Christopher Joseph Gould

Rebecca, you have prompted me to remember your dad's trip to Berkeley when you graduated, moving you out of your apartment and across the country. He was so willing to help with such. Chris was a skilled driver and an easy-going travel companion. Kate, your dad introduced me to much thought provoking literature, some biography, science and philosophy. I am remembering how he would treasure a few select books, one being "The Golden Braid" which dealt unified/compared/contrasted work of Godel, Escher and Bach. I learned from him about Alan Watts the 60s writer/philosopher who lived in Marin County,CA and about Alan Turing, the brilliant scientist/mathematician whose career and life were destroyed because of his homosexuality. And I learned about his beloved Libertarian Party. 
Do you two remember Chris's immediate mastery and fascination with the Rubric cube when it was so popular?

Dear Dad, I dreamed of you last night, over 18 months after your passing. You were alive in my dreams. I was in Turkey, and probably because I had been reading about the imprisonment of intellectuals under Erdogan, I dreamed I was imprisoned. I was desparate to get out. And it was you who drove around the world to get me out of prison. I know you would have done that in real life too. You drove me all the way from Berkeley to New York City to get me set up in my new apartment. You lost sleep over me. You spent countless hours on endless winding highways taking me where I needed to go. And I don't think I ever thanked you. Thank you for loving me. And especially for loving me in ways I could not recognize when I was receiving them. 

On my 1st father's day w/o my dad, I wrote this tribute to him. How I wish I would have had just one more chance to say: 

Happy Father's Day, Dad! Thank you for your love. I regret it took your passing for me to realize how much of my life you lit up alleyways to help me find my way in the dark. I don't know why it can take a blackout to remember where light comes from. 

Thank you for digging my retainer out of a giant dumpster at a greasy diner in Chicago we ate at when I was 8 yrs old, after wrapping it in a napkin that I left the waiter, alongside the crusts of my grilled cheese sandwich--which you had the genius idea to look for in the dumpster and prioritize napkins near crusts to unwrap--who thinks of these things? 

Thank you for turning our laundry room into a dark room to develop your black & white photos of me & my sisters. 

For being the master of dad jokes before they were called that. (Two guys walk into a bar. The 1st one says ouch...)

For teaching me how to play the clarinet, memorize times tables, make strawberry banana smoothies, and stick a needle through a balloon so I could do a magic trick as “Kate the Great” in my 4th grade talent show. (My 1st thought whenever I see WD-40)

For shooting hoops with me on the weekend under the scorching hot Sacramento suburban sun so that I could get ‘most improved player of the year’ award in 2nd grade. 

Thank you for teaching me how to drive in empty parking lots —and congratulating me on getting my license on my 2nd try-- just as if it had been my 1st. 

For instilling in me so much wonder about the world. It took till your passing for me to realize that is what you were doing when instead of a 'normal' bedtime story you would read to me from "The Lives of a Cell" by Lewis Thomas. 

You often referred to Lewis Thomas' revelation that disease so often happens not because of the outside attack on our cells, but because of how our own cells respond--often overreact--to such attacks. 

I didn't realize you were not just teaching me biology--but about life. 

For that way that your eyes beamed with pride for various milestones even when those milestones marked career choices of mine that have been directly at odds with your own political beliefs that you cared so passionately about.  

For cheering me on on the work I did on legislation that you were diametrically opposed to politically, and campaign for candidates you would never vote for. For teaching me that the essence of politics is an exchange of ideas about how to transform the world.

Thank you for reminding me how big the world is--like a cell, with humans just one teeny part of it. I read Lewis Thomas again today, remembering how you tried to explain how own bodies aren't just our own, and not just singular thing. You explained to me how our bodies are full of trillions of organisms formed by the fusion of ancient cells. 

Thank you for teaching me the power of love, which can unearth a retainer in a big city dumpster, and live on long past the time our bodies are on this planet, and will live on in the mitochondria in our own DNA that was, after all, formed by exploding stars.

Christopher Joseph Gould was above all a lover of questions. He was curious about everything, from the creation of the world to the biology of bread. He had a good sense of humour, and his wit was sometimes caustic. Deeply interested in politics, he was never a partisan, and was always keen to understand all sides of an issue.