Each month, write a new collection.
Dear Steven Hawking,I’d like to thank you for being yourself, for not using electronic media alone to interact with other people while yousit at home, inert and quiet. You continue to meet your students, produce a real enhanced voice so you can talk with them. Young professor Hawking at Cambridge, you went upstairs to the dining hall High Table where you entertained all of your colleagues, including young molecular biologist Joan Steitz, with the brilliance of your conversation. To get to the dining hall, you had to use two canes to ascend the stairs.Later when you could not walk at all, you spoke at Caltech, MIT, Azerbaijan, Moscow. You pursued a travel schedule similar to that of any famous Cambridge professor. And then, on top of your regular physics analysis and research, you wrote books and made TV shows explaining the universe to a lay audience.When I’m tempted to become a permanent chair denizen, it is your example that sends me outside to plant seeds or to Eaton Canyon Nature Reserve to inspect handicapped trails for the Sierra Club. Thank you for your inspiring life.LH
I love this poem and to such a great person too!
Dear Cesar Milan—I don’t suppose I can actually articulatewhat wonders you have done fordog lovers everywhere.You took a language largelyforgotten—no, not forgotten—crowdedout by selfies and mathematic theorems—and showed us how locking eyeswith another being is much stronger than any punch.Your patience with owners is unmatched—a dog biting the owner isn’t a reflectionof his time chained up alone—“They live in the moment”; and a protective stance from a tiny chihuahua is nota sign of love, but possession—“This is my human”.You took large questions from a world preoccupiedwith whyand broke narratives into smaller bits—easier to digestlike kibbles.It’s hard to imagine that someonelike you snuck across our border—that someone like you slept under a freeway bridge—that someonelike you washed dishes for a time—because you knew there was something more than what was available in Mexico.I suppose I’ll never know what your reasons were,but despite all that—in the narrative of your own story—I can rejoice that you came to the USand walked multiple rottweilers, pitbulls and dobermanswith your chest held out and a wittled, wooden, walking stick as your makeshift sceptor.