Tag Archives: Passing

Founding Member – Dear Crabby

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This was originally written for and published in the Watch The Skies Fanzine, the August 2025 edition.

In the time since our last issue, one of our longest standing members passed away. Rebecca Hardenbrook was with the group since the beginning, though her attendance at the physical meetings had been less in recent months. She read, debated and laughed her way through many of the groups reading choices. She attended the extra events like movies or watch parties and was a long standing convention attendee as well. She latched onto fandom and wouldn’t let go, even going as far to publish some fan fiction on Archive of Our Own.

It came as a surprise to some that she was the voice behind a long running piece in Watch The Skies titled “Dear Crabby”. The concept being that of an advice column, similar to Dear Abbey, but with science fiction related themes and… less than political responses. The questions and responses ran from 2014 all the way into 2022.

To quote another member of the group, “I remember how fearless Beck was and how that one particular smile would begin to grow as she listened to someone full of themselves or just didn’t have a solid sense of reality. It would form on her face like an archer pulling back on their bow, and I knew whatever she launched at the person would be DEVASTATING, but in the most loving way imaginable. She did not suffer bullies or fools.”

Crabby’s identity was a loosely guarded secret so that nobody would feel unjustly targeted or as if the response to their question was a personal attack… well, no more than would be expected from an advisor whose monicker literally meant irritable.

From “I hate to make light of the situation but, does it matter?” in response to a question about smashing photons in an experiment to “you do realize that life on other planets could conceivably consist of what amounts to a sentient mold, right?” when responding to a question about UFOs and visitors from other planets, Crabby’s responses had something for everyone along the way. That something might have been thoughtful, or it might have been thoughtful combined with acidic, but the responses were genuinely her own. The archive of her work is still on the Watch The Skies page dedicated to her HERE.

Rebecca will be missed. This world, and those others populated by fandom are less without her.

Eulogy

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One of the hardest things to do was stand in front of family, friends and coworkers to deliver some words at the time of remembrance for Rebecca. I struggled to finish what I was saying.

Our friends and family also gave their own words and they were wonderful. There is a recording of that, and I may post a link to it later. Below are the words I spoke that day:

Eulogy is a silly word with the ‘e’ and the ‘u’ and the ‘g’ and it just doesn’t fit. It’s the wrong word for describing Beck. There are a number of other words that should be used to describe her. Some of those words are –

Defiant.

If you wanted Beck to do something, simply tell her she was NOT allowed to do that thing. She would tell you precisely what you should do with your opinion and then head directly out to do what you said she should not. This is important because it is how we met. David said she was not allowed to meet me, so she threw her biker jacket and heavy boots on and stomped into the store where I worked to talk to me. We chatted, she was lovely and I asked her out. She said yes.

Passionate.

From dating, to marriage and beyond if Beck felt it, she felt it strongly. Opinions, personal or political were always ready. It was never anger, it was towering rage. It was not care, it was deep love. There was no middle ground when it came to her feelings. It was in part of the reason the song for our first dance at our wedding reception was ‘Storybook Love’ from the soundtrack of the film “The Princess Bride”. Those lyrics had deep meaning to her.

My love is like a storybook story
But it’s as real as the feelings I feel

Inappropriate.

If there was a crass, dirty joke to be made you can be sure Beck would step up. She was proud to deliver the F bomb at any occasion, or plainly describe the state of things. One memorable example was at my sister’s wedding. Ellen asked us to take care of greeting people and having them sign the guest book. When my mom’s dear friend Vesta arrived she asked Beck “How are you today?” Without missing a beat Beck’s reply was, “I’m bloated and my feet hurt in these shoes… how are you?” She was not always met with similar replies.

Caring.

Rebecca was always interested in helping other people. One of the things she most enjoyed was trying to make things better for other people. For a long time that meant cooking for everyone. There was never a shortage of cooking going on. She found GISH – the greatest international scavenger hunt and all its associated charities. She loved to participate in that event and would take a week off from work to do it. Giving and caring and doing goofy things along the way because caring didn’t mean being dull about it.

Strong.

The defining thing in Beck’s life became her health. As one of the nurses at the ICU said after I’d recounted her med list and her health history, “Wow, she has really gone through it”. I know most of you know the numbers now, but 10 major surgeries, including 6 for her heart, 2 strokes and too many hospital stays to count is a lot – and she just kept powering on. She lived these last years with a timer over her head that she couldn’t read. It was a struggle here, near the end but that is absolutely NOT how she would want to be remembered. She would want to be remembered for everything else.

