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Yeah, how was this bound to end.
Jan. 22nd, 2025 08:49 pmThe trip to Lake Geneva was really, really difficult, from getting off the Amtrak in Naperville, where the conductors did not put down the ramp because they were in a hurry (although they were actually way ahead of schedule). I have absolutely no sense of balance between, say, three inches and a foot or more. And it was terrifying to try holding on to the train and setting one foot out for the yellow metal stool. And I nearly fell (which would have been a disaster I cannot even contemplate) and I did wrench my knee, and I was crying and cursing. And then we had to Uber to a rental car place, which did not have a single fucking car my travelscoot could fit in (though it fits in my Honda Fit perfectly, without needing to be broken down). And they were all a foot off the ground, so getting INTO the car was almost as bad as gettin off of the train.
Once we were in Lake Geneva, things were better, though there were too many people to divide one's attention between, by which I really mean my stepmother's family. I am glad they were there to support her. But it was hard to balance than with my sister, my nieces, my brother-in-law, and my aunt, our two cousins, and Pete's wife and two kids, who don't know Mary's family at all. And Mary's family is nice... but nothing like mine. More money. Mennonites. A little bossy towards Mary and a little condescending towards us. The sister of Mary's I feel the closest to couldn't come because of her own health.
The service was really good, to the extent that I was able to stay there and not just zone out into tears. 200 people, and the revolutionary marxists let it all hang out and offered memories that left the local Lake Genevans at the very least nonplussed.
My dad's friend, mentee (SO MANY people who thought of his as a mentor in their lives...) co-worker at the Northwestern University Archives and eventual successor there gave the eulogy and it was really wonderful. He is one of the kindest most decent people I've ever known, and also terribly funny. The two of them were like a double act at Northwestern.
Kevin told about how he met my dad when he was an undergraduate researching for a paper, and when he signed in to the Archives users' book, PQ looked at it and said "Kevin B. Leonard?" Kevin BARRY Leonard? Your folks are Irish nationalists?" No one had ever instantly deduced that. They got on like a house on fire after that, but Kevin did make some assumptions of his own, and he asked my dad "where he went to Mass"? PQ growled and went into a rant about the medieval superstition of the Catholic Church, and Kevin noted to himself that that was not a subject to pursue.
My sister, me, my brother-in-law, and my nieces all spoke, and then so, so many other people, who told stories of how PQ had influenced them in their lives. He would have liked being celebrated like that. Comrades I had not seen in person for twenty or thirty years. He would undoubtedly have corrected some people's stories.
I love him so much. I miss him so much.
And then, the last day in Lake Geneva I started to feel sick -- it was 12 below, and I had chills all night. My sister asked if I was all right to get on the plane (there was no way we were taking the Amtrak back) and I knew she was pretty desperate to get home.
I had chills on the plane, too, though part of it might also have been low blood sugar. And near the end of the flight, I started coughing a little.
I bet you can see where this is going.
The first thing I did today was take a Covid test. After nearly five years of avoiding it, I have Covid-19. Kaiser jumped right on the Paxlovid. I had to call in to work for tomorrow and Friday and probably Monday and Tuesday, god knows what. And text and email all the parents. And text and email all my fellow teachers. And sleep and have a fever and cough and cough and snot and feel like my brain is swiss cheese, when it was ALREADY fucking trash from grief.
I wanted chicken soup so badly, but had none in the pantry. How is that possible? Anyway, I ordered a caldo -- Tlalpeño, without the verduras... just chicken and spicy broth and avocado and rice.
I've eaten maybe a cup and I think that is it.
I am going to post what I said about my dad and me in my next entry, and then maybe watch a couple of short easy shows on my iPad in bed.
Once we were in Lake Geneva, things were better, though there were too many people to divide one's attention between, by which I really mean my stepmother's family. I am glad they were there to support her. But it was hard to balance than with my sister, my nieces, my brother-in-law, and my aunt, our two cousins, and Pete's wife and two kids, who don't know Mary's family at all. And Mary's family is nice... but nothing like mine. More money. Mennonites. A little bossy towards Mary and a little condescending towards us. The sister of Mary's I feel the closest to couldn't come because of her own health.
The service was really good, to the extent that I was able to stay there and not just zone out into tears. 200 people, and the revolutionary marxists let it all hang out and offered memories that left the local Lake Genevans at the very least nonplussed.
My dad's friend, mentee (SO MANY people who thought of his as a mentor in their lives...) co-worker at the Northwestern University Archives and eventual successor there gave the eulogy and it was really wonderful. He is one of the kindest most decent people I've ever known, and also terribly funny. The two of them were like a double act at Northwestern.
Kevin told about how he met my dad when he was an undergraduate researching for a paper, and when he signed in to the Archives users' book, PQ looked at it and said "Kevin B. Leonard?" Kevin BARRY Leonard? Your folks are Irish nationalists?" No one had ever instantly deduced that. They got on like a house on fire after that, but Kevin did make some assumptions of his own, and he asked my dad "where he went to Mass"? PQ growled and went into a rant about the medieval superstition of the Catholic Church, and Kevin noted to himself that that was not a subject to pursue.
My sister, me, my brother-in-law, and my nieces all spoke, and then so, so many other people, who told stories of how PQ had influenced them in their lives. He would have liked being celebrated like that. Comrades I had not seen in person for twenty or thirty years. He would undoubtedly have corrected some people's stories.
I love him so much. I miss him so much.
And then, the last day in Lake Geneva I started to feel sick -- it was 12 below, and I had chills all night. My sister asked if I was all right to get on the plane (there was no way we were taking the Amtrak back) and I knew she was pretty desperate to get home.
I had chills on the plane, too, though part of it might also have been low blood sugar. And near the end of the flight, I started coughing a little.
I bet you can see where this is going.
The first thing I did today was take a Covid test. After nearly five years of avoiding it, I have Covid-19. Kaiser jumped right on the Paxlovid. I had to call in to work for tomorrow and Friday and probably Monday and Tuesday, god knows what. And text and email all the parents. And text and email all my fellow teachers. And sleep and have a fever and cough and cough and snot and feel like my brain is swiss cheese, when it was ALREADY fucking trash from grief.
I wanted chicken soup so badly, but had none in the pantry. How is that possible? Anyway, I ordered a caldo -- Tlalpeño, without the verduras... just chicken and spicy broth and avocado and rice.
I've eaten maybe a cup and I think that is it.
I am going to post what I said about my dad and me in my next entry, and then maybe watch a couple of short easy shows on my iPad in bed.
