An apologia is not an apology. It expresses no wrongdoing. Rather, it is an explanation, from the Greek expression “in defence of”—in this case, an attempt to sidestep societal censure around a chronic mental illness. A quick and loose sketch, done freehand for what was seen and left unseen, vis-à-vis drawing mediums, such as myself.
My brother Steve and I are about to connect some dots. We are middle-aged siblings. Middle age as a place in time was the Middle-earth that J.R.R. Tolkien wrote about in The Hobbit2, one of Steve’s beloved folk tales—a place where humans lived and interacted. Middle age has brought us to a divide. Once the earthen divide is levelled, we draw closer.
Dot connection comes later, as Steve Jobs said: “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.…Believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart even when it leads you off the well-worn path, and that will make all the difference.”3
Even though I’m looking backwards, I embark on my ramble with Steve in a present tense: a kind of tensor-bandage awareness. I invite the reader to wear its tautness with me: to be aware in our moments together. What difference that makes, you be the judge.
Some names have been changed to protect privacy. Some have been created to connect dots. Here come the dotty dots, the pixie pixels, the didgeridoodles.
Steve and I remain, faithfully yours.