I’m back from Sicily as of yesterday afternoon. I didn’t have internet access while I was away, or I would have written several posts about how amazing Italy is; I’m going to try and round up whatever thoughts I can recoup after ten days of sleeping in late, eating decadently tasty food and drinking lots of red wine, and write something here soon.

In the meantime, I’m feeling a little fuzzy-brained and jetlagged and a little deflated after returning to the reality of a non-vacation life. Mostly though, I’m feeling incredibly sad about Christopher Reeve’s death yesterday. There’s not an actor’s performance in any film that means more to me than Reeve’s in “Superman: The Movie.” It had a profound impact on the way I saw the world as a child, and it still chokes me up to watch it as an adult. It was acutely painful to see Reeve suffer that horrible accident in 1995, and now to see him go at the relatively young age of 52… I can’t possibly articulate the meaning of this loss in a way that would do it any kind of justice.



  1. Welcome back, Khoi.

    I saw Superman in New Delhi, I think, on my first trip to India back when I was in third grade. I remember it vividly–the theater was a cavernous and ornate British theater complete with balcony and chandelier, and an usher showed us to our seats. And the woman sitting in front of me translated the entire undubbed movie into Hindi for her son.

    RIP Mr. Reeves.

  2. Thanks folks. I’m still getting used to being back again, and I haven’t quite found the energy to resume blogging regularly, what with all the catching up I’m trying to do at work. But soon…

  3. As an avid rider and a graduate of the same college that graduated Dana Morosini Reeve one year earlier, I’ve followed Christopher Reeve’s story with great personal interest, and I too was very much saddened by the news. But think about it this way: His fall could have happened to anyone in the competition on that summer day, and if it had been anyone else, it would have been nothing more than a terrible, tragic accident. He nearly died then, but he didn’t, and in the nine years that followed, he used his fame and resources to promote awareness and progress that otherwise might never have happened. He set an example of courage and grace, gave hope to so many who desperately need it, and made us all rethink our definition of a hero. They say everything happens for a reason, and though it’s often hard in the face of tragedy to imagine what that reason might be, in the case of Christopher Reeve, it couldn’t be more clear. He is gone now and we’ll miss him, but I hope that somewhere, he is free.

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