The Best Thing I Ever Wrote

Teach me something, I said to my father in one of our frequent phone calls after his diagnosis. By then, I knew his days were numbered. I was an assistant professor in the Midwest, not visiting as often as I should.

I’m working hard on a book right now, so I’m putting up an old piece. A visit from a former colleague made me think about how I think. Not just what I think but *how I think, and how much it is related to how my father thought. My father was an astronomer whereas I was distinctly horrible at science and math. And yet we shared an analytical framework, his expressed in his area of expertise, mine in mine.

He’s been gone almost 24 years and I still miss him as much as you miss anyone who is a part of you forever, but you still can’t call.

I wrote this piece about my attempt to understand him—posthumously—by going through the archives of his work held at Columbia University where he used to teach. I think it’s still the best thing I’ve ever written. If you’re not in my field, I’d advise skipping the first few paragraphs that are field specific.

Enjoy the ride. Oppenheimer freaks, there are Easter eggs in here for you:

https://enculturation.net/pooka-of-literacy