The First and Only EdCon
I was getting ready to go to a memorial service today when I noticed
this weird, bitter taste in my mouth. I brushed again, drank water,
chewed gum - nothing helped.
So naturally, I thought "well, it probably means I'm about to stroke out and die. I should hurry up and get to the service so someone can call 9-1-1 for me." (If anyone's looking for the secret sauce of my life, there it is: gratuitous anxiety + can-do pragmatism.)
Anyway, the service was for Ed Dravecky, the much-beloved confather of WhoFest, FenCon, ORAC, and more fannish organizations than you can shake a sonic screwdriver at. The memorial was called EdCon (of course!), and it truly was a grand convention: food, panels, open mic, wonderful tributes all around. Over 150 people packed in to every corner - standing room only. (Let me tell you: you haven't seen nerd-love until you've seen a man so overcome that he gives up eulogizing with one hand over his eyes, and the other lifted in a "live long and prosper" Vulcan salute.)
And like... you guys. I'll never be as infinitely knowledgeable as Ed, or as well-read, or as massively in love with indoor soccer. His accomplishments can't belong to anyone else. But my god, I want to be that good. I want to be that inspiring, that well-remembered - I want to be a uniter and a doer and a big-hearted, infinitely-patient touchstone of human warmth and kindness. *I want to be that guy.*
So naturally, I thought "well, it probably means I'm about to stroke out and die. I should hurry up and get to the service so someone can call 9-1-1 for me." (If anyone's looking for the secret sauce of my life, there it is: gratuitous anxiety + can-do pragmatism.)
Anyway, the service was for Ed Dravecky, the much-beloved confather of WhoFest, FenCon, ORAC, and more fannish organizations than you can shake a sonic screwdriver at. The memorial was called EdCon (of course!), and it truly was a grand convention: food, panels, open mic, wonderful tributes all around. Over 150 people packed in to every corner - standing room only. (Let me tell you: you haven't seen nerd-love until you've seen a man so overcome that he gives up eulogizing with one hand over his eyes, and the other lifted in a "live long and prosper" Vulcan salute.)
And like... you guys. I'll never be as infinitely knowledgeable as Ed, or as well-read, or as massively in love with indoor soccer. His accomplishments can't belong to anyone else. But my god, I want to be that good. I want to be that inspiring, that well-remembered - I want to be a uniter and a doer and a big-hearted, infinitely-patient touchstone of human warmth and kindness. *I want to be that guy.*
The real
shame is that Ed didn't get nearly enough innings. He was only 47. If I
make it as long as he did, that gives me 14 more years to live up to his
example.
Challenge accepted.
#ThisOnesForEd
(Also, the weird taste in my mouth is gone now. No guarantees, but I reckon I have at least a 50-50 chance of surviving the night.)
Challenge accepted.
#ThisOnesForEd
(Also, the weird taste in my mouth is gone now. No guarantees, but I reckon I have at least a 50-50 chance of surviving the night.)