11.5.02 dissertation

Byron was almost finished with his PhD two years ago when our finances went into death watch mode: we were so broke, we didn't know how we would pay the next mortgage payment, or eat, or catch up on looming utility bills.

His department bought him tickets for a conference in Texas; I dug up some respectable clothes for him and handed over our last ten dollars. Somehow, he would have to find a job, any job. It didn't matter too much what it was, we were willing to move, we just needed the money desperately. I asked Trixie for advice from his birth chart and she told me that all would be well; I asked Ariel what to do and she said that I had to give thanks for prosperity yet to come. I clasped my hands together, paced around the house, finished edits on the book, and worried my way toward believing that everything would be fine.

He attended the conference and saw some friends and one night he went out dancing with some people from Sweden who had tried to recruit him in the past. They asked again, and he said no; Sweden is cold, and my ancestors left Northern Europe for a reason. The Swedes persisted. They asked what it would take, and he said that he wanted to stay in Portland, formal permission to publish, and full insurance. They said okay and he blinked and that was the deal.

Byron put aside his doctoral thesis and went to work for a Swedish start-up. I found him a great office above Reading Frenzy and he set about earning money to rescue the family finances and give my faltering business an infusion of cash. Because of the Swedish job, I was able to travel and do research and pay some crucial bills. We had enough money to buy fresh vegetables, paint the living room, and even get a thermostat for the house. When the couple hundred dollars for my book came in, it was surplus and I was finally able to retire our ancient, ailing Honda and buy a twenty-year old beater Volvo.

Two years passed and Byron did the respectable and proper thing: he worked hard and we dealt with all the accumulated bills from our years of student poverty. We visited our extended families. The dissertation was neglected and occasionally lamented, but full-time industry jobs are incredibly taxing. He worked twelve hour days, traveled frequently, took calls from Europe in the middle of the night. His cell phone never stopped ringing, and there were days when he sat typing at his terminal with a head set connected to one phone and the cell pressed to the other ear. He didn't have time to read a newspaper, let alone do academic work.

When the Swedes pulled out of Portland he accepted another job and we moved to Seattle. It wasn't necessarily important to his new employer that he have a PhD but the prospect of completing that much research and then bailing on the documentation was ridiculous. It became a priority to finish. He set a date, made the plans, and did it.

Yesterday he defended his dissertation to his faculty committee, and passed.

The kids screamed congratulations Dr. Daddy! over the phone.

Byron is the sweetest, smartest, nicest fellow ever, and he deserves endless thanks and admiration for all the hard work over these many years.

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