Family

Update: Finishing Up and Starting Anew

Posted on by Eric Harvey

Partial page from a medieval Hebrew manuscript of the Psalms. The main text is interrupted by an enlarged and stylized

Well, it’s been a long time since I last posted. I guess some years you blog a lot and other years you have an infant, finish a dissertation, and graduate with a PhD in the middle of a global pandemic. Every year is different!

Here’s an update to bring everyone up to speed:

At this time last year, I was finalizing the first few chapters of my dissertation so I could send them to my committee for review.  I had been working on the underlying research for a couple of years already, but the strands didn’t come together into something coherent and submittable until last May. From there, it was less than a year before I sent a complete draft—397 pages of glorious, heavily footnoted nerdery—to my advisors. The date was March 8, and my defense was set for the 20th.

It had been planned out for months. We had conscripted my parents to fly out from Colorado. They would watch the girls, while Kristin and I went back to Boston for the defense, some celebration, and our first trip away without children in more than five years.

But alas, dear reader, it was not to be.

On March 10th my department sent a note that defenses were likely to be virtualized, and to await further guidance. It was still very early in COVID times, and it was the first hint we got that life would start to be affected in the United States. Kristin’s job had recently made work-from-home mandatory, and some of her coworkers in China had not left their apartments in weeks already, but it was still largely business as usual over here.

Needless to say, things did not get better over the next ten days, and so I found myself sitting at my computer before sunrise on the morning of the 20th, defending my dissertation to a committee with members spanning two continents and nine time zones. The circumstances were surreal, but the experience itself was supportive and encouraging. My dissertation passed with enthusiastic support, requiring only a good proofreading and some  formatting corrections before submission.

Now it is done. The final version has been deposited for posterity, my email signature has been appended with the three fateful letters P, h, and D, and…

And, well, I sure picked a doozie of a year to graduate.

As I’m sure several (hundred) emails inform you every day, these are uncertain times—unprecedented times, even! This is very much the case in higher education, as universities have closed down for the semester and are now weighing when, how, and in some cases whether to reopen. Many universities have announced full or partial hiring freezes for the upcoming academic year, and in all likelihood the job market will be especially slim for years. 

So a lot of things are up in the air these days. School is canceled for the kids and we are operating without child care. I’m taking on full-time lead parent duties, though Kristin is taking the lead on their crisis schooling since most of the materials are inaccessible. In the gaps, naps, and evenings I’ll keep on keeping on—writing articles, revising the dissertation, and perhaps even posting around here some more. 

I’m glad to have you along for the ride! Let me know how you’re doing in the comments!

Last Month and Last Year

Posted on by Eric Harvey

A series of butterfly cocoons. Some are still closed, a few are open. A butterfly has just emerged from one of them.

It’s been a quiet month here on the blog, because life outside the blog has been a whirlwind. My parents came into town for two weeks to help me clear some of the last medical and bureaucratic hurdles involved in relocating and getting social services. There’s a lot of bureaucracy involved in going blind—a lot of paperwork and visits to doctors and government buildings, then a lot of waiting, then more visits to doctors and government buildings. My parents graciously ferried me all over the Bay, condensing errands that would have taken me weeks into a few days.

It was the big push at the end of a long year of change. About this time last year my dissertation proposal was accepted by the faculty in my department and I became officially A.B.D. I had already been legally blind for a year before that, but the proposal marked a turning point. It was the last piece of work I was able to complete without radically changing my process to accommodate reduced vision.

And since then? Well, I haven’t made substantial progress on the actual dissertation in almost a year.

It’s not like I’ve been idle. Our family moved across the country and settled in a new town. Kristin started a new job in a new career. Jane turned from a baby into a toddler. I learned Braille and mobility skills, dove deep into accessibility, and developed new workflows for research and writing.

Looking back, it feels like I spent the year in some kind of professional chrysalis, a space that allowed me to process, change, and transform. Now I feel like I can finally return to the work I set out to do in the first place.  It won’t be smooth and easy sailing as a beautiful blind butterfly, but at least I’m ready to start moving forward.

The Value of Photographs

Posted on by Eric Harvey

An image of my daughter at the kitchen table, grinning over her breakfast. She is in striped pajamas and has wild, messy bed-head.

I spent a long time looking at this photograph today. Many minutes, because I had to, and because it was worth it.

Kristin took it at breakfast this morning. I was sitting right there, and I was enjoying the moment, but seeing the photograph was a different experience entirely.

In general, I look at a lot fewer photographs these days. It takes me longer to make sense of what’s going on in them. The colors and lines just won’t resolve into recognizable objects the way they used to. Sometimes it takes a few seconds, or a few minutes before I realize who or what is in a picture.

But there’s a flip side to this, because I don’t see life as quickly as I used to either. It takes time for me to make sense of what I see, for my brain to construct an image out of the faulty and partial information my eyes pass along. And life doesn’t always stick around waiting for me to make sense of it. 

My daughter is a toddler right now, and she doesn’t stick around long enough for almost anything. Sometimes, if the light is just right and at just the right angle, and she moves in just the right way so she’s framed in it perfectly, and of my eyes feel like behaving themselves at just the right moment, I get this clear, fleeting glimpse of her face, and I get to see just how beautiful she is. These moments stick in my mind, but they are rare, and all too brief. I miss so many details so much of the time.

But when Kristin takes a photo like this—a crystal clear, stunning capture of a living moment—The world slows down. It stops, allowing me all the time I need to pore over the scene, working out and appreciating every feature and every nuance. 

I know that a day will come when I won’t be able to see her this way, to know her face in this much detail, even from photographs. And I know that some day after that, I won’t know what she looks like at all.

And I will miss it.

It won’t affect my love for her, or my care for her. I will still play with her and laugh with her and teach her and share life with her. I will know a million things about her that are more important than her physical appearance.

But I will still miss it.

I’ll miss that shining grin and those sparkling  blue eyes, those looks of joy, inquisitiveness, mischief, and wonder.

So for now, I will treasure the photographs, and I will gladly take all the time I need to etch every detail into my mind and into my memory.