Today should be about sharing stories, particularly the inappropriate ones. Let’s talk about her roles as mother, wife, partner, friend, activist, charity champion and how she will be missed by her family, friends and community. There will forever be an unfilled seat at our table, the absence of her light in the room and in our lives cannot be replaced. She had an impact for good in everyone’s lives she touched. She will be deeply missed.

To bring things full circle, a quote from The Princess Bride,

“Death cannot stop true love, all it can do is delay it for a while”.

Thank you all for being here for her.

She Is Gone.

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I’ve had a post, or series of posts up on social media for a few weeks now. I think I need to post this here, for ME on my website. I need to own this and keep it.

My wife of 30 years passed away in July. There’s no easy way to put that. She is gone.

Social media held a lot of messages and updates and information about arrangements and things like that. I think this post needs to give a little more, or rather a different view of things if not necessarily more.

My wife had health related struggles for many years. I’d posted about it and even published a piece about taking care of your own health during that time. She’d had more than a dozen hospital stays over the course of the past 20 years. Her first open heart surgery was back in the early 2000s when my daughter was just over a year old. Things always seemed to bounce back. We were always lucky I guess. We knew… but we didn’t know. The chance of everything going wrong was always there, it just never managed to actually happen.

Intellectually we were prepared. Physically and emotionally we struggled and muddled along. About 3 years ago Beck had her first major stroke. It took her a few days to come back around and start the recovery process. She did recover, mostly. She was never quite the same in a lot of ways. How we acted, the things we did and places we went changed and morphed over time.

On July 26th Beck started showing signs of having another stroke. I kept asking her what she was feeling and telling her she was worrying me. She couldn’t get up and walk without help, she started to lose the function of her hands. I asked her again what she felt was happening. The ambulance arrived, off we went to the hospital again. Somehow this felt different. There were other, small factors that were adding in here. They rushed her into surgery that Saturday night trying to relieve the pressure in her head. Nothing worked.

Three agonizing days with no real responses or movement or anything. A massive hemorrhagic stroke. We made the choice to go forward with her wishes of organ donation. It took until July 29th for her to be all the way gone.

Her last coherent words were, “I love you”.

I have cried more in the last month than I have in the last 20 years combined. Sitting here and typing things just doesn’t seem to cover it. I am wreckage. Almost a month along and I am only mostly functional. I’m planning to try to put more things here – but it will take time.

Loss

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I have edged my way into the time of life when I start to lose people. The simple fact is that people get older and eventually they die. The longer you go, the more it happens. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I found out this past Friday that another of my friends had died. He was 50. Same age that I am as I write this. He attended the same high school my wife did. I can’t say we were super close, but we were friends and I had known him for years. We hung out. We went to lunches, we played games. I’m not adding specifics about things because I believe sharing those things are the family’s choice, and they didn’t share any of those details in his obituary.

One way people can go on is if we remember them. I’m going to share this very short story because it is my favorite.

Many years ago, Bryan was in the navy. He was a diver and he was training to use underwater demolitions. One of the explosives he was working with detonated too early. Among other injuries this seriously damaged his hearing. He medically retired from the service. He wore hearing aids from that point forward.

While we were at lunch at a busy restaurant one day he expressed his difficulties in hearing immediate conversations when there was so much background noise around him. I know others with hearing aids and understood. Then I remembered this cartoon:

Funny because it’s true…

I leaned in and said to him, “You’re at the doctor’s office and the doc said ‘Yes sir, that was very loud! Now I need to hear your heart!’”

He was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. “You have no idea how true stuff like that is!” was all he could muster between laughing bouts. This is how I will remember him. I will miss him. Rest well Bryan.

Death and Perspective

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I’m trying to put the second family death in as many months into perspective. My father in law passed away in May and now my Grandmother has passed away. It’s easy to get caught up in negative feelings. I struggle with trying to see good things when people die.

As I gave it more thought, at the age of 97 my grandmother had been around for a whole lot of stuff. Born at the end of World War 1, her formative years were right through the heart of prohibition and the great depression. She was a bride around World War II and her husband a soldier. Her children became the famous baby boomer generation. She saw the Korean war, Elvis, the civil rights movement, Beatlemania, and the rise of television. Her children were the age of the soldiers of Vietnam. Watergate, the “just say no” campaign aimed at her grandchildren, and the death of her husband. The cold war – from the start all the way to the fall of the Berlin wall and more. Going to the moon, shuttle disasters – all of them – and the start of the privatization of the space race.

In all that time, through all those things and so much more is a pretty amazing journey. In the end, she was still my grandmother. I remember sitting in the squeaky kitchen chairs but being fine with that because they had swiveling seats. The grandfather clock in the dining room and the drawer full of toys in the breezeway. Good memories.

