Posted by Deirdre
Sun, 24 Dec 2006 06:44:00 GMT
In 1996, my first husband (Richard Savino) and I went to Newgrange with my father on our wedding trip.
Today, I got a CD with scans of the photos (some of which I'd taken), including some I'd never seen.
One of those photos was of Richard at Newgrange.
I've got to say, it's incredibly weird to see new photos of someone who's been dead ten years. It's even weirder to tweak them in Photoshop.
Here's the photos with Richard in them. And here's all the Ireland photos. At the moment, the two sets are the same, but I have about 80 more pictures to put up.
Posted in In Memoriam | Tags ireland, richard, savino | no comments
Posted by Deirdre
Thu, 16 Nov 2006 01:24:00 GMT
Today is the tenth anniversary of my first husband's death. Though I've been remarried more than half that time, there are certain days each year that don't seem to get any easier.
This is one of them.
I woke up early, drank coffee, took vitamins, drank more coffee and soda with lunch, took more vitamins, and I've been yawning all day. The effects aren't emotional so much as physical: the body remembers.
Posted in In Memoriam | no comments
Posted by deirdre
Mon, 18 Sep 2006 01:09:00 GMT
Like Dick Morrell, I was also one of Rob Levin's coworkers at Linuxcare.
How I'd best sum up Rob: he had an idea for what he wanted to do with his life -- and he made his life work out so that he could do exactly that. The irc.freenode.org structure he created has been of immense help in getting communication working for numerous free software projects, including Ruby on Rails (though the core team has now moved to Campfire for obvious reasons).
Rob wanted to make open source happen by making communication about open source easier. He did that, and everyone who uses open source has benefited, albeit indirectly, from his work.
I talked to him not so very long ago about some of the changes he'd made in his life since we worked together, including moving from the expensive bay area to much-less-expensive Houston.
I'm sorry he didn't have a longer life. I'm especially sorry Benjamin will have to go through the last ten years of his childhood without his father. And, of course, I'm sorry that Deb won't have the husband she relied on. I didn't get their relationship (they seemed so different), but then again, I didn't have to.
I haven't met many people in my life that had Rob's single-mindedness of purpose. At times, I thought he was nuts. In the end, though, he made it work, and that's not nuts at all.
Posted in In Memoriam | Tags freenode, levin, linux, rob | no comments | no trackbacks
Posted by deirdre
Wed, 16 Nov 2005 07:02:47 GMT
It's an interesting thing, grief. Bodies don't forget, even when people do. Tuesday (the 15th) was the 9th anniversary of my first husband's death. A lot of people thought I "should be over it" 18 months after his death.
If only.
It's just not that simple. Every year, I get sideswiped by some day: wedding anniversary, his birthday, anniversary of his death, etc., wandering around feeling fuzzy in the head, sometimes ill, but not quite sure why -- until I remember what day it is (or almost is). I still remember having to excuse myself from a meeting several years after his death when it suddenly hit me that it was Valentine's day -- and that Richard died soon enough after we were married that we were never married on V-day. During the time of that meeting, I had been re-married a few months, approximately the same amount of time Richard and I were married before his sudden death.
I still remember what Richard looked like, what he sounded like, and, most unfortunately, the feeling of abject terror when I realized he was having a stroke and one brain function after another shut down while I watched, helpless. I sincerely hope that will be the scariest thing I ever see (or feel).
This time, I've been in a fog for a week.
The good news is, the fog has lifted. It's nice to have a functioning brain again.
Posted in Notes, In Memoriam | 1 comment | no trackbacks
Posted by deirdre
Mon, 03 Oct 2005 15:47:16 GMT
As some of you know, I worked for Be briefly, so I feel some ownership in this even though the BeBoxen were a thing of the past when I was there.
Here's the story.
Posted in Development, In Memoriam | no comments | no trackbacks
Posted by deirdre
Thu, 01 Sep 2005 01:27:51 GMT
I was just getting down to my evening (yes, I know it's after midnight, but hey) reading of blogs when I read over on whump.com that Kepler's closed today for good.
I'm extremely sad, but I had noticed some of the signs. The other day, mom and I went to Kepler's, where they were having a "buy three books, get one free" sale. I bought two books on software engineering (from their very lean computer section), mom bought an art book of funky Japanese schoolgirl clothes, and we got Rick the latest from Lois McMaster Bujold.
