Only Spring: on
mourning the death of my son
by Gordon Livingston, M.D.
"Deeper than the silence of death is the fear of forgetting."
Jacket text:
The loss of my son has illuminated for me the true definition of love: the giving
of oneself, body and spirit, to another. His death, like that of any child, is a story of
withered hopes and unfulfilled dreams. In this book, I have tried to capture a few remembered
strains of the brief, glad music of his life. These are all I have of him now, and they
comfort me even as they break my heart.
The loss of a child is every parent's most unspeakable fear. Gordon Livingston survived that
tragedy not once but twice in successive years. His story, etched here in lyrical prose, will
touch the heart of every man and woman who knows the singular intensity of a child's love and
the rare strength it can inspire.
Livingston, a psychiatrist and writer, lost two of his sons—one to suicide, the other
to leukemia. Only Spring, the journal he began keeping when the family was given
six-year-old Lucas's diagnosis, traces the excruciating ordeal of witnessing his child's
courageous battle and the agonizing cycle of faith lost and regained as Livingston begins to
heal from Lucas's death.
Crafted in a present-moment narrative barreling toward its inexorable climax, the journal
carries us through stretches of hope, torment, and even joy as Livingston, his wife, Clare,
and family watch Lucas's condition fluctuate and ultimately decline, and then begin to
rebuild their lives without him. Despite his medical training, Livingston finds himself
terrifically ill-equipped for the emotional anguish and helplessnss he feels as he tries to
hold himself and his family together. Yet this heartbreakingly beautiful account of his
struggle to maintain hope and strength—first for Lucas and then for himself—has a
poignant irony. For it is from Lucas that Livingston gains real strength and learns that love
is the ultimate act of faith.
As a memorial, Only Spring will introduce you to a remarkable child whose legacy
of love and hope can enrich us. As a portrait of survival, it will infuse us with the strength
and faith to confront the greatest challenges in our lives.
Note: I've linked the above to Amazon.com so that you can read the comments
and reviews of the book, but it looks like they won't have copies available for a while.
The best way to order Only Spring is it order it
directly from Dr.
Livingston.
Two years ago, I was at a meeting of the Howard County High School Student Writers Alliance
when a strange coincidence occured that changed my life. At each meeting, a professional
writer attended and spoke with the group; at this particular meeting, Dr. Livingston
was the guest. At the time, I don't think any of us knew of Only Spring.
Also at each meeting, members brought a piece to be critiqued by this group.
At this meeting, I brought a narrative essay called "M&Ms and Daffodils." It was about my mother,
who had died of cancer the year before. I rarely talk about my mom with other people—"M&Ms"
was somewhat of an abberation for me. Looking back, I still can't quite believe I happened to bring
it to the one meeting where it would be read by someone who had lived through something so similar.
Dr. Livingston not only gave me a copy of Only Spring, he helped me find a publisher for
my essay (it eventually ran in several newspapers and was syndicated by Scripps Howard News Service).
It was my first major publishing credit, and it has helped me enormously in my pursuit of a writing
"career." More importantly, the letters I recieved from people who read my essay still serve as
a powerful reminder to me of why I write: to join my thoughts and memories with those of others.
So for all those reasons, this bookweb is dedicated to Dr. Livingston and Lucas, who continues, six
years after his death, to change peoples lives for the better. And, of course, to my mother.
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Burn Rate: How I Survived the Gold Rush Years on the Internet
by Michael Wolff
"It had happened so quickly. Where other industries developed over decades, the Internet had popped into being overnight. Who was prepared for it? Not corporate America, not the technology business, not the media industry, and, above all, not the people who suddenly had to create profitable businesses."
Jacket text:
For much of the 1990s, starting up a business on the Internet offered young go-getters with a taste for risk the fastest route to glittering prosperity. Our light-speed economy has made possible a new American dream, to take an idea overnight from the kitchen table to hundreds of millions of dollars in market value. But the desperate Internet entrepreneur knows — every day, every night — that the chances of success and survival dwindle at the same rate as the cash evaporates. Make the right deals, announce the right products at the right time, and the investors will beat down your doors with money. Falter, and the venture capitalists will eat you alive.
Michael Wolff was one of the first to see the potential of the Internet and one of the pioneers of new media. As he labored to build his own company, Wolff, a former journalist, knew he had stumbled on the seminal business story of the 1990s. Burn Rate is about the heart-in-your-throat struggle of being an entrepreneur. It is about witnessing an industry being born: the founding of Wired magazine, the launch of Time Warner's much-touted Pathfinder, the conflict between content centered on the East Coast and technology on the West Coast, the rise of search engines, the dominance and dysfunctionality of America Online, and the thud of Microsoft stumbling and falling down on the Net.
In the precarious world of the Internet, where income is a rosy projection and profit little more than a hope and a prayer, a company is no better than the confidence it radiates to its potential partners. After the freewheeling early years of the World Wide Web, the financial prospects of fledgling Web businesses collectively dropped in one stunning month when Wired, the most famous Internet company, failed to launch its stock. Wolff found himself at the head of a rapidly expanding company with seven weeks of capital remaining, trapped between the insatiable needs of his business and the chilling machinations of his investors. With the clock ticking, his only hope was to strike a winning deal.
With mordant wit, Burn Rate portrays life on the bleeding edge of capitalism — a realm where your savior, the venture capitalist, may also be your undoing. A Faustian figure, the venture capitalist reveals to Michael Wolff the secret workings of business, as well as the human dimensions of how companies are made, bought, and sold. But the price he asks in return is steep. He never risks too much of his own money but makes sure that he will profit best and first from the entrepreneur's work.
As Wolff builds his business, you'll get to know the geeks, billionaires, weasels, and, of course, visionaries he meets along the way. Louis Rossetto, the unemployed expat who creates Wired. Walter Isaacson, the prince of Time Warner, who throws the resources of America's largest media company behind the Web. The boy investor, the "dumb money" who backs Wolff's company. Halsey Minor, the executive recruiter who founds a publishing empire on the Net. The CMP boys, the computer magazine publishers who are desperate to get into the Internet game. Robert Maxwell's children, whose high-flying company is one of the first bubbles to burst on the Internet. Even Barry Diller, who advises Wolff that getting in on the ground floor is only good if you're still standing at the end.
Wolff discovers, much to his own consternation, that his work, inspiration, and imagination entitle him to no more than a minor share of his own company's wealth. And, in the end, he may only be along for the ride.
OK, I'm recommending this book somewhat reluctantly. The book itself is fascinating. The
author has what we shall gently term "character issues." Everyone in Silicon Alley has read the book and can't wait to point out an inaccuracy or six. Wolff's ex-employees have horror stories to tell and still want blood. Still . . . the book is fascinating.
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