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My Granddaughter. (I'm In NYC.)

The big news is that I’m a grandfather!

Here she is dressed up to head home from the maternity ward! Isn’t she cute?

I love her. It’s such a tender feeling to hold the baby. Pure light and love.

Women are like those Russian dolls, with always another one inside. It’s great to see life renewing itself.

*******

We’re in Manhattan once again.

Brain-eating Mr. Softee trucks abound.

A taxi-motor caught fire. It’s great when you see the taxis and bike messengers fighting; they’re like natural enemies, like giant squid vs. sperm whales.

As usual there’s amazing dancers at the 34th St. subway station.

But mainly I’m thinking about my granddaughter!

3 Responses to “My Granddaughter. (I'm In NYC.)”

  1. Jonathan Vos Post Says:

    “Women are like those Russian dolls, with always another one inside.” Dr. Rucker is making a sly joke about the medieval Homunculus theory, and how it leads to infinite regress. See, however, “Darwin’s Radio” by Greg Bear, on how a female could in theory be born pregnant. Alternate worlds with alternate human biologies lead to alternate Histories of Mathematics. My son is 16, so if I were to dsicover myself a grandfather, I’d have to worry about statutory rape. Rudy: heartfelt congratulations. You are now in a chain of being of order n+1.

  2. Richard Bacchus Says:

    Congratulations Granpaw!
    Beautiful Baby. On My days off from being an International Rockstar, I moonlight at a New York City Bicycle Messenger. My latest CD is called The Bicycle Diaries because that’s how I financed it.
    richardbacchus.com

  3. Jonathan Vos Post Says:

    Another take on this is that, when my famous book editor father died in late May, and I unexpectedly became the eldest male in my family (as oldest son of oldest son of oldest son), it was as if a bomb had blown off the roof and attic of my home, leaving me exposed to to an indifferent heaven and hostile elements. Having a son born, in the same extended metaphor, is like finding, in a dream, a trapdoor in your bedroom floor that you never noticed before, and finding a ladder to an underground treasure room of unimaginably glorious beings and artworks.


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