Content: In Loving Memory of a Scientist.

[LMNO]

[LOOK UP]   This is... Odd. Usually, when I'm on stage in front of this many people, I'm behind my drumset. And they don't give me a microphone.

What I wanted, was to tell you about how I knew dad, what he meant to me, and what I learned from him... and I found myself staring at a blinking cursor for a few weeks.  What I saw in my head were moments, phrases, images that spread like ripples across thirty-eight years.  Everything was connected, but at the same time there's no possible way to provide the context to give these disjointed moments any sort of narrative.  

But two things kept coming back into focus, a quote and a memory.  So if we're going to start anywhere, we might as well start there.

The quote is a line from his book Constructing Reality:

"If we agree that life is more than a dream, that our consciousness dwells in a universe that includes things other than itself, then what is the nature of those things?"

What is it about that quote?

I mean, there are  plenty of memories to choose from: How he coached me through my first bloody nose; struggling with him and my brother, John, to drag a sizable rock out of the woods to use as a focal point in dad's garden;  or the time when I was five, asking him how a calculator worked, and he actually told me, by trying to explain Base-2 numbering...

that didn't quite pan out at the time. 

That quote speaks of a curiosity about the world – a practical curiosity.  There's no room for idle speculation, for delusions.  There are things out there, and they can be understood.  In a way, it's the basic premise, not just of Science as he knew and taught it, but of rational thought in general -- and he used that line of thought throughout his life, to help him in whatever situation he found himself.

So, when dad made his transition away from primarily physics and into administration, that attitude stayed with him.  If being a scientist means always asking another question, and never quite getting a complete answer, once he started trying to figure out how people worked, he was bound to end up with more questions than answers.  

And that's something dad loved doing:  Interacting with different ideas from different minds, finding out new pieces of information... He wasn't interested in people who knew the same things he knew, or even agreed with him.  He was looking for new perspectives.  Even if there was disagreement, dad would always take the time to listen to a well-supported viewpoint.  He showed us that the way to grow wasn't to hear your own opinions mirrored back at you, it was to interact with new and different ideas, out there in the world.

Which leads to the other thing that surfaces when I remember dad.

It happened a few years ago, when we were in Montana, talking over some of the early drafts for his book.  

[ASIDE] This is a near perfect summation of dad, to me:  There he was, on horseback, riding through a pine forest on a hot summer's day in Northwestern Montana, discussing the finer points of particle physics.  

Anyway, we were talking about probability equations, and quite frankly, I started feeling like I was five again, trying to comprehend binary numbering.  Then he said to me, "you can do all the math, work out the equations, but in the end if you want to know what happened, you have to go look."

Five simple words, fairly obvious, but I was struck by them.  You can read all the books, spend your life in the classroom, but that's all still prep work for the real task, because you'll never truly know until you go look.  Words are not experiences.  Reading about laughter isn't the same as laughing.  You have to get out there, get your hands in it.   

That was how dad lived his life, and if there's anything this memory of him can still teach us, it's that the universe is out there, every day, whizzing by.  What he would want us to do, is get out there and go look.

[LMNO]

Whew. Got the daily content requirement in just in time. In case you were wondering, that's the eulogy I gave today at dad's memorial. Someone told me it was webcast, I'll have to look for the URL.

[East Coast Hustle]

That's fucking awesome, dude. Well done.

[Precious Moments Zalgo]

Your dad sounds like he was a really great guy.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

When I kick the bucket, I hope to inspire a eulogy that's even half that good.

[Thurnez Isa]

Good job man

[Doktor Howl]

Your dad reminds me of a cross between my dad and Richard Feynman.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

I want to say something, but it will come out sounding stupid, so I'll just give the gist with that caveat:

Once I saw the headline while sneaking a peak at the science headlines at work, I felt sad for you, and hoped that you were holding up. On top of that, this eulogy got me to thinking about my own father, and his finer qualities, and how maybe I should have a good conversation with him about history next time I'm in Ireland/England.

[Luna]

Beautifully done.

[LMNO]

I'm also pleased I managed to sneak in a couple of lines from the Chao te Ching chapter he inspired (81).

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

"You have to go look".

That gave me chills. Your dad was a great man, and that was a wonderful eulogy.

[Eater of Clowns]

I would imagine not a dry eye in the house after you read this.  Shit, I got teared up.

[Telarus]

"You have to go look".

That gave me chills. Your dad was a great man, and that was a wonderful eulogy.

Chills. Definitely chills.

(Nice work on incorporating the Tao te Ching verse he inspired. very cool.)

[Kai]

[Don Coyote]

Your dad tried explaining how a calculator worked and Base2 numbering?
It never occurred to me to ask how it worked, let along ask my stepdad.

You were truly fortunate to have such a father.