Category Archives: fatherhood

First day of fall

My child is blessed to be born near the fall equinox, and so I found myself lying in the basket swing of his new swingset (a birthday present) yesterday morning, enjoying the first cool whether of the year, while he happily chattered and repeatedly ascended and descended his slide when a peculiar thing happened. I imagined that he might slide these tiny wooden cars he has down the slide where they would fly off into the grass, perhaps be to be forgotten, their tiny chrome hubcaps becoming flecked with minute patches of rust over which a finger could pass and feel a slight texture.

I’m tempted to say that this idle image became peculiarly vivid in my mind as I swung back and forth looking at the sky, but that is not accurate. It is more accurate to say that the image became suffused with a sense significance quite larger than the things in it and, in any case, disjoint from them. As though I was staring at a key or a door the use of which would remove me radically from the context in which I was currently living and transport me elsewhere, like closing a particularly engrossing book and being surprised to return to an entirely distinct sequence of events: your own life.

“Want to play in the sandbox,” Felix said, and so I got up to open it for him and, very gradually, the sensation diminished.

Black Hole Information Paradox

A Cafe I visit routinely on my morning commute exploded yesterday. We also took pictures of a black hole for the first time. My son used his potty for the first time.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the crazy confluence of scales which intersected in my life yesterday. On our weekly date, Shelley asked me about the long term structure and fate of the universe. Hard not to think, absurd as it is, about my own child careening into the future. Is some distant descendant going to look out the window at an earth which can barely support life on account of the increase in solar radiation or suffer some other painful sense of final detachment from the universe?

The owner of the cafe died in the explosion. I talked to him on Monday when I stopped to get a tea on the way to work. Now that impression of a friendly old man framed by the accoutrements of a bustling cafe has taken on a hyper-reality, like the morning light streaming in from the windows as the sun came up over the buildings across the street really was the excitation of a mysterious quantum field. One characterized by nothing more or less than handful of symmetry relations which ascended picoseconds after the universe began and whose reign will still be absolute when the universe is nothing but black holes and the distant, cooling, cosmic horizon.