Foundation’s Friends

A Word or Two from Janet
by Janet Jeppson Asimov

I am often asked what it’s like to be Isaac Asimov’s wife or, as he referred to me in a recent speech, “the present holder of that enviable position.” I usually mull over several possible answers:

1. Isaac is, conveniently, a walking dictionary and encyclopedia, able to impart information quickly, accurately, and eloquently because he has well-honed powers of expression and an incredible memory-which gets him into trouble, since there are too many things he can’t forget. For instance, he is likely to say sadly, “This is the one hundred eighty-third anniversary of the Battle of Austerlitz and nobody cares!” Each December 2, since I have forgotten what he told me the year before, I have to ask him to explain allover again. Fortunately, although he does not put up with fools gladly, he puts up with me, and explains.

2. Isaac is reassuringly rational, with exceptions. He believes in the spectacular law-that if he flips up the dark spectacles attached to his eyeglasses, the sun will come out, and vice versa. Furthermore, in the baseball season he thinks the Mets will lose any game he dares to watch. Once they start losing, he turns off the TV and shouts, “I have to stop watching and go back to my typewriter to give them a chance!”

3. He has a wonderful lack of fear about showing emotion. Not only is he affectionate and demonstrative, he doesn’t even know what a stiff upper lip is. Isaac’s lower lip quivers most when he has to have a blood sample drawn, but even then he manages to flirt with the female doing it. He’s not afraid to cry (he always does when he reads Enobarbus’s last speech or sings ‘Danny Boy’), and will do so even in public, the way he did at Newton’s grave.

4. Isaac has a point of view that makes me glad I know him. For instance, he woke up once with his legs making running motions in the bed. He said, “I dreamt someone told me I was making a good living out of writing, and I said yes indeed I was. Then the person said, ‘It’s amazing to see someone make all that money out of beaten swords.’ I was running to tell you because it instantly struck me that the phrase meant I made my money out of the instruments of peace-the pen is mightier than the sword and thou shalt beat thy swords into plowshares.”

As you can see, there are many answers to the question of what it’s like to be Isaac Asimov’s wife, but the best is that my spouse defies description. Oddly enough, people always seem to be describing Isaac, and he is still on speaking terms with most of them. Perhaps paleontologist Simpson’s description is definitive-”Isaac Asimov is a natural wonder and a national resource.” I can testify that he is a wonder, completely natural, infinitely resourceful, and a dear.

We have a little wooden sculpture of two old people placidly sitting side by side, leaning toward each other. To me, they represent the contentment of being part of the pattern of life, together. The pattern includes intimacy and creativity, which have a lot in common because both take commitment, concentration, openness, effort, and inspiration.

My personal fiftieth anniversary with Isaac Asimov occurs in the third decade of the next century. Since life contains the three essential elements of a good work of fiction-a beginning, a middle, and an end-it is possible that Isaac and I won’t be here for that anniversary, but his books will. And the stories people write because of him. Like those in this book, done with love.