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So this is cool…
###
I was disappointed when Steven didn’t follow up last spring. I was really attracted to him. For me, that type of attraction is rare.
He’s my cousin’s cousin. One of the three rangy K________ brothers whose adventures I heard about for years through the extended family network, though I’d never met them.
I remember shopping at the mall in Capitola with Alicia once for – what? Socks? Energy bars? Something. Steven had been deployed to Iraq, and she was sending him a care package.
We finally met at Rik’s memorial service last spring.
###
“You’re the writer?” asked the K________ brother.
“I am,” I said.
“I’ve heard about you from time to time.”
“Likewise,” I said.
“Do you know the story of Jay during World War II?”
“I don’t,” I said.
He nodded. “Jay invented the field of operational research.”
“But wasn’t he trained as a chemist?”
“He was. He was a smart man. Had a steely mind for details. And it occurred to him that by knowing how much fuel a German submarine had to use, how many men were on board, and how much they would have to eat, and projecting that on to a grid, one could more or less predict where the German submarines would be and send one’s own forces out to destroy them. And Jay’s theories and predictions became the basis for a successful search and destroy operation.
“But that was the problem: It was too successful. Jay did the math and realized that his theory could only account for the destruction of submarines at a 65% success rate but that the submarines were actually being destroyed with a 90% success rate. Something else was going on; something that Jay wasn’t being told about.”
“Alan Turing!” I said. Because, of course, I’d seen the movie. “Enigma!”
He nodded. “Exactly. And, you know, Jay was being given lots and lots of publicity for his successful submarine strategy. Mom, Rik, and Hazel got round-the-clock Secret Service protection. They were the public face so that no one would suspect that Enigma was happening. And when Jay found out, he got furious and threatened to reveal everything.”
“Wow,” I said. “So Jay was Alan Turing’s beard!”
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Interesting? It’s a John LeCarre novel!”
“Isn’t it, though. Katherine told me she finally found Jay's Congressional Medal of Freedom when she was cleaning out the Spruce Street house. I think it was shoved inside a copy of “Trout Fishing in America.”"
We beamed at each other. On impulse, I held up the memorial program and blotted out the lower part of his face. “Pretty amazing,” I said. “You have Rik’s eyes. Exactly Rik’s eyes. Really, really blue. Really, really luminous. Hazel’s eyes.”
He smiled at me.
Steven, I thought. He’s Steven.
###
So, last night I was trying to figure out how June meets the Hasid who becomes her One True Love after years of folie a deux with Henry Miller. Having a tough time with that, too, ‘cause you know, phylacteries, sidelocks, and Shtreimels ain’t sexy. I was also simultaneously trying to figure out the Blackburns’ shared responsibility payment, after defiantly refusing to buy healthcare insurance in 2015 under the relentless concordances of the Affordable Care Act, since I was also studying for my Tax-Aide recertification test, which I really have to take today.
And I noticed that someone had IMed me earlier that day:
How's it going?
I don't have your phone or emailing address
Your FB posts are always interesting!
Who the fuck is this? I think furiously. I didn’t recognize the phone number. I imagined some troll with an Internet connection. Sitting beneath a bridge because in my mind, trolls always sit under bridges.
Who is THIS? I ask.
My bad, the person types back. Steven K________ in Virginia.
Whoa.
###
We proceed to spend two hours in an IM marathon, chatting about everything from Michael Lewis, Moneyball, the creation of wealth, project management, and regression analysis to self-esteem, bad mothers, the difficulty of being an intelligent woman, and how to charm people to one’s own manipulative advantage.
Finally around midnight, I IM, I’m getting sleepy. I’m really glad you IMed me!
OK. I’m off to bed too. Love to see you soon sometime.
So I am thinking he will be paying a visit to the brother who lives in NYC at the end of this month. (Brother is a Managing Director at the world’s largest asset manager and lives in oh-so-tony and oh-so-different-than-it-was-when-I-was-growing-up-in-Manhattan Battery Park.)
And that we will meet up.
And spend an amazing day tromping around the city, having adventures.
I’m not quite old enough to be his mother, but I am old enough to have been his babysitter, so I’m not sure where it goes from there. If it goes from there. He’s a really pretty, pretty man.
###
Anyway, that’s why I can’t be attracted to people I meet through Internet dating sites. There’s just no context, no shared mythology, to plug into.
Which is not to disparage Internet dating sites, by the way. They work really, really well for lots of people I hold in high esteem.
They just don't work for me.
###
In other news, I also had a long, mostly amiable phone chat with Max last night.
“So just how embarrassing am I anyway when you take me out in public?” I asked him at one point.
“Well, that depends upon a number of different factors, Mom,” Max said. “The situation. My mood. Your mood. The mood of random bystanders. Etcetera.”
BUZZZZZ – wrong answer.
The right answer would have been: Oh, Mom. You’re never embarrassing. You’re always a joy to be around, freely sharing the distilled wisdom of your many years, leavened with biting humor and profound insight. You’re kind. You’re generous-hearted. You’re brilliant.
Kind of pissed me off that he didn’t get that exam question right.
So I immediately texted Ben: Both my kids find me eccentric and embarrassing. Why did I bother having children, I wonder?
Saywhaaa? That's not true, came the text back, and then I realized: Omigawd, I texted Robin by mistake!
Fortunately, Robin was inclined to find this pretty hilarious. We chatted by text for a few minutes and signed off affectionately.
###
I really hate talking to people on phones, but I really love texting with people. I guess that’s the writerly bias.
