Why Am I Here?
The title might lead you to think I’m asking an existential question, I’m not. What I’m asking is “why am I here and not on Facebook?” The simple answer is I look much better in print than I do in a video feed or a photo. That’s not the only reason. I’m 72 years old. All I’ve done my whole like is write (and occasionally take photos to remind myself where I’ve been). To go after “followers” and “produce content” for consumption by strangers, all the while counting my likes and follows is not something I want to spend time doing. (You can, if you prefer, insert the word “curmudgeon” in place of any pronouns used to identify me.)
Naturally, you’re about to ask me so what is a blog if not simply an old school version of a Facebook presence. Fair question. The difference, for me at least, is I am reaping the reward that comes from writing without the pressure of having to “create.” So what good is writing without pressure? It fulfills me in a private and personal way that forcing myself to produce content can’t. Also, on occasion a friend drops in to see what I’m up to. But perhaps more important than that, I’m leaving behind a legacy. Even if it is one that is largely ignored. Some of the people closest to me don’t look at these pages, that’s okay. When I’m all done writing, or when I can’t write any longer, I’m going to have all of this printed and handed out at my memorial. (As punishment for the survivors I suppose.) I’m well over a thousand pages, so you shouldn’t feel bad if you skip reading a few here and there when you are handed all this and told your dad, partner, friend, wanted you to have this. If you’re not handed this, it’s because I decided to have it buried with me instead, or cremated with me, or composted with me, I’m not sure which path I’m going to take yet. Whether your receive this or not is largely dependent on whether or not I eventually master English grammar.