I started working at Kepler's on 9/10/01, which means my second day there was 9/11. I can't think of a more surreal day to work in a bookstore -- people came in just wanting to Do Something, to share the fact that they were utterly and completely in shock. Ira Sandperl came and talked to people about peace, as Ira was wont to do. I don't know if he's still alive; he was quite old and frail last I saw him.
Clark Kepler is an extremely cool person. In the rush of Christmas season, he'd be in the store, helping everyone. When I had a long register line, he was right there helping with gift-wrapping. He's another person I'd work for again in a heartbeat (in addition to Marie). I can't imagine what a heartbreak this is for him and his staff.
Few people, even the locals, realize how influential Kepler's was and how much change one small bookstore helped cultivate. Ira taught and influenced many people, Joan Baez among them, about peace. If you really looked hard, he and Roy Kepler were the foundation of a great deal of the anti-Vietnam protests that took place in the sixties.
Also, back when the Grateful Dead lived in Menlo Park (about two blocks from where I now reside), they rehearsed at Keplers, though Roy thought they were a bit too noisy. And, of course, even though he will always be thought of as an Oregon writer, Ken Kesey was living in Menlo Park -- and frequenting places such as Kepler's -- when his landmark work, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest was written, and for good reason: his experience at the local veteran's hospital was pivotal to the development of the work.
One thing I can say about Kepler's: it was the only place I've ever worked where everything, absolutely everything, I was interested in was useful. Everywhere else I've worked, no matter how cool, there were always things that weren't "relevant" to the job.
May everyone involved land on their feet. I sure know that Clark has some of the best booksellers in the business.
Posted in Notes, In Memoriam | 1 comment | no trackbacks
Posted by deirdre
Fri, 10 Jun 2005 21:31:05 GMT
...from the back yard tonight, but it didn't sound like a cat. Nevertheless, it was a cat, as Rick found out when he went out there -- our neighbor's older orange-and-white cat, who was yelling out for rescue. A cat that wasn't otherwise moving. Rick thought it had just died after he first saw it, but the silly city boy didn't think to check for breathing.
Neighbors weren't home.
Seeing no obvious injury, illness, or disease and noting that the cat appeared paralyzed, I checked one of its hind legs, which was cold. Not good. After checking it out, I decided that we should move the cat, so I got an appropriately-sized box and an old towel I didn't care about, and we put him in the box. So far, so good.
Once he got in the kitchen (I know, but the old guy is paralyzed, so it's not like it's not a contained threat), his feet warmed up and his breathing improved. Over time his breath got more raspy and sporadic.
Rick and Cheryl went over to see where the neighbor's daughter works. We also called where the neighbor works. So far, it's been an hour, but we haven't heard a peep out of anyone.
But at least the poor guy has some company.
Update: about a half hour after his breathing became sporadic and raspy, his whole body shook, then he died. About fifteen minutes after that, one of the neighbors came over and took the box with their kitty.
No one had seen him at all yesterday, and the day before he'd been refusing food and water, so my initial guess of renal failure may have been correct. My friend Elisa thought he was dying from a series of strokes (the yowling and the paralysis), but it could just as easily have been a series of strokes brought on by the end stages of renal failure, too.
Rest well, old lad.
Posted in In Memoriam | 1 comment | no trackbacks
Posted by deirdre
Fri, 05 Nov 2004 22:35:57 GMT
Jeanne died about the time I wrote the last entry. :(
I just didn't know that for a few days.
Posted in In Memoriam | no comments | no trackbacks
Posted by deirdre
Wed, 29 Sep 2004 17:41:36 GMT
Time is infinite
You are finite
Motorcycle is wrong tool
Posted in In Memoriam | no comments | no trackbacks
Posted by deirdre
Wed, 21 Jul 2004 17:35:05 GMT
So it turns out that if you die at home and aren't on a priority for an autopsy, it can take 2-6 months (!) to get the lab results for your cause of death.
Why does this matter? Because insurance won't pay out until a cause of death is determined. At least, in the case of one of the people I know who died recently, this is the issue. It doesn't even matter if it's "heart attack or stroke," insurance companies need to know specifics.
I can't really blame them, but then the point becomes: should you drop dead suddenly, have some way of supporting your family in the meantime that doesn't rely on insurance or probate, both of which can be quite slow.
Now, for my late husband, who died in a hospital (and had organ donations pending on being declared properly dead), I was able to pick up his death certificate within two weeks. Had he had insurance, it would have paid out very quickly thereafter. But, I find out, that's not necessarily the norm.
This has been a Public Service Announcement.
Posted in Notes, In Memoriam | no comments | no trackbacks
