From a Friend in Jerusalem

 Today I got an email from my friend Martin, a physics colleague who lives in Jerusalem, and with whom I serve on board of an organization that holds a biennial conference. Like me, he makes his living with computers, in this case as a professor teaching computer programming to male students at one of the universities in that famous ancient city.

He wanted to know if I was still on board with submitting an article to the proceedings for our conference last year. The article was not to be about physics research, but a memorial to my advisor, the late William C. Schieve of the University of Texas, who passed away last year at age 91 in his home in Fredricksburg, which is out in the Texas hill country. 

He had retired there. years ago. I last saw him in 2012 when I went down to Austin for his retirement banquet. It was a grand affair at the alumni center, as it honored multiple retirees. All of the famous names of the department that I recognized---the ones that were still living---were in attendance. 

It was the first time I had been back to Austin since leaving for New York 1999. So much had changed. I was stunned as I drove down Lamar Avenue to see the new skyline of downtown looming above me, as if encountering a completely different city.

I knew at the time that it would probably be the last time I saw my old advisor and co-author. I was grateful that he lived as long as he did, until last September, and that I was able to send him Christmas cards and letters.

My career in physics following my time in Austin was probably a disappointment, one for which he partially blamed himself. He never understood why I didn't get the research appointment in Berlin that he was sure I would get with his help and connections. But I could have gone to Maryland and worked for NASA in 1999, if that had been my path. I had a clear shot at that, given the articles I had published. I chose not to do so. I didn't want to go back and live in suburban Washington, D.C. or the Baltimore area. ]

I wanted to go to New York and leave academia at the time. I wanted to dive into the "real world" and get knocked around by it, which is what happened. I often wander what would have happened, if I have pursued that opportunity with NASA and moved to Maryland. It was the second time in my life that I turned down the chance to pursue a life centered in Washington, D.C.

As I told my dentist the other day, as he asked me questions about my career, I said the experience reminded me of something Kurt Vonnegut had writtten: "Any man can call time out, but no man can say how long the time out will be."

Martin had asked me to write the memorial about Schieve as he was one of the founders of the organization in 1998, when we had our first conference, in the conference room of a motel in the suburbs of Houston. It was next to a miniature golf course. I mentioned this to my advisor during the conference and he suggested we go next door and play a round. I have always regretted that I turned down the offer. It would have made for splendid memory with him.

Martin was at that original conference as well, as a graduate student. His advisor was one of the other co-founders of our organization, the esteemed Professor Larry Horwitz, whose work with Schieve on relativistic dynamics was the basis for nearly all of my own published work in physics.

As it happened, life events distracted me in March. I wrote a first draft for the memorial, but I didn't have the gumption and the energy to revise it as I wanted. So I let the deadline pass that Martin had sent out to the conference attendees. I was delighted to hear that I still had three weeks. There is no way I'm going to let the deadline pass this time.