Now Blogger is telling me that THIS is actually my 100th post, and that my earlier posts were only 98 and 99...not that it really matters any in the greater scheme of things. It's still a helluva lot of posts in not an especially long time. Only the historians and the beancounters REALLY care about the numbers.
Comforting to know that there are also lots of folks reading my blog, and to hear back from you from time to time as well. Even if you feel uncomfortable posting a comment to the blog itself, you can always send me a letter or a private e-mail. Best address for now is probably care of the church (which should be easy enough to find). Just don't be surprised or disappointed if I can't write you back personally right away. Almost everything I have to say I say first right here anyway. Or in my column, or from the pulpit, or in one of my other several (and now mostly neglected) blogs anyway.
Meanwhile, I learned at dinner the other night at the Armistad is here in Portland for a week. Not the original slave ship, of course, but the replica I presume was built for the movie, and which now sails all up and down the Atlantic coast from its home port in New Haven, educating students and the general public about what happened aboard her and the slave trade in general. It's something I would very much like to do myself, if I were able. And who knows? Maybe I'll just round up an attendant and do it anyway. Or at least as much of it as I can. Do you wish to become whole? Arise, pick up your bed, and WALK!
I also wonder what will happen to all of my "stuff" once it becomes part of the public domain. Or maybe I should be honest and say "after I'm gone." I tend to accumulate a fair number of artifacts and more than my fair share of written information when it comes to thing like this, and I understand now why the Victorians were so obsessed with obtaining (and burning!) as many of their loved ones private papers as they could, before historians (or simply a scandal-obsessed free press and its public readership) could get their hands on them first. Haven't really seen any statistics about how sucessful they were, but I do know that the memoir I worked with for my dissertation probably wouldn't have existed if not for the Ware family's foresight. So thanks Wares! And to all you other literary pack-rats who have the space, the sentiment, and the inclination to hold on to stuff like that long after any reasonable soul would have pitched in in the recyclilng.
2 comments:
Is there a human voice that ISN'T worth preserving? Ann B
I've spent the better part of a couple of weeks categorizing, sorting, and putting in chronological order the many 'editions' of editing of my sister's book. The interesting part of this is not the editing sessions (that I recall vividly as I review various parts of the manuscripts), but the human-ness of my sister, the person. It turns out (as usual) that I didn't know the half of her...
The flip side is that I have kept NO un-final versions of my own writing. She was an unfinished person, for all her efforts, and I guess we all die unfinished, she 19 years ago, me not yet.
And when we look for heirs for our papers ... no presidential libraries, but isn't ANYONE interested? ... we do need guidance for our 'forethought'.
Thanks for bringing it up!
Beth
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