Ever notice how it's the little things in life that amuse us so much? More to the point, ever notice how it's the silly little idiocies in life that amuse us more than anything else? Well, this is not as much ''the little blog that could'' as it is ''the blog that enjoys going up the down escalator in your local mall.'' Will it have anything of real importance? No, probably not. But enjoy the ride never the less!

 
It's not been a good week all around; I'd rather this particular bit of nowhere could just be me griping about the usual ills & ilk that seems to come with Head Office. Things like that are here today to annoy us, but then easily forgotten by tomorrow. I cannot say that is the case right now.

Last Monday saw the passing of one of my best and oldest friends, Hugh Hill. And it's knocked the wind out of my proverbial sails. It's pretty much the reason I've been more reclusive than usual this week.

Hugh was the librarian at EBC, and because of him I met his brother, John, who later on became one of my closest friends and best man at my wedding. I owe the both of them more than I can say--in experiences and humour, in academics and friendship.

Hugh was the kind of guy you wanted to introduce your friends to, because once they met him, you'd go up in their estimates: "Wow, if a guy like Hugh thinks you're decent, I guess you're not as much of a schmuck after all!" He was the kind of person I wanted to become, not in a single white female sort of way, but in the manner he lived his life.

He always had time to listen, to talk and to debate whatever if was you wanted to debate. He held multiple degrees from both Laurier and the U of W, and was more intelligent than I could ever hope to be, and amazingly he never flaunted it. I honestly don't think he ever felt the desire to. He was gentle, kind and always seemed to watch the world with a smile, like he simply understood something we just happened to miss in the moment.

And for anyone who'd think he was a stuffy, antequated librarian, Hugh's sense of humour was dry, witty and razor-sharp. I remember one day where he, John and I were lounging in the library one day, and he & John spontaneously broke out into the opening "migrating swallow" scene from Monty Python & The Holy Grail. And he balanced out his love of rare books, birdwatching and astronomy with playing Resident Evil games. (He'd worked through about three-quarters of RE4.)

A few months ago, John let me know that Hugh had been diagnosed with Amyloidosis. It's rare, it attacks the vital organs and it has no cure. With Hugh, the disease was primarily attacking his heart. Hugh's prognosis was that he'd have anywhere between 2 - 10 years to live, and that was with treatment. Everyone, especially the doctors, were very hopeful and optimistic. Monday was supposed to be his first day of treatment.

Early Monday morning, October 29, 2007, Hugh suffered massive kidney failure and was admitted into the hospital. Two hours later, his heart failed and the world lost one of the coolest librarians it will ever know. I think the suddenness is what still rubs me so raw. By all accounts, Hugh was in decent health and high spirits the day before he died: he was out with friends, attending church and spending it like any other Sunday. A number of his close friends spent the evening in his company...and not twelve hours later, he was gone.

This sort of thing shouldn't happen to someone like Hugh, pure and simple. Hugh's the kind of guy who deserved to see his kids grow up, to see any future grandkids grow up. He wasn't even 50. This is something I don't think I'll ever truly understand, and even if I did, I rather doubt I'd still agree with it in the slightest.

And now...now I'm not sure where that leaves me. I attended the wake and the funeral, and somewhere in between John & I spent the night half-drunk and toasting to good memories amidst blasting the crap out of scary-looking mutants in Bioshock.

The world hasn't crashed to a stop for me. There are still a lot of reasons, a lot of good reasons, to keep moving. But one of its better travellers is no longer there, and I feel lonelier for it, and I think my own walk is going to be a little slower than usual for a while longer.

This isn't a soapbox I'm dragging out to stand atop of and clamour for attention. It's not a rallying cry for an outpouring of condolences. Today's nowhere is as much a marker as I can manage at this moment in time. One day I hope to look back at the date of this entry, and recall more than just the hollow feeling that currently gnaws at my gut.

It's worthwhile to remember the reasons I had to smile around Hugh in the first place, and why I wanted to enjoy his company whenever possible. I'll treasure the sound of his voice, the laughter that would always come about when he & John conspired together, and the way he could imitate John Cleese as the (invincible!) Black Knight. In death, I can at least remember how he lived, and how much my own life was enriched because he was there.

There's an Irish funeral poem that goes:





Good-bye, Hugh.

Labels: Hugh Hill

posted by Phillip at 8:38 PM

 

One week and almost 60 working hours later, I'm sitting here marveling at how this "day off" concept feels. It kind of itches a little. Considering this past week saw the kiosk go in a week early and two same-day funerals amongst the staffers, I'm rather hoping we don't get a repeat of this. Unless it involves an act of God (ie, the kiosk being struck by lightning) or a zombie apocalypse (ie, the kiosk being attacked by zombies).

So far, mind you, the kiosk is doing better than it usually has compared to years past. Sure the frame is bent, the electrical system is suspect (Tom, the miracle repairman, had a few choice and not-child-friendly words to say when he had to practically rewire the kiosk's electrical systems...in the process discovering the guys assembling it all had put in no less than 3 already fried outlets), and the cash drawer needs an extra shove/flying tackle in order for the drawer to actually close. But it's still an improvement.

For now.

After all, it's only been a week.

But other than, all is faring decently enough despite the inherent fatigue. I am enjoying Stephen Hunt's Court of the Air, despite its ability to throw fantasy-historical and -political details at me without any sort of warning or backstory, my tapeworm has been working overtime with at least 2 extra meals needed per day, and The Project has reached the ever-important completion of Phase 1. And Mel is busying herself with geisha cross-stitching and asking me why I feel the need to watch Rocky Horror in the early hours of the morning.

Then again, the reasoning for that is simple: don't dream it, be it. (Or is it: don't dream it, blog it?)


Today's Lesson: the stench of burnt microwave popcorn will linger in your apartment for at least 3 days.

Labels: ie the kiosk being mentioned in the labels, Project rumblings

posted by Phillip at 10:31 AM