Thank you to everyone (well, the small collection of people) who left comments on my previous blog. I was in kind of an emotionally volatile state and even that small gesture means a lot.
This is sort of a continuation of the last blog, though not nearly as heavy. In thinking of my late grandpa, I very briefly tried to find some information on him. Very briefly. Googled his name and didn't go much further. And as obvious as it is in hindsight, I was absolutely shocked to find zero information on him on the Internet. It was appalling. There's no record of him. Why would there be, right? But it was weird.
It startled me into a realization: before the information age, someone really could be absolutely and utterly forgotten. It's nearly impossible now. I'm just one dorky kid on a planet full of people, but there are records of me everywhere on the Internet. Writing that I've done, projects I've contributed to, this blog, pictures, classmates.com, the Internet archive... everything you do leaves an impression somewhere, on some machine, you know?
But a hundred years ago, if you died and no one had records or pictures of you... you were forgotten. And I'm honestly not sure how much evidence of my grandpa exists for posterity. I'm going to call my mom later today and talk to her about it. I'm sure it will be an awkward conversation. But if there are photos, writings, whatever... of my grandpa, I really want to preserve them or at the very least have them.
It's a weird thing. When you're young, this kind of thing never enters your mind. You marvel at older people and think, "why are they so obsessed with preservation?" It seems to be an interest that only adults have and the young can't understand. And then you get older, and it becomes a priority. I can't explain the reasoning or motivation behind it. Maybe it's the increased awareness of our mortality as we age. Maybe it's the increased exposure to death as people we know naturally pass away in front of us. Maybe it's the urge to leave a legacy. Whatever it is, it's happening to me. I suddenly have something in common with that weird guy who wants to fill out his family tree, make photo albums, and bury time capsules. I kind of understand where he's coming from. I never thought I would.
This is sort of a continuation of the last blog, though not nearly as heavy. In thinking of my late grandpa, I very briefly tried to find some information on him. Very briefly. Googled his name and didn't go much further. And as obvious as it is in hindsight, I was absolutely shocked to find zero information on him on the Internet. It was appalling. There's no record of him. Why would there be, right? But it was weird.
It startled me into a realization: before the information age, someone really could be absolutely and utterly forgotten. It's nearly impossible now. I'm just one dorky kid on a planet full of people, but there are records of me everywhere on the Internet. Writing that I've done, projects I've contributed to, this blog, pictures, classmates.com, the Internet archive... everything you do leaves an impression somewhere, on some machine, you know?
But a hundred years ago, if you died and no one had records or pictures of you... you were forgotten. And I'm honestly not sure how much evidence of my grandpa exists for posterity. I'm going to call my mom later today and talk to her about it. I'm sure it will be an awkward conversation. But if there are photos, writings, whatever... of my grandpa, I really want to preserve them or at the very least have them.
It's a weird thing. When you're young, this kind of thing never enters your mind. You marvel at older people and think, "why are they so obsessed with preservation?" It seems to be an interest that only adults have and the young can't understand. And then you get older, and it becomes a priority. I can't explain the reasoning or motivation behind it. Maybe it's the increased awareness of our mortality as we age. Maybe it's the increased exposure to death as people we know naturally pass away in front of us. Maybe it's the urge to leave a legacy. Whatever it is, it's happening to me. I suddenly have something in common with that weird guy who wants to fill out his family tree, make photo albums, and bury time capsules. I kind of understand where he's coming from. I never thought I would.