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phaedress


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Among wonders too numerous to mention,
there was this utterly personal gift that all of you who attended gave me, just by being who you are.
As you may know, (though my “phaedress” stuff obfuscates this), I live as a shut-in.
Since last September and until recently I was very ill, and often felt too weak to deal with strangers.
Before the week of WorldCon, I hadn’t been downtown for months. Perhaps it’s a by-product of my lengthy solitude, or of earning less than five hundred dollars since 2006, but I rarely feel entitled to take up space outside my own home.

            This week someone (thanks again) paid good money for the badge I wore, and made me grin with pride --and entitlement-- like a tourist.. By staying near the Palais, I was able to sit outside without being distracted by fear and worry. Even as I played with a family of starlings in Victoria Square, I was comforted by the proximity of literally dozens of --clearly labelled-- smart people, who would consider helping a fellow attendee not only an obligation but a privilege. 
         Smart and kind people, for the most part.

           I didn’t need much help, but to all of those of you who gave it unstintingly, (be it to offer me a chair or a pleasant word) I say thanks again.Sometimes I thought I was dreaming, it was so sweet....
          It was awesome to see old familiar faces, thrilling to discover new ideas,(I actually learned a lot this weekend!), and somehow safe in a way I've encountered nowhere else. Perhaps George R.R. Martin said it best when he likened WorldCon to a family reunion. And, like a family reuninon, we renew acquaintence with people for whom we feel all the many gradiations from giggling love to tight-jawed tolerance.



       Today, I feel today as I have after every convention I’ve attended: I wish I had had more of a chance to speak to everyone, sorry for the panels I missed, and sure that something vital went unsaid.

 

 

            Did I say “thanks”, Eugene?

 

           


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Ok, seriously, this is kind of weird.
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Thanks to everyone who wrote.
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Wisdom is like a diamond key, with timing its facets.
When you are not ready, the Truth Itself cannot pierce your self-consciousness.
And then, at other times, everything seems to reverberate with meaning:
Seeking inspiration on a shelf of "post-cancer-help" books at the Wellness Centre I find this:

C.J. Cherryh: The Morgaine Saga

Which turns to be a "wild" book from
bookcrossing.com .

In these interconnected times, it is possible to set something roaming, and still keep track of it. 
I wonder if this applies to human friends as well as written ones? 

Setting books free is a great idea. 
Being able to see where they end up makes it even better.

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 No matter how many people in your life have been truly special,
 they have been too few.
Special even among these are grandmothers.
They come in many varieties, good and bad, but some things they have in common.
Their number, for example, is fixed.
Everyone gets two biological, and anywhere from none to five living grandmothers. 
But for the lucky ones there is that one. 
Grandmother;
a creature functionally indistinguishable from an earthbound guardian angel.
They love us unreservedly, 
believe in us unashamedly, 
and see our best selves even when we don't. 

Losing her is terribly sad.
I know no words of comfort but this:
this pain, unbearable as it is, is infinitely better than the alternative of
never having had such a magical creature in your life.  

As we mourn the passing of a grandmother,
let us celebrate her life,
for it was a great goodness,
and let us be grateful
that she passed so close to us on her way by.
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got time for some fun?
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When I was reading fairy-tales in Prague, I always dreamed of telling and illustrating my own story.
This is perhaps as close as I will come.
Hope you enjoy it.
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I'm sending this out, hoping it will reach you...
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