Fly Free, Prof. Stephen Hawking

The world will miss the tenacity and brilliant intellect of Dr. Stephen Hawking, who died at the age of 76 today. We need more thinkers like him—men and women who can explore the universe with their minds and communicate what they know to the rest of us. He never pretended to have all the answers, but he was relentless in pursuit of knowledge.

My husband and I met Stephen Hawking at an event in Utah some years ago. It was very memorable, particularly the part where he got to fly a flight simulator at Evans & Sutherland. He was grinning like a kid with a huge bag of candy when he came out of the sim. It remains my favorite memory of that weekend.

The day before he flew in the sim, he gave a talk at an arena in SLC. To herald his arrival on stage, they played the segment from Star Trek: The Next Generation when Stephen was playing poker with Data and other famous scientists in the Holodeck. At the end of the video segment, the lights started flashing on stage and Stephen wheeled himself up a ramp to center stage. An incredible roar of approval came from the crowd of 17,000 people. It was one of the most amazing performances and he hadn’t even started giving his presentation.

Stephen Hawking lived his life as fully as he could despite his illness. He shared his knowledge with the world and made more of a positive impression than any public figure in recent history. Social media is filled with comments today by people he inspired. They, too, wanted to know more about the universe and he shared what he knew. I hope that his explorations now take him to new realms of the cosmos.

In Memory of John H. Collins, Jr.

What do you say about a guy who, as a kid, loved to ride his bike up and down the hilly streets of North Boulder, who played tuba in the junior high band, who sang the “Oscar Meyer Weiner” song in harmony with his sisters, who could whistle up a storm, who could take things apart and put them together again, whose nickname was Hobbit, who loved the Tolkien book of the same name, who listened to Meat Loaf and Led Zeppelin, and read Dune? A guy who lived an eccentric life up to the very end?

On Friday, our family will be saying “Good bye” to that guy.

He is my late brother John.

On Facebook today my youngest brother Joe wrote the following about John:

“So, give someone a hug today, lift up a toast for those who have gone before us, and relax knowing that the afterlife has one more shining, if somewhat eccentric star, shining in it tonight.”

We found out this past Monday that John suffered an accidental death — a slip and fall in the shower — alone in his apartment.  The past two days have been very tough as we wrap our heads around the manner of his passing.

The last time he and I talked was a few days before his death. We chatted about our usual favorites: food and music. He was a jalapeño fan and I told him about some peppers we’d had a few days earlier that had burned our mouths off.  He chuckled and teased me about being a wuss. He mentioned that he’d found a vintage Led Zeppelin album at a local store and we reminisced about our mutual appreciation of Led Zeppelin IV.

John was born a few years after me. Like me, as a kid, he was fascinated with the stars.  I remember once being out on the grass with him when we were kids and, like that famous scene in Huckleberry Finn, we sat there and speculated about what the stars were and whether they had been made or just put there.  I remember he used to be fascinated with an object called the “Coal Sack”, which is in the southern hemisphere sky. I don’t think he ever saw it, but he must have read about it somewhere.

I’d like to think that he’s out there checking out the Coal Sack. And, maybe he’s whistling to himself as he used to do.

So, here’s to the memory of our brother John.

The memorial service is Friday John, and we’re hoping it will be as much a celebration of the good parts of the unusual life you led as it is a marking of your passing. We have pictures and poetry about you, John. And hey — maybe we’ll even manage a stanza of the Oscar Meyer Weiner song in your honor.

But,  it won’t be the same without your voice in the harmony.

Here’s to ya, Lad.

Rest in peace.