to US, but it’s okay if we eradicate others”.

Dad building my bed. I actually have no idea if this is at my mother’s house, and I feel terrible admitting that. It was pretty crude, but he was really proud of it and built “secret compartments” at the back of the drawers (removable thin sheets of plywood). I don’t know how old I was but I remember the newspapers and the smell of the varnish.

It could absolutely be argued that I’m glad my father didn’t Live to see the dismantlement of NASA and the cruelty-laden destruction-through-neglect of the scientific community across the world in general, and at Goddard Space Flight Center in particular.

Angry, sad, guilty.

I’ve OFTEN felt that my father would be amazed by so many of the things around us. But I think the golden time of impressing my dad with the World of the 21st Century ended about 10 years ago, before America decided facts, science, and morality didn’t matter.

Dad, I Love you. You would’ve HATED this though.

March 7th, 2005. It’s insane to realize how fast his cancer killed him. George and Del visiting from Houston, out pretending to walk the cat. Roughly 33 days before he died, this has got to be one of the last times he was ambulatory. Going through photos of the time, Heather and I came home from touring, but we played out most nights and came home to be with him. The photos all imply Life as normal. I don’t think I believed it till he was bedridden.

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