Aug. 19, 2005 - 21:14 MDT

MULL-IT TIME

Sort of a re-cap of a re-run I guess. Wherein I relive a bit of my life of later years.

In 1990 at the age of 69 I retired. Having been a devoted reader for most of my life and still being able to hear TV pretty well, all went well for quite a time. I devoured books, some of which I digested and then literary constipation set in. I saw all the Mash episodes that I missed while working the night shift. And there was definitely something missing in my life. I couldn't sit in Heather's lap most of the time and she had her interests too, some of which also were mine, but time began to hang heavy oer my head.

We visited with the kids, traveled to and from Oregon a few times, walked in the park and amused ourselves quite well I think . . . but there was something lacking.

Gradually I realized that I was deeply missing the personal interchange of conversation with people I had worked with. Some of them I met when they came out of high school and before I left had married, became parents and arrived at middle age more or less. I greatly missed all those good folks, some of whom were family to me and conversely me to them. Others past that age were people who had been down the same road I traveled and knew the ropes and a lot of the dopes as well as the supervisory scams too.

I remembered when we were raising our kids in Florida becoming interested in amateur radio and going for the amateur license, building my own transmitter and buying the best Hammarlund multi-band receiver I could afford. Putting up a dipole antenna, plugging a crystal into the transmitter and entering the whole wide world. (WWW back then for me) I worked, helped with the work at home, did my share of raising and amusing the kids, but in the deep of night I would be at my table, key at my fingertips, earphones on and lamp turned down low, very quietly treading the earth via the radio. Although I used code (I'se a brass pounder you see)it was possible for me to recognize some friend's fist through all the other signals. I remember one man I used to hook up with those nights, he was a farmer in Kentucky who was single, had an invalid mother he was taking care of as well as farming. We had some great conversations. I began to miss that avocation so much that I mumbled about wishing I still had all my gear and wanting to go for a license again.

The go behind history has never been related to me, but guessing a bit, I think Heather was telling our grandson about me missing my ham radio years. Anyhow, he took Grandma to Wal-Mart and under his guidance she purchased my first key back to the whole world. A Webtv set and wireless keyboard. With only one TV and one phone line I began to roam the web. Finally an extra TV set made its way to our apartment and we got another phone line and I could spend all the time I wasn't needed just doing my thing. Which I did. Back then I could still go without much sleep, and surfing was almost as restful to me as sleeping.

Open to me was anything I could Google up and the use of urls I had heard or read about. Music, museums, poetry, you name it and it was mine to use.

Somewhere in that year I found journals, at that time there were a few blogs I checked every day, but mostly it was journals and diarys. Of course, soon favorites began to shine through the warp and weft of the web, Bonnie's journal -- something to do with Rabble is all I can remember now. Today it is The Chattering. Sandy had one I loved to read, "Dirt Road Ramblin' " A senior web spinner was Jim Lawrence of "Jim's Journal" a sage of the internet and a great possessor of history, Al Schroeder of Nova Notes was among my favorites -- now he is in the comic world, but he is still there. And many, many others. I have heard the stories of pregnancy from the time the Mom knew she was that way until birth and beyond. I feel like a father, grandfather, great uncle to many a brood that I am still hearing about from their mothers.

Quirks of fate, Al Schroeder's journal at the end of each entry had a question which could be answered by any who cared to. I guess you would call it a kind of monitored message board. One could check the whole list of questions any time they wished to see what others said in answer. There were wide areas of agreement and disagreement on the questions -- no flame wars -- (that I know of). There was a person putting into the questions who thought so much like me that I began to e-mail this Kelli person. Found out she was a married lady, working in an office mid-continent. Al Schroeder's set up died a pitiful death, I began to notice nasty comments and such showing up more and more often which put the quietus on the whole thing.

So, I was in the process of relating to folks fairly early on. I in my glorious happiness, deaf now but could hear very well with my eyes thank you. In my various conversations I told ones and another that perhaps I would give a try on a diaryland site, in the back of my mind thinking a month or so and I would run out of words, but would have lots of fun for that short run. I had mentors, quite a few actually, who patted my head and urged me to try. So I did.

And the world, at least part of it was mine. I was truly having my say about things, ignorant as I am -- my opinion has merit at least in my own eyes and my ability to express them is a very valuable asset to my psyche.

Kelli ? Her daughter started first grade last year in the early fall, there is another daughter three years old, a son one -- no more in the offing. We have not lost track of each other, our friendship stronger than ever. I have accumulated a few cyber relatives, Kelli is my cyber-sister as is Bonnie, Becky, Wendy, Mz. Em and others. Two cyber brothers keep an eye on me too. Kellie joined the same group I belong quite some time ago. Bonnie as well and Sandy the first Mother of the group is still there as well as many other folks.

The Wondering Jew was born January 15, 2000 after a year of net-wandering, bringing happiness to me the whole time. Of course happiness is tempered by tragedies both to us and to others, yet we seem to come through them still navigable though sobered. Good things high light the way for us all too.

Walking back down the memory trail on ground already once covered, turning around and coming back up scuffing the pine needles of the Quiet Forest once more it is easy for me to see what a fantastic stroke of luck it was for me, was that Christmas present of a Webtv. And an added advantage, it has kept me out of Heather's hair and out from underfoot all this time.

Every so often I do something like this, for my benefit and possibly to the boredom of others ('scusa me). Tonight though not fish it has been a MULL-IT TIME . . . . . . .

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