One of my favorites came later in life when I was an adult. We were having a chat around the kitchen table and the old fashioned kettle had reached temperature. I jumped up to grab it right away and she said, “Oh just let it go. It’s the only one that whistles at me any more.” She had a few of my most favorite jokes.

I love her and I will miss her.

My favorite picture with my grandmother.

My favorite picture with my grandmother.

Struggle

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I meant to post this earlier. I sat on this post for a while. I still struggle with putting my feelings forward into words. It’s what an author is supposed to do really, but I just don’t believe I’m that good. Hopefully one day I’ll be good enough to write words that move people.

The past couple of weeks in my life have been the definition of chaotic. An emotional roller coaster peaking and dipping day by day. In the past 2 weeks I’ve had the death of a family member, a 50th wedding anniversary celebration, a departure meeting for the exchange students I’ve worked with this year, an ongoing issue at work involving a substantial amount of money, my daughters spring band concert and the funeral for the relative we lost. Oh and right at the start of all that one of the exchange students suddenly living with us for a little while after she was asked to leave the house she was staying in (surprise!).

Some of these things were one day after the next – a couple of them were on the same day. It’s been… I don’t even know what it’s been. I’m exhausted. Wrung out and done.

Perhaps it’s this state of mind that has brought on my choice of examining these things in the context of the military and particularly the military in science fiction and fantasy.

There’s a lot of debate out there about the best way to handle the military, it’s role and the soldier’s place in it all when writing. There are those that ignore introspection and go for action. There are those that take on the story from a commander’s point of view and those that take it all from the grunt’s point of view. Ethics, sanity, the physical toll and the reasons behind it all. I have spent some time attempting to review military science fiction over at milscifi.com and spent more time considering how it is I feel about all these stories.

At their heart military stories are about the people involved and what war does to them. The soldiers and their families are the ones that pay the price of war. There are stories out there that show the trauma and mental damage soldiers end up with as a result of having everything stripped away to the core of their self and being forced to face that. Some people make it, some people don’t. Some are broken and spend the rest of their lives living with the broken parts. That is the reality we live with, every day.

I have come to learn that what I prefer are the stories where there is a level of heroism. The main character should be someone I can empathize with. He or she needs to be somebody that faces down very real dilemmas, struggles through and ultimately comes out with a positive result, even if not the initially intended result. I struggle with and generally don’t like stories where the mental damage wins. I dislike the characters that don’t make the heroic choice. I want the sacrifice to mean something. I want the positive result, perhaps as a direct reaction to the real world.

I like the fiction. The reality is much more difficult to manage. The death in our family was my father-in-law. He was a veteran of 2 wars and was laid to rest this past week with full military honors. Flag ceremony, rifle salute, taps and a direct punch in the heart for me. I didn’t expect it to hit so hard. I’m not going to lionize the man now that he’s gone. He wasn’t perfect by any stretch, but I suspect that some part of that imperfection might be that damage seeping through. I wept when it was time to say good bye – and I haven’t wept in many, many years.

I wanted to have some grand, sweeping point here but it’s just not coming to me. Maybe one day I will master the words, but today is not that day.

Rest In Peace.

Shell2

My Father Wore Rainbow Suspenders

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“Oh captain, my captain”

I clicked “like” on the post. Those were the only words there. I hadn’t seen or heard anything else related – I just knew the quote and had always enjoyed it. Always, as if there was never a time when I didn’t know a show or movie that involved Robin Williams. To a certain degree this is true. Mork and Mindy came on the air when I was 8. It hit just the right nerve or wavelength or something. It worked. Crazy, funny, alien.

Since then, you know the list: Dead Poets, Good Will Hunting, Aladdin, Good Morning Vietnam. Even the others that weren’t as popular: Club Paradise, Flubber, Hook. I’ll admit I probably reached a point where I took his stage presence for granted. Perhaps even thought, “can’t he do something that isn’t his manic ranting…” from time to time. Funny thing about that – he did. He was in just tons of things. He crossed generations as an entertainer. My daughter knows him as the voice of the genie. Most profoundly, my dad knows him as Mork. I don’t recall any conversations my dad and I may have had about TV over the years – out taste in entertainment / media are about as far apart as they can be – but Robin Williams as a performer crossed that huge gap. The title is true. My dad wore rainbow suspenders.

I am more saddened than I expected. The passing of somebody I’ve never met who lived a life so far from my own and so foreign to my way of thinking, yet he was always there. He’s been a force on television and in the movies for as long as I can recall. Robin Williams touched so many lives. He will be missed.

Mork