2009 is barely a month old and already...
I am surprised at how happy I am over Barack Obama becoming The President. I liked his speech; I liked that he included atheists in addition to all the supernatural beliefs; I liked that he promised that national security won't be at the expense of personal liberty; I liked it all. Good days. I only the wave of optimism carries us through the tough months coming up before people start bellyaching that they're not getting their share of Constitutionally assured happiness. (I think this is a basic misconception and cause of much distress in American life. I don't think Brit's, for example, expect to be happy. Americans seem to, and seem to feel cheated if they don't get it. I'm just saying...at least they aspire to something rather than settle for it, I guess....).
I especially liked that Dick Cheney was in a wheelchair. Reminded me of Mason Verger...
However, the month started sadly with the death of my old friend Steve Edgson. When I was about 22-25 I was in a band with Steve. We weren't successful - it was a very Coventry, underachieving experience in many respects, although the band did have its moments. Steve was the clarinetist (which says much of the band and the times). What saddened me most about his death was that, at 53, he was so young. Despite my urge to eulogize feels improper to talk about Steve here, it's probably enough to say that I can't think of Steve without smiling. He had a very Coventry sense of humor (the place does have some defining characteristics beyond The Specials, spiteful violence, unemployment and a crappy accent) and he was one of those people for whom a smile was never far from the surface. A true English eccentric; creative, individual, and very very quick-witted, which for me is one of the prime indicators of intelligence (do you know any smart people who aren't funny? Friends and family of Stephen Hawking cannot reply). I hadn't seen him for years and was shocked at how sad I felt knowing I'd never see him again. An ex-girlfriend (doubtless trying to get me off the phone) once said, quite wisely, that missing people is like spending time with them. I guess I've been hanging out with Steve a lot of late. I wish I was as witty as he was, I wish I could make someone laugh like he still makes me laugh, I wish I was as sharp as he was. Life is too short and the people you want to see you should see and the things you want to do you should do an--I suppose--the people; you should do them too. I'd like to think Steve would agree.
