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 »

Only in the Web Era

Victim's cell phone is stolen on subway. Thief takes photos of his own wife, family, dog, and home. Cell phone automatically uploads them to victim's Flickr account. Go »

PS3: First Impressions

On Tuesday, which happened to be Denise's birthday (we celebrated the night before), an acquaintance sold me a brand new Playstation 3 and I hit Best Buy to choose carefully from among the whopping half-dozen titles available. When I unpacked the system with a friend, I found it to be much bigger and heavier than I expected, but it's sleek and doesn't have any buttons; you just wave your finger over it to turn it on. The far left edge of the screen is cut off on my TV set, since the system doesn't include any display-centering option, but I hope to figure out a solution. Go »

The Revised Revised Revised Story

Last spring, This Modern World ran a great parody charting the decline of civil liberties in recent years, after the then-shocking revelation that the government was building a database of every call made in the country: (link) I was reminded of that over the weekend as the latest shocking revelation came out, that the FBI has vastly abused its new ability to request confidential information in the interest of national security (link), almost as if it was the next panel in the strip. Except I'm not laughing. Oh, what I'd have given to be the reporter at Alberto Gonzales's press conference this morning. Go »

R.I.P. Bob

My friend and former co-worker Bob, who provided us with jerky at GooCon: Siesta Key, recently passed away of a sudden illness. He was a quirky dude, occasionally given to hostile pranks, but usually a delightful and friendly presence whenever he saw you. I don't know how much his service in Vietnam warped him, but he definitely wasn't like anyone else I knew, prone to making weird jokes and unexplained connections between ideas. Go »

How to Get on My Bad Side

Sign me up for information about lap band surgery, using my work email address and work phone number. I've been getting calls from various hospitals since last week. At first I thought it was my friend and co-worker Aaron (not Shurtleff), since he has a mischievous sense of humor, but he denies it. Go »

Dr. Jerk

I wish doctors would treat me like a person, instead of a fat person. No matter what complaint sends me to the doctor in the first place, within minutes, every visit turns into a conversation about how I need to lose weight, and what will happen if I don't. Like I haven't tried a thousand times to lose weight. Go »