###
I was disappointed when Steven didn’t follow up last spring. I was really attracted to him. For me, that type of attraction is rare.
He’s my cousin’s cousin. One of the three rangy K________ brothers whose adventures I heard about for years through the extended family network, though I’d never met them.
I remember shopping at the mall in Capitola with Alicia once for – what? Socks? Energy bars? Something. Steven had been deployed to Iraq, and she was sending him a care package.
We finally met at Rik’s memorial service last spring.
###
“You’re the writer?” asked the K________ brother.
“I am,” I said.
“I’ve heard about you from time to time.”
“Likewise,” I said.
“Do you know the story of Jay during World War II?”
“I don’t,” I said.
He nodded. “Jay invented the field of operational research.”
“But wasn’t he trained as a chemist?”
“He was. He was a smart man. Had a steely mind for details. And it occurred to him that by knowing how much fuel a German submarine had to use, how many men were on board, and how much they would have to eat, and projecting that on to a grid, one could more or less predict where the German submarines would be and send one’s own forces out to destroy them. And Jay’s theories and predictions became the basis for a successful search and destroy operation.
“But that was the problem: It was too successful. Jay did the math and realized that his theory could only account for the destruction of submarines at a 65% success rate but that the submarines were actually being destroyed with a 90% success rate. Something else was going on; something that Jay wasn’t being told about.”
“Alan Turing!” I said. Because, of course, I’d seen the movie. “Enigma!”
He nodded. “Exactly. And, you know, Jay was being given lots and lots of publicity for his successful submarine strategy. Mom, Rik, and Hazel got round-the-clock Secret Service protection. They were the public face so that no one would suspect that Enigma was happening. And when Jay found out, he got furious and threatened to reveal everything.”
“Wow,” I said. “So Jay was Alan Turing’s beard!”
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Interesting? It’s a John LeCarre novel!”
“Isn’t it, though. Katherine told me she finally found Jay's Congressional Medal of Freedom when she was cleaning out the Spruce Street house. I think it was shoved inside a copy of “Trout Fishing in America.”"
We beamed at each other. On impulse, I held up the memorial program and blotted out the lower part of his face. “Pretty amazing,” I said. “You have Rik’s eyes. Exactly Rik’s eyes. Really, really blue. Really, really luminous. Hazel’s eyes.”
He smiled at me.
Steven, I thought. He’s Steven.
###
So, last night I was trying to figure out how June meets the Hasid who becomes her One True Love after years of folie a deux with Henry Miller. Having a tough time with that, too, ‘cause you know, phylacteries, sidelocks, and Shtreimels ain’t sexy. I was also simultaneously trying to figure out the Blackburns’ shared responsibility payment, after defiantly refusing to buy healthcare insurance in 2015 under the relentless concordances of the Affordable Care Act, since I was also studying for my Tax-Aide recertification test, which I really have to take today.
And I noticed that someone had IMed me earlier that day:
How's it going?
I don't have your phone or emailing address
Your FB posts are always interesting!
Who the fuck is this? I think furiously. I didn’t recognize the phone number. I imagined some troll with an Internet connection. Sitting beneath a bridge because in my mind, trolls always sit under bridges.
Who is THIS? I ask.
My bad, the person types back. Steven K________ in Virginia.
Whoa.
###
We proceed to spend two hours in an IM marathon, chatting about everything from Michael Lewis, Moneyball, the creation of wealth, project management, and regression analysis to self-esteem, bad mothers, the difficulty of being an intelligent woman, and how to charm people to one’s own manipulative advantage.
Finally around midnight, I IM, I’m getting sleepy. I’m really glad you IMed me!
OK. I’m off to bed too. Love to see you soon sometime.
So I am thinking he will be paying a visit to the brother who lives in NYC at the end of this month. (Brother is a Managing Director at the world’s largest asset manager and lives in oh-so-tony and oh-so-different-than-it-was-when-I-was-growing-up-in-Manhattan Battery Park.)
And that we will meet up.
And spend an amazing day tromping around the city, having adventures.
I’m not quite old enough to be his mother, but I am old enough to have been his babysitter, so I’m not sure where it goes from there. If it goes from there. He’s a really pretty, pretty man.
###
Anyway, that’s why I can’t be attracted to people I meet through Internet dating sites. There’s just no context, no shared mythology, to plug into.
Which is not to disparage Internet dating sites, by the way. They work really, really well for lots of people I hold in high esteem.
They just don't work for me.
###
In other news, I also had a long, mostly amiable phone chat with Max last night.
“So just how embarrassing am I anyway when you take me out in public?” I asked him at one point.
“Well, that depends upon a number of different factors, Mom,” Max said. “The situation. My mood. Your mood. The mood of random bystanders. Etcetera.”
BUZZZZZ – wrong answer.
The right answer would have been: Oh, Mom. You’re never embarrassing. You’re always a joy to be around, freely sharing the distilled wisdom of your many years, leavened with biting humor and profound insight. You’re kind. You’re generous-hearted. You’re brilliant.
Kind of pissed me off that he didn’t get that exam question right.
So I immediately texted Ben: Both my kids find me eccentric and embarrassing. Why did I bother having children, I wonder?
Saywhaaa? That's not true, came the text back, and then I realized: Omigawd, I texted Robin by mistake!
Fortunately, Robin was inclined to find this pretty hilarious. We chatted by text for a few minutes and signed off affectionately.
###
I really hate talking to people on phones, but I really love texting with people. I guess that’s the writerly bias.
