Life, or somehing like it

My family is, by most people's lights, complex. To me, well it's my family, and the oddities acreted, so I didn't have to try to swallow it in one draught.

But the lines of communication (es.p between from my mother) are almost unused (Maia thought I was making it up, about my mother not being able to keep track of me, until the third time she asked Maia for our address; because she didn't have it. So Maia went back to her sent folder, and just sent the information, yet again).

I am the eldest of seven (and no, thought I thank all of you who sent me natal greetings, but apart from the year, that is a fictive birthday. It will do as well as any), and it seems I am twice again an uncle. My little sister (who is the middle child of my siblings) was delivered, by caesarian section, of twin boys.

Never mind that I was completely unaware of her being pregnant. Nor that she and my eldest sister (the ages, for those who care, are, me;37, sister; 36 (with one child, aged... I think 8, but there are many confusions, and without a lot of work I'll probably never know... I told you it was complex), sister; 19, brother; 16, sister; 15, sister; 13, sister; 6. All but the first are half siblings, and not the same halves (which means I will have nieces and nephews, who are not cousins).

New Year's was nice, and worth the drive to Los Angeles for the party.

I spent some time talking to Jerry Pournelle about the mess-in-Potamia, and he aksed me what would fix it, and Lord, but I had an answer... let them have an honest election, and then kick us out.

Neither of us thinks that will happen, and he pointed out why no one will want to (because it's so broken it can't be fixed and the guys who pull us out will be blamed for us losing). Bush-co is even more invested because this was stareted under their aegis, so if we leave and it gets worse, they have to take the, well deserved, blame for not only starting such a cock-up, but for the proof of failure.

After all, Johnson and Nixon are blamed for Viet-nam, some will point to Kennedy, but almost no one points out that Ike was paying the French to not pull out.

At the slow march, with muffled drum

A friend of mine died this morning. About 24 hours after the poker game at the New Year's party he wasn't at ended. His wife was there, and didn't mention that he might be doing poorly, which it seems he wasn't.

Frank Kelly Freas, artist, raconteur, gentleman.

I know his daughter, and as a result, came to know him. It was my pleasure to do him a good turn at a convention (a shipment of a book of his artwork had gone missing, I managed to find it, in a corner of a loading bay, in the bowels of the hotel). Jacqui, his daughter, took me to meet Hal Clement, while Kelly dedicated a copy to me. Since I was still in my mid-teens, the money to buy it was beyond me. More impressive, it was his idea for Jacqui to take me to meet Hal, whom I had only started reading a short time prior.

He was an elfish man, bright of eye; quick of smile. His art is wonderful. From Mad Magazine, to the Skylab Patch. At least one of his paintings was used as a Pink Floyd cover. At conventions one can see his work, from sketches, to cartoons, to the finished product. With warts, and after the surgery.

He of all the people it has been my privilege to know, is one of the few of whom I can say, "I never knew him to do a mean thing."