Chapter 2 - My Father

My father was extremely gifted truly one of the worlds brilliant intellects and mathematicians of his time. He was a loyal to a fault and an amazing provider of a family. In his dedication to maintaining ALL his relationships, ALL over the world -- family, friends, and colleagues -- he used every spare moment to write letters. The plastic bag of postcards, envelopes, and stamps never left his side as he ventured around the world.

But I also believe he never had a moment of peace. His work and letter writing was driven to excess by the wartime feelings, emotions, and memories that would well up if he stopped for an instant, if he paused not to ponder a problem, but how he felt about something. He needed to be with people all the time and when alone with the trauma of his past it was always too much too bear.

In my heart of hearts I do not think that he ever processed that trauma and that is the legacy passed on to his kids -- or at least me...I cannot speak for my brother and sister. It has always been hard for me to just sit by myself without. I usually engage in something that I consider productive. It is really easy to turn to that productivity and into an obsession for the purpose of distraction. It requires constant vigilance to not do that.