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 »

Stepson

She hasn't come out and told me yet, but it seems pretty clear that my mom is engaged, or at least planning to get married to her boyfriend. I wish them both happiness, especially my mom after eleven solitary years as a widow. This is great news for both of them! Go »

Scottish Highlands

Seeing a man in a kilt, the thought occurred to me, "Ha ha! I wonder if anybody has come up with 'upkilt' porn?" Then I checked online. Go »

Head & Shoulders, Knees & Toes

You can look at this as a parody if you wish (I'm no fan of U2), but mostly it's just silly: (link) Go »

Over and Out

"How's the week treating you?" "Like I slept with its wife." I've had better weeks. Go »

Bad for Business

CNN Money published an interesting look at the 101 Dumbest Moments in Business in the year 2006. Go »

The Phoenix

This is the last of four weekly blog posts about diagnoses that have completely changed my life since the pandemic started, after The Dragon, The Tiger, and The Serpent. I saved the lightest one for last. Many people who discover later in life that they're neurodivergent have reported spending years aware of the symptoms and signs of their condition without ever considering that the description might apply to them, and when they do finally realize, it's as if a thousand mysteries are solved at once: Things that never made sense are all suddenly explained. Go »