Opining Online

I really like the sentiments expressed in this post at Casaubon’s Book:

Father and Mother and Uncle John…: Tribalism and a Place at the Table

This post – Yrs. faithfully - reminded me of the occasional odd electronic conversation I used to have with my youngest daughter in the ’90s. Remember the ’90s?

(Note: the memories he invoked have little to do with his essay other than the importance of the people doing the communicating. There’s much more there than what I reminisce about here.)

She used to send messages to me in my *office* via my printer from her bedroom. Yes, we had a home network facilitated by Cat5 cables (and Windows 95/98) strung from one end of the house to the other. These were not installed, they merely laid on the floor, also facilitating tripping and making vacuuming and mopping more fun. Not that I did a lot of vacuuming or mopping.

Believe it or not, we had 3 telephone lines into the house in those days. One was the primary voice number, it’s secondary line being the daughter’s line. The other was another “line 1″ for either fax or modem, mostly modem. A 56k modem which usually worked at 24k… because the lines were noisy. But we were wired, folks… wired.

My older daughter communicated through writing also, but not nearly as easily. There’s 6 1/2 years difference in their ages… and the ability to communicate a passing thought was much easier for the younger one than for the older, I think… because the younger one had the electronic advantage.

Now, through email and Facebook, we can all share our immediate thoughts much more easily and readily than ever before. Not to mention photos. I love digital photos!

Mr. Kinsell writes:

Properly used, the communications technology we now enjoy makes a whole lot of things easier and less time-consuming so that we can actually spend more time and energy on what’s really important.

Exactly. The key words there? “Properly used” and “what’s really important”.

Ever since this blog began, Wordpress has been begging me to update. Today, the update has been done, thanks to my friend Talina of Harvest of Daily Life.

While readers may not notice much difference, there’s a huge difference in the “backend” of the blog. Yeah, I had to look for the place to blog the upgrade.

I am grateful to not be nagged by Wordpress to upgrade. This reduces stress which is always a good thing. Plus, I’m glad that the upgrade protects me against attacks that I may never understand.

Never will I be a cutting edge blogger. It just ain’t my style. But I appreciate being up to date. Now if I can only get Talina down here to fine tune my hardware…

Actually, that’s not required. I’m much more capable of fine-tuning my hardware than I am software. And that hurts me to admit. Plugging in a harddrive has always been somewhat easier than being a servant to software.

Whether it’s true or not, I blame my brain tumor for now being unable to do what I did when it was actually harder than it is today. Yes, at one point I was one of them Microsoft Certified people. I used to teach people how to use software and now I can’t figure it out on my own. I really hate this, but it is now true. That I couldn’t figure out how to update my own website (with what I know to be relative simple tools) irritates the dickens outta me.

They are only simple if you understand them and I now lack that ability.

So… thank you VERY much, Talina.

Hello Everly Charlotte!

Since Saturday, I haven’t been online more than an hour total, and most of that was looking at proofs of my daughter’s latest family photo session. Realizing that I cannot afford 32 11 x14 prints is causing some stress!

Saturday, we had a family reunion on my mother’s side for the first time since 1994. My cousins have children and grandchildren I’d never met before. We realized we’d only been getting together for funerals for the last 15 years, and that we needed more. We had so much fun we’re planning another for next year.

All of my mother’s siblings have died. My father is the only one left of that generation in the family. We are fortunate that my oldest aunt started gathering genealogical information about the family when she was a teenager and kept at it until she was no longer able to travel. Her daughter went through one box (there are more) of her mother’s photos and distributed them to the oldest child of each sibling. What a wonderful gift that was!

My sister and I have taken the information my aunt gathered and put it into genealogy software and have continued the research. Everyone enjoyed looking at the wall chart my sister printed.

Little Sister is in the states for another week and a half, so I won’t be online much until after she goes home. I could be, but I have found that I really do not like using a laptop. My wrists are spoiled to my split keyboard and my eyes to my big monitors.

Family-wise, there’s a lot going on that’s not bloggable so I may be a bit distracted. Um, I mean more distracted. Possibly less intelligible too, if that’s possible.

Iowahawk (who I don’t have on my blogroll, but perhaps should) in a most serious note suggests that he is Joe.

Joe is defined too narrowly as merely a plumber. Joe is more than that, don’t you think? He represents my pipefitter husband, his welder brother, whose two sons are actually plumbers!

And how are they different from my dad the logger and sawmiller, my stepbrother who followed in my dad’s footsteps? How are they that different from my brother who didn’t, but perhaps wishes he had?

How are my sons – a teacher in training and AF National Guardsman and a disabled, but determined man different from Joe? Do they not have dreams? Are they not working to make them reality? Why, yes they are. Are they perfect? I wish… though I love them as if they were.

Truly, I can’t think of a more “perfect” example of the American working man than today’s plumber. While no more dignified than ditch-digging, it requires more education and training (yes, there’s math and physics involved).

If I understand Democrat ideals (it’s entirely possible I do not), Joe the Plumber should be their poster boy. Yet… he’s not. Why? Why are middle Americans not represented by the Democrat Party? And why do so many of them think they are?

Amba tagged me last week and I’m just now getting around to posting Seven Seven Facts About Myself.

Here are the rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.

2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
5. Present an image of martial discord from whatever period or situation you’d like.

Like others before me, I first read that as “marital” discord. Now that I’ve read it correctly, I can think of no better example of martial discord than the militancy of hippies. Here’s my image:

Seven Facts About Myself

1. I’m inordinately proud of my children, step-children, and those they have chosen for mates. I am, without doubt, one of the most fortunate people on the planet.
2. I remember living without electricity and indoor plumbing. It wasn’t that we couldn’t afford it so much as it was simply not available that far up in the mountains.
3. I have seen a forest fire “close-up.”
4. I am both shy and friendly. I am shy about revealing too much of myself to others and friendly in wanting everyone to feel welcome wherever I am.
5. I like rocks. Bryce Canyon is one of the most beautiful places I’ve been.
6. Though thoroughly female, I like vanilla much more than I like chocolate. Unless it’s rich, dark chocolate. Then I must have both.
7. I have an ancestor who fought for both the Union and the Confederacy. He also served time in prison camps on both sides, dying in Andersonville.

Now… about tagging seven other people. As noted here, I don’t know five people to tag and now I’m supposed to tag seven?

My Plan!

Not “MY” plan, my friend Sarah’s plan. I’m not that ambitious or diligent.

I first met Mary in 1999 on an AOL message board about the Right to Keep and Bear Arms shortly after the Columbine shootings. We never quite agreed; she was for more regulation than I am, though we weren’t that far apart. We emailed and chatted online for years.

Last year, I finally met her in person. We shared a bottle of wine and box of chocolates and laughed most of the night. She talked a lot about her son and daughter, who I know are missing her terribly.

She helped me through some very rough times with my son. She didn’t just commiserate and give me moral support, she came through with concrete ideas and connections that helped put my son back on the right track. I will be forever grateful.

I will miss her insights into human nature and her wonderful sense of humor. She was far too young to die.