The Kindest Cut
We've got a new podcast coming next week, but this one's a got a great moment with Dad when I was a kid, some Instax, and more
The Virtual Memories Show News
A 2x/week email about a podcast about books & life
Podcastery

So sorry, but no new podcast this week. I was at Readercon in Burlington, MA last weekend, but didn’t schedule any guests and didn’t have any impromptu pod-sessions, though I did bring my recording gear with me. I scheduled a guest for this Saturday, so I hope to get back in the podcast saddle and bring you new episodes throughout the summer. Don’t know how I’ll do, having a conversation that isn’t about my dad’s death or about FDA user fee reauthorizations, as those are pretty much the only topics I’ve talked about with anyone in the past several weeks. Maybe you oughtta go through the archives alphabetically.
Last week, I posted Episode 646 of my Virtual Memories Show. There was no conversation, unless you count me talking to myself as I shared some thoughts and memories about my father, who died on July 10, along with the eulogy I gave at his funeral. I also told the story of the time he handed me a shotgun before a business deal and told me to wait in a side room “in case anything happens. . . .” Give it a listen.
Recent episodes: Rachel Cockerell • Paul Karasik • Kate Maruyama • David Denby • Peter Stothard • Cecile Wajsbrot • Keiler Roberts
The Kindest Cut

I spent a bunch of time last weekend relitigating bad shit from my upbringing and relationship with Dad. But I became aware that was a defense mechanism, using anger as a shield against actually feeling everything around his death, and I tried to short-circuit that, though it creeps back in occasionally.
On Monday afternoon, I remembered what I think is the best memory I have of him. It took place when I was six years old; make of that what you will.
Six years old means it was 1977, and 1977 means Star Wars came out. Like most every (male) kid of that era, I was dying to see the movie, as was my 9-year-old brother. Dad took us to the multiplex on Rt. 4 in Paramus for an afternoon showing one weekend, but when we arrived, there was a line stretching all the way around the building. And it was a big building.
We were disheartened, as the showing would likely be sold out before we got to the box office (or Dad would bail on standing in line that long). But then he walked us up to a man who was maybe a dozen spots from the front of the line. It was a friend of his from work, and he let us cut in behind him, pretending that he’d been waiting for us. I was too young to notice if people behind us grumbled.
And that was it. Dad got us into Star Wars, and for one goddamned moment, he was our hero.

*
This email setup runs $29/month, podcast-hosting via LibSyn is $20/month, and the remote recording setup on Zencastr is $20/month, so if you want to help out with these expenses or otherwise Contribute To The Cause, you can support the Virtual Memories Show with a contribution of any size, one-time or recurring.
Instaxery
Here are a couple Instax I took on Saturday, visiting an old friend in MA and then on the way to dinner with another old friend.

On Sunday I posted the ones I took on Friday’s trip up to Readercon, but for the sake of Instax-completeness, here they are again:

Artistry
Still haven’t drawn anything since Dad died, but that’s more because I’m so goddamned frazzled than from any “I’ll never draw again!” silliness. You should go to the Flickr album of most of the art I’ve made & find something you like.
Postcardery
Let me know if you want to be on my postcard-a-day list. (Financial supporters of the podcast get a hand-drawn or painted postcard as a thank-you.)
Until Next Time
Thanks for reading this far. I’ll be back on Sunday with links, books, & workout-/meditation-craziness, and on Wednesday with a new episode (I hope), and maybe some art and an Instax.
You must have tried and defied belief / Maybe buried your head in insular grief / I need your hunger, you need mine / A million mouths can swallow up time,