Leaving a legacy
The need to write a will has been bobbing about in the back of my mind for a while now, so when I read [this article][1] by Reid, it struck a chord. I had also been idly wondering what would happen to my online existence if my organic existence ended suddenly. I know that it sounds like a bit of a morbid topic (and don’t worry—-I have no particular reason to believe that I’m about to check out), but it is worth giving some thought to.
The hubby and I don’t have a huge amount of material stuff to distribute, nor do we have children to worry about. We don’t own a house and have few savings, so there’s just the car, some IKEA furniture, hi-fi, computer, and a music collection. But the things we’ve created seem much more valuable and worth conserving. Mr. Bsag’s paintings are fairly easy to deal with; I know where they are, and would have no difficulty in physically accessing them and making sure that they were safe. But what about my writing here? I’ve written 770 posts here to date, and while they are by no means all worth saving for posterity, taken together they do reflect me in some meaningful way. In fact, this collection of writing probably represents the essence of me and my interests and opinions better than anything else tangible. And then there’s all the comments, forming a little community that I would hate to see disappear.
The problem is that with all the passwords, obscure URLs and technical challenges of accessing this material, the chances are that it would all just go quiet here, and when the hosting fees weren’t paid, it would disappear. I think I might have to sort out a kind of ‘load in case of emergencies’ CD with instructions on accessing my WordPress installation, passwords and so on, and make sure that those close to me know where it is.
[1]: http://photodude.com/article/2548/lifetime-web “The Daily Whim: Lifetime Web”
1
A friend of mine runs a very successful print-on-demand service. They're about to roll out a new business called Qoop, which, among other things, will enable anyone to order a printed version of a blog over an arbitrary period of time. That might be one way to protect the content (if not the accessibility).
by Joe Kissell @ 21/02/2005 12:02 am • Permalink •
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I was wondering about this too. May I Be Frank, CandyGirls blog is maintained despite her tragic death. her blog really caught peoples attention and is thankfully preserved for the moment. But for how long? Google is preserving a lot of oneline documentation and I believe Bill Gates has plans for a library of online material but this would suggest a filtering of material and therefore some inherent bias in selection. Joe Kissells/Qoops' solution seems ideal. It might also provide a handy lifeline to the occassional small and interesting publishing house too.
by Ian @ 21/02/2005 8:03 am • Permalink •
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The question of wether your blog is worth preserving for "posterity" is, I believe, truthfully unanswerable and perhaps actually irrelevant. Everything we do and are can be questioned as to it`s "ultimate" worth without any true answer. Even (I believe) with a faith in some sort of dubious divinity, most humans will be plagued at 3 am. with doubts as to the relevance of their lives, beliefs and actions. I think in the end we must rely on a kind of acceptance that what we do (children, art, careers, love etc.) in itself must be the answer and confirmation of our worth. I believe that your instinct (of course I am very much a *fan, so my judgement is perhaps prejudiced) in that the blog you have created reflects so much of what is yourself makes it desirable and worhty of preservation, is absolutely correct. Perhaps sometime in the future someone will have the pleasure of making your aquaintance and attain some inkling of who you were and the times you lived in. That thought is woth a smile and the attempt, or not?
*I am a fan: recently for some reason my wife googled my name. The only entry was in referece to a comment I made to a blog of yours about music. This realy cracked me up. That makes me some sort of internet remora to your low key blog shark (absolutely no negative meaning meant as to your blog or it`s style, which is definetely non aggressive, but I liked the analogy).
by john @ 21/02/2005 9:03 am • Permalink •
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A posting I actually understood, from start to finish!
dances round the room in glee *
remembers I'm at work and sit down quickly *
I have a will I need to change (beneficiaries have moved on/failed to keep in touch - yes, I know it's a two-way thing).
Hadn't considered the intrinsic value of a blog? And to my (insert name here? I leave my divers (sic) postings, worth damn all less fifty.
by Mr.D. @ 21/02/2005 12:02 pm • Permalink •
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Joe: That looks really interesting (I've signed up for notification). I was thinking that it would have to be done by my digital executors post-mortem or I would be continually getting new bits printed, but it struck me that this would be quite a nice idea. I could print a new 'chapter' every year or so for myself in a celebratory, "Hey! I'm still here!" kind of way, and be thankful all that extra living I've done.
Ian: I'm not sure that I'd trust Microsoft to look after anything, but perhaps that's just my bias
john: Aww, now I'm blushing. You're right that it's an impossible question. Part of my thinking was that however worthy or worthless this site is, it might be an interesting slice of one person's experience of early 21st century life in the future. I was also thinking about all the wonderful old photographs we have of my grandparents and great-grandparents, and wondering if the more ephemeral nature of digital photos, online writing and so on will still be there for our grandchildren to look at. I worry (perhaps unnecessarily) that in our celebrity-obsessed age, no-one will remember to record the lives of ordinary, non-famous people; those are the most interesting bits of history.
Hehe, remoras. Made me instantly think of that Gary Larsen cartoon of the shark looking in the mirror, with the caption, "The agony of remoras". But you're not a remora---you and all the other people who comment here are an equal and integral part of the but she's a girl ecosystem.
Mr. D: I love that image---made me smile. I can just imagine the disappointment on my descendants faces when they discover they've got bequeathed a stupid blog. Not that there's a lot else...
by bsag @ 21/02/2005 7:03 pm • Permalink •
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Hmm... Now you've had me thinking about this all day. Something else to lose sleep over...
I guess my family knows where I keep my "stuff" like my will/list of insurance/banks/debt. I should probably keep a list of my accounts/passwords and the related bills to them.
by Gary LaPointe @ 21/02/2005 8:03 pm • Permalink •
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Hmm... Now you've had me thinking about this all day. Something else to lose sleep over...
I guess my family knows where I keep my "stuff" like my will/list of insurance/banks/debt. I should probably keep a list of my accounts/passwords and the related bills to them.
by Gary LaPointe @ 21/02/2005 8:03 pm • Permalink •
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Of course it's worth preserving. Diaries become more, not less interesting with the passage of time. I have possession of the diaries of my great great grandfather spanning 7 years from 1863 when he was 15. They are absolutely fascinating. We also have some older family letters and other papers that similarly bring history alive in a way that only such primary sources can. Definitely get a hard copy of your blog. Then get a few children to pass them on to!
by ThoughtBadger @ 25/02/2005 10:02 am • Permalink •
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ThoughtBadger: That's fantastic! Was he a good writer? Getting a printed copy of my blog is likely to be the easy bit
by bsag @ 25/02/2005 7:03 pm • Permalink •
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