In memoriam

Back in 2009, my father made several references to my “Simpsons challenge” in
Through the Sandglass. Having found several tenuous connections to sand, I
cannot tell you how delighted I was, years later, to finally share this clip
with the Sandman:

Thankfully, my dad’s slightly obsessive arenophilia brought to light far more
engaging conversations about geology than most made-for-school film reels
could – I am not including the ever-frustrating “spot the fault line” game on
car trips/hikes by the way.

(My dad and me on Jebel Toubkal. 1995)

Recognizing a fault line, GoogleEarth quizzes, love of a good IPA, complaining
about scrums in rugby union - these are just a few things my father has left
me with and I know that his passions have reached beyond his immediate family.
This concept is beautifully illustrated in an extract from the final poem in
Michel Faber’s Undying: A Love Story :

If I could scan this planet

with X-rays that detect the presence

of your timely interventions,

I’m sure I’d find them

in places you would not expect.

You’re dead. I know. And it is not for me

to show you death is not the end.

But you left lucencies of grace

secreted in the world,

still glowing.

My father was meant to be the keynote speaker at “The Abundance and Scarcity
of Sand” symposium hosted by Atelier NL and MU as part of Dutch Design week in
2017, but died just prior to the event. I want to thank Lonny, Angelique, and
Denis for honouring his dedication to sand and keeping those lucencies
glowing. Below is the link to the symposium and his final talk that I
extracted from his dictaphone.

[http://www.ateliernl.com/lectures/the-abundance-and-scarcity-of- sand](http://www.ateliernl.com/lectures/the-
abundance-and-scarcity-of-sand)

I will never research and write about sand like my dad, but he has left with
me the habit of always carrying plastic bags in my pockets to collect and
catalogue sand on my travels. And his travels continue as my mother and I take
his sand (it is grain size that matters, not mineral content so some of his
ashes are sand) and scatter it on our travels. Next Estonia, then the Gobi –
Michael adventures on….

Comments

Blaize (2018-12-15):

Thank you for the post. I too owe my interest in the natural world, and my habit of traveling with a rock hammer, to my dad.

Richard Bready (2019-01-15):

Many thanks, Kate, this is the best gift of the season, and a marvelous remembrance of a dear friend. We are all greatly beholden to you, and in many ways.
First, of course, for recovering this recording from the dictaphone and getting it to the organizers of Dutch Design week, so that it could fulfill its original purpose. The words of the people there, and their faces, are poignant reminders of Michael’s many dear friends around the world.
Thank you also for sharing their video Through the Sandglass, so that the community of followers here may have the pleasures of these words, this knowledge, these fancies, that voice - so much like the sound of a singing dune: granular, deep, soft, precise.
Foremost, however, strongest and most special, is gratitude for your memories of your times with Michael. Certainly his passions, notably arenophilia, have reached beyond his family - but you are the ones who shared most with him, mostly closely, most variously, most freely - and at impressive altitudes. I hope that you will post photos of your journeys with his substance and essence to Estonia, the Gobi, and points beyond.
And congratulations! on meeting the Simpsons challenge. You’ve proven your point, and it’s very funny. It is good to hear Michael’s laugh again.
P.S. Anyone who encounters a technical problem with the Atelier NL videos should try viewing them with IE; the combination of Windows 10 and Chrome hiccoughs whenever I try it.

Originally published at: https://throughthesandglass.typepad.com/through_the_sandglass/2018/12/in-memorandum.html#comments