Saturday I had not planned to go to the BoS party because that afternoon was the memorial for Kevin Brooks. Kevin and I were grad students at the Lab at the same time. We lost touch when he moved out of the area, but we saw each other at the frequent reunions and were as friendly as you tend to be with someone who's shared the particular anguish that is a PhD.
This memorial was much more emotional for me. I don't think I can sing Amazing Grace without tearing up and I cried a couple other times during the remembrances. There were a few people at the church from his MIT days but I would have expected more, hoped for more. Life goes on for the living; people have other commitments. People forget. People are busy.
The storyteller community was much more heavily represented, and they did well as you'd hope, telling us things about Kevin most of us knew and didn't know. I am glad I got to know more of him and what he did and what he meant to other people. We are all mixed and imperfect creatures, but Kevin was one of the good ones, and he died far too young. Fuck cancer.
Kevin is tied into my social circle in at least a couple of interesting ways. It's a small world, what can I say. Still, I felt like I had spent the afternoon in the company of strangers and I wasn't certain that I wanted to be at a big social gathering.
I decided to go in hopes of seeing some people from whom I knew I could collect some hugs. Pygment was (is) injured and wasn't going to spin so we resolved to leave earlier than we usually do.
So I decided to go. (Continued in part 2)