Charles H. Elliott 1943-2008

My father in law died Saturday morning, after battling cancer for several years. The whole family's taking it hard.

I remember clearly the weekend The Wife first took me home to meet the folks. There was a good bit of nervousness on my part, and for good reason. Charles took particular glee in picking on someone, and The Wife had let her folks know that I was an aspiring (and unpublished) science fiction writer. Charles, it just so happened, was a science fiction fan, and had read quite a few of the classics of the genre. So the first thing he does when I walk through the door is quiz me.

"Who was the Mule?"

Imagine being faced with that right off the bat. Fortunately, I'd read my Asimov during my teenage years, and answered easily and in detail. He quizzed me for several minutes, and I recall getting every question right except, perhaps, for one. But it was enough to convince him I was the Real Deal, and not just a poseur who'd watched Star Wars a half-dozen times. Once he pronounced me "acceptable" I saw my chance and seized the opportunity to turn the tables on him.

"Now it's my turn to quiz you," I said. "What famous British fantasy author lives here in town?"

Amused, and waiting, perhaps, for a punch line, he admitted he had no idea.

"Michael Moorcock," I said.

"No way," he answered.

So I walked over to the phone book, open it to the Ms and show him the listing, plain as day.

That clinched me the title of "Favorite Son-In-Law" from that point forward. He will be missed.

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