Retrospection
by Scott Hardie on October 13, 2012
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 »
Spirit
I've always felt like my life's dream was to quit my job and spend all my time online. I wouldn't only do that, of course – if I won the lottery and quit my job, I'd also travel and take classes and throw parties and do other things – but let's face it, I'd spend a lot of time working on this site and talking to people online. Last night I dreamed I was a ghost, recently passed. Go »Other Contents Under Pressure
"So this guy is on a dinner date, and he has terrible gas, but he waits because he doesn't want to be embarrassed. When they get back to her house, he can't wait any longer. He desperately asks where her bathroom is, and she says first door on the left. Go »Screw the Braden River Post Office
I haven't written in this blog lately, and I hate to resume with a negative topic, but I need to vent and this makes a good outlet. I hate junk mail, as longtime TC users may recall from my many rants on the subject. Honestly, I've considered opening a storefront business that offers PO boxes to the public, and pre-filters your junk mail for you. Go »21 Days
Any advice for what to do with my last three weeks of living single? Kelly will now move here on February 4, due to various factors. This, it goes without saying, rules. Go »Where the Hell I Have Been All Year, Part II
I have a job! It sounds silly to keep that a secret, and yet I did for two years. I was fearful of being dooced for the slightest remark, since nearly anything can be interpreted as inappropriate with enough reasoning. Go »
