A time to be born and a time to die

[scarlettina]

It's been that kind of week-and-a-half. I posted briefly about the death of my brilliantly gifted cousin St. Martins VP Matt Shear while I was in New York. While I was traveling, we all received the wonderful news that mrdorbin and southplains became the fathers of a beautiful baby girl. And then this week, in rapid succession, we lost both the brilliant and gentlemanly author Frederik Pohl and the brilliant, ebullient, and fierce author and author's advocate Ann Crispin. When mortality hits, it hits hard.

I'm grateful to have known, even at a warm-acquaintance distance, Ann Crispin. My introduction to her work was inauspicious. I received her book, Yesterday's Son, as a gift from my cousin Eric, who wasn't fond of her as a person (they were coworkers) but who knew I was a Star Trek fan. She autographed the book to me for him, nevertheless, but he colored my initial perception of her with his presentation. When I finally met her, she was a large, enthusiastic, energetic presence, and I liked her despite my conditioning. That conditioning rapidly dissipated. We were ever close? No. But because her energy was infectious and her smile immediate, every meeting was like meeting an old friend all over again. The last time I saw her, I ran into her completely unexpectedly at the Museum of Natural History in NYC a couple of Christmases ago. We chatted quickly and with great energy in that massively confused crowd, and I regretted that the visit was so brief. I'm glad to have had it at all.

I met Fred Pohl at the very first Foolscap. He was there as one of the two guests of honor. (The other was Ginjer Buchanan, creating an automatic theme for the weekend.) He was gracious to everyone, generous with his time, and he dazzled this fan, who had read his novel Gateway (and the other Heechee books) very early on in her history as an SF reader.

I haven't said much about Matthew's death because it's a complicated thing for me. Matt was my first cousin and, like all my cousins but one, older than me--some by a decade and more. As adults, the age difference shouldn't have made a difference, but as children, 6 years was an uncrossable chasm. And so, growing up, I suspect he always thought of me as a kid, and I always thought of him as part of the older-cousin cohort. It meant that our relationship was well-intentioned but not close. The peculiar thing is that it might have been and never was. He was already an officer at Bantam when I started in publishing. I never talked about our relationship with coworkers because I wanted my career to be my own, and I didn't spend any time with him for the same reason. But given that we both loved books and the business, we might have been closer. It just . . . never happened. My family had started to disintegrate after my mother's death. With the death of Matt's father (my mother's brother) it shattered completely. Once I left for Seattle, my only ties were my brother and my cousin E--and that's pretty much how it stayed. So when I got the news of Matthew's death from a publishing friend--and I happened to be in New York--I knew I had to go to the funeral to pay my respects and try to reconnect with that side of the family.

I did not anticipate the welcome I received. My aunt dissolved into tears when she saw my brother and me. My cousin S, Matt's sister, did as well, saying that I looked about 16. I was moved in ways I hadn't expected. After the service, my aunt and my cousin and I spent hours talking. In the end, though Matt and I weren't close, he brought me back to family.

I have a lot more I want to say about all this, but I have more processing to do. I don't know how things are going to play out with that side of the family from here. I hope we can continue to be in touch. My aunt is in her early 80s and at this point I suspect her time is limited though she looks good and seems to get around well. My cousin S and I have lived very different lives, but I want to try to find some commonality with her.

Like I said, I have more thinking to do. Mortality will do that to you.

Comments

[lagilman]

I did not know that you and Matt were cousins! I only worked with hi briefly and at a remove (as-you-know-Bob, everyone has worked with everyone else at some point in publishing) but his death was a real shock.

I had the advantage, if you will, of knowing that Ann had been battling cancer for some time now, and got to spend time with her, but... I've known her half my life, and it still wasn't long enough. She was an easy person to like, an occasionally difficult person to work with, and beneath it all a good soul who deserved a longer stay on this earth.

[scarlettina.livejournal.com]

I did not know that you and Matt were cousins!

As noted, that was by design. The only people who knew were Betsy Mitchell and, as it turned out, Barbara Alpert (and I don't know how Barb knew). I didn't want anyone to think that I'd taken any advantage of family connection; that was, perhaps, a little too much of a concern for me. I could analyze it to death now, but there's no point.

As for his illness (lung cancer), his wife Sabrina told me he'd made a point to keep it private. No one who wasn't immediate family knew he was ill until about 6 months ago.

I knew that Ann had been dealing with cancer for a while. I just never understood that she was terminal. And yes, my experience with her was that she was occasionally difficult, too. But as you say, underneath it: goodness.

[lagilman]

I knew that Ann had been dealing with cancer for a while. I just never understood that she was terminal.

She told me a while back that the odds were...glum. But even knowing, it was a gut punch.

Cousins

[the-monkey-king.livejournal.com]

I am fortunate in my cousins, in that they are sophisticated charmers and scoundrels. However, they all live far away, and seeing them requires crossing the Atlantic.

Growing up, this meant they were very rarely close enough to be anything but a distant group of cheerful people that I was obliged to speak to on the phone sometimes—and then they might turn up for a month one summer, or we might visit them and be intensely close and under their roof for weeks.

They're all settled and busy and wonderful people, and they're all still among us, but I always wish we were closer. So I understand that impulse.

Blood will tell, and ties do bind. I'm cultivating kindness and gratitude among those I can. I hope that connection with the other side of the family does turn out as you wish. I would venture to say they'd be happy to see more of you.

Family is strange.

Re: Cousins

[scarlettina.livejournal.com]

...they are sophisticated charmers and scoundrels.

Their American cousin is much like them in this regard then. Blood tells. :-)

With regard to my cousins, my cousin S told my brother she wants to have him and his family to her place after the Jewish high holidays are over. I want to give her a call at that point and hear more about her life and all. We'll figure it out. Wanting is only relevant when follow-through occurs. Must follow through.

[jaylake.livejournal.com]

Like I said, I have more thinking to do. Mortality will do that to you.

Yes. Yes it will.

I am sorry for your loss, but glad some good came of it.