If I recall the dates correctly, yesterday would have been my grandmother's 100th birthday. She lived to just shy of her 89th, despite a lifetime of chain smoking. I remember her as a sweet, generous woman who liked to laugh and teach me life's simple pleasures; a typical afternoon for us was playing crazy eights and baking cinnamon rolls. There was also an undercurrent of bitter anger to her, something I barely perceived as a child but now recognize in myself as an adult. She faced certain hardships in life to justify it I suppose -- losing her husband to diabetes shortly after he retired, surviving the Great Depression on food stamps and endless hot dogs, having her fingers reattached after a childhood kitchen accident -- but I prefer to remember her happy side.

I bring up these memories to ward off the encroaching fog of history. Some recently unearthed possessions of my distant past, including first-grade report cards (little me aced English but was already behind the class in math), have gotten me thinking about how far removed I am from my own past and family tree. Childhood now feels more like something I read in a book than experienced, as mythologizing certain experiences has been the only way to remember them. If I look back over the years of my life, I see numerous distinct eras that I left behind and moved on from. Each change is associated with the place where I lived more than anything.

I wonder if the children growing up now will get to experience the loss of the past. The Internet and our digital devices record and preserve so much and for so long. Our childhood photos were kept in dusty shoeboxes that were prone to loss; theirs were published for the world to see before they were aware of it, and might remain online forever. We used to be able to move to a new city, start a new job, and begin a new chapter in life, undergoing a natural shedding of memories, a closing of the book on the past. Recently, we have begun to carry the past with us forever, through social media connections to people we should have lost touch with, and digital copies of every thought we once put down into words. I might fear this societal change if I thought we were unequipped to adapt to it, but I'm sure we'll be fine. Our pre-digital life just needs some extra effort to carry ahead into the future, including mine. I need to remember not to forget.


Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

Cold Turkey

Last night, we visited friends to celebrate "orphans Thanksgiving," for those of us who don't travel north to see our families. My family lives right here in Sarasota and we already had a nice holiday dinner on the beach (mmm grouper), but I wasn't about to miss a gathering with friends. The food was good and the company was great, but what I didn't expect was the cold, or I'd have put on more than a t-shirt and light slacks. Go »

Garfunkel and Oates

Kelly and I had a good time last night taking out two old friends for their birthdays to see Garfunkel and Oates in Tampa. I'm only familiar with the duo's songs, so it was refreshing that only maybe a third of the show consisted of music. The rest was stand up comedy, storytelling, audience interaction, and a weird extended commercial for their sponsor Monster Energy Drink, tall boys of which were being handed out for free, because that's just what my heart needs at ten o'clock at night. Go »

Illinois 2013: Four Pictures

As a follow-up to my Illinois road trip, here are photos taken at our engagement party. Shown are Kelly and me, Matthew Preston with his wife Liz, and Jackie Mason with her husband Will. I wish that our photographer Lori Lancaster was in one of the shots, but I'm grateful to her for taking the pictures all the same. Go »

In Love, in Tampa

Last night we took in a special show by Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman for Valentines Day. Kelly is a huge fan of both and I was happy to take her to see them. I did not start the evening as a Palmer fan, but I was one by the time it ended. Go »

What's Funnier Than a Heart Attack?

Everything, but especially finding out that it's not a heart attack. The pain started after I finished my usual Tuesday dinner with my mom at 8pm. I stood up to leave, and stiffness shot up my back and across my chest. Go »

Everybody Loves George

As long as everyone already knows I'm years behind the rest of the culture, can I recommend That's My Bush! before Dubya actually concludes his presidency? We just finished watching the short series; it starts weak but gets pretty strong by the end. Go »