The year is 1998.
(Glimpses of year 1996)
(Data from Wikipedia.) Lunar Prospector finds enough frozen water near the Moon's poles to support a colony and refuelling station. Galileo probe data show that Jupiter's moon Europa has a liquid ocean under a thick ice crust of ice. Nineteen European nations agree to ban human cloning.
The Iraq disarmament crisis worsens. The Lewinsky scandal leads to Clinton's impeachment, and ultimately, resignation. Unibomber Kaczynski is sentenced to life without possibility of parole. Titanic winds a record 11 Oscars. Google founded by Larry Page and Sergey Brin. School massacres at Springfield, Oregon, and Jonesboro.
Yangtze river flooding disaster. Auckland suffers a 66-day blackout. British police place Pinochet under house arrest. German SPD-Greens and Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder take office. The European Court of Human Rights is instituted, and UK formally abolishes the death penalty.
It's around March of 1998. The vernal equinox* is at hand -- the start of spring in the northern parts of the globe, and traditionally feted as a great occasion to mark the end of winter and to celebrate the regrowth of life.
Towards late 1996, I had accepted a kind of high-tech research work of a socio-political nature that took much of my time away from family. Sophie grew increasingly distant, we had increasing differences in how to raise the kids. Early 1997, she and the kids went away and settled in a distant city. I couldn't follow them, and felt so helpless. The rest of 1997 went like a nightmarish blur. I'm still trying to reconstruct that part of my life.
In March 1998, I had just resigned from this same job, which was eating my life away and pulling me away from family. I was home visiting Mama and Papa, and following up some papers, when my father suffered a cerebral stroke -- his first, but a massive and ultimately fatal one. I was the one who bodily carried him to a waiting taxi (no car was available) and brought him to the hospital.
At the hospital, Papa retained consciousness, but couldn't speak, and had to be assisted by respirator. We handed him pen and paper, and he tried to communicate with squiggles that were barely legible. I also have sketches of him while keeping watch at the ICU.
My sister, brothers and I like to think that Papa gave his whole extended family that grace period of two weeks at the hospital -- enough time for goodbyes. Mama and the four of us were at his bedside when he had difficulties in breathing and went into cardiac arrest. (His lungs, weakened by an old tuberculosis condition and by wartime malaria, finally gave way.)
The doctors tried everything, but Mama refused another round of life-support systems. We all kissed his forehead and pure-white hair, and bid him farewell, that morning of Easter Sunday. We all loved him, and grieved deeply and silently for 30 minutes. Mama prayed. No one of us shed a tear or wailed a cry of loss, not even Mama. We were all brought up that way, stoic about death.
At the wake, Sophie and the kids arrived. We had a very long talk, and made new plans. After the burial, I went with them to this other, distant city, to try and help mend the wounds and rebuild our family.
Sophie and I resumed our long-sought project. But our domestic problems worsened. I felt utterly cooped up, like an eagle in a small cage. My health, formerly in top shape, showed signs of deterioration. My malaria and amoebiasis struck anew like assasins that failed on the first try. Increasingly, Sophie acted like a hostile stranger. And I, a lost and confused man.
Like 1997, the year 1998 went like a nightmarish blur, and I'm still trying sort out what really went wrong.
In March 1998, I had just resigned from this same job, which was eating my life away and pulling me away from family. I was home visiting Mama and Papa, and following up some papers, when my father suffered a cerebral stroke -- his first, but a massive and ultimately fatal one. I was the one who bodily carried him to a waiting taxi (no car was available) and brought him to the hospital.
At the hospital, Papa retained consciousness, but couldn't speak, and had to be assisted by respirator. We handed him pen and paper, and he tried to communicate with squiggles that were barely legible. I also have sketches of him while keeping watch at the ICU.
My sister, brothers and I like to think that Papa gave his whole extended family that grace period of two weeks at the hospital -- enough time for goodbyes. Mama and the four of us were at his bedside when he had difficulties in breathing and went into cardiac arrest. (His lungs, weakened by an old tuberculosis condition and by wartime malaria, finally gave way.)
The doctors tried everything, but Mama refused another round of life-support systems. We all kissed his forehead and pure-white hair, and bid him farewell, that morning of Easter Sunday. We all loved him, and grieved deeply and silently for 30 minutes. Mama prayed. No one of us shed a tear or wailed a cry of loss, not even Mama. We were all brought up that way, stoic about death.
At the wake, Sophie and the kids arrived. We had a very long talk, and made new plans. After the burial, I went with them to this other, distant city, to try and help mend the wounds and rebuild our family.
Sophie and I resumed our long-sought project. But our domestic problems worsened. I felt utterly cooped up, like an eagle in a small cage. My health, formerly in top shape, showed signs of deterioration. My malaria and amoebiasis struck anew like assasins that failed on the first try. Increasingly, Sophie acted like a hostile stranger. And I, a lost and confused man.
Like 1997, the year 1998 went like a nightmarish blur, and I'm still trying sort out what really went wrong.
How about you? Do you recall your situation during the entire year 1998? Especially around the time of the vernal equinox? Tell us a bit about your work, your family and home, your biggest problems, the dreams you wanted to reach, during that time.
*Note: The vernal equinox, also called the spring equinox in the Northern hemisphere, marks that point in time each year when the Sun's direct vertical sunlight crosses the equator from south to north. On this date -- which falls variably on March 19, 20 or 21 depending on the year and your location -- the length of night exactly equals the length of day in any place on earth. In other words, this day signals the start of spring in the Northern hemisphere, and the start of autumn in the Southern half of the globe.
