On a family walk the other day my spouse and I were discussing our legal affairs --setting up our will so we know E would be provided for (and cared for by good people) if we both were to die.
Then we moved on to speculate about what we would do if one of us died. I promptly said that I would move home to Maine. My spouse said that made sense. Then there was a brief pause.
"Would you do one thing for me, though?" he asked.
"Certainly." I replied.
"Well, I've got three papers that I'm working on right now. Do you think you could just finish them up and get them published? I've also got a few papers that are forthcoming so you'd need to get them through the editing process."
I began laughing. "Sure. My whole life will have come crashing down around me but I will make sure that humanity is not deprived of your scholarship."
"What's so funny?" he asked defensively, "Don't you want me to get your dissertation research completed and published if you die before you do?"
"No. I can't say that the world will be worse off if my dissertation never sees the light of day."
"That's not what I mean. Don't you just want to know that it's taken care of?"
"No, I doubt that, in the event of an untimely death, I would spend my final moments lamenting all the research projects I've never completed. Thanks, though."
This, I believe, is why my spouse is a rock star, a force to be reckoned with, a scholar and an academic. Me? Not so much.
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