Dada 4 Real

In the morning Jacq and I trade off who gets out of bed to play with little Sophia, who unfortunately now gets up at 6:30am. This morning it was my turn to sleep in. Jacq brought Sophia into the bedroom to wake me for our morning walk with Otis, and Sophia squealed “Dada” while reaching out her arms towards me.

What an amazing way to wake up.


Sophia said dada this week, although she hasn’t quite seemed to have connected it to me. That will come, and I’ve got to assume that once it does it will feel great. Still, just hearing her say dada is one of those feelings you never knew you could have and realize that it just gets better everytime. Except, of course, when she wakes up at 3a.m. and repeats dadadadadad over and over again until she falls back asleep or I muster the strength to turn off the monitor and close her door.

Blood Doping

Yesterday I paid my every-six-week-check-up-for-now visit to Steve Schuster, oncologist extraordinaire. Everything is fine, and my physical recovery seems just about complete (although I cannot say the same for my mental recovery. The days leading up to the check up are very stressful, and Jacqui has to tape my hands together to stop me from poking at every square inch of my body in the hunt for an errand lymph node).

Schuster commented on my hemoglobin levels being so robust, and even jokingly accused me of doping my blood. So today I am packing my bags and heading for the south of France where another young cancer survivor won six consecutive Tour de France. Anyone have a bike I can borrow?

Gerald Gill, I Miss You

My college mentor, my friend, and my colleague Gerald Gill died of a heart attack last week at home in Cambridge. I am at a loss for words, and can only say that he had a singular influence on my life. That it is because of him I became an historian and scholar–his passion for history and dedication to his students were a life changing example for me that I have tried to emulate. That he made me, and all of those who knew him, better people–his personal example of loving-kindness and decency were striking to all who met him. And that he gave me faith that we could together create a better world, that despite our own varied struggles we could come together in community.

Gerald, your loss leaves a hole in all of the lives that you touched. We can only strive to live up to the standards you set. I will miss you terribly, always.

This photo was taken the day of my graduation from Tufts, May 20, 1990. In the photo, from left to right, are Seth Krevat, Gerald Gill, Robin Rosencrantz, and me.