Monday, August 24, 2015
And--somehow?--I've reached 1300 blog posts today. I've posted something nearly every day since I commenced back on January 6, 2012 (link to that first post). So ... either I have a lot to say, or I have nothing to say--and have proved it 1300 times now.
As is my custom, I check my stats only on these "anniversary" posts (each 100 of them), and I see right now (10:37 a.m.) that I've had 239,256 "hits" on the site--an average of 184 per post. But, looking at the stats, I recognize that some days I have far fewer, other days far more. It depends on the topic, of course, and whenever I write about politics or education, the number spikes a bit. So it goes. One hundred eighty-four sounds like a lot, but, of course, I am no celebrity blogger who gets that many hits per hour (or minute), so I remain (justifiably) humble.
But (as I probably have said before?) I write these mostly for myself--and for whatever posterity will ensue. I'm hoping that my son--and his sons--will one day page through them and learn more about their father and grandfather. (By the way--my grandsons, early on, began calling me "Silly Papa," a name they have recently shortened to "SP." I have no idea how I could have earned such a name!)
When I began this enterprise, I assumed I would post something Now and Then--maybe once a week or so? But my Puritan work ethic has transformed Now and Then to Every Damn Day, and I can hardly describe to you the anxiety I feel when it looks as if I'm not going to be able to post something on any given day. Self-imposed tasks have all (and maybe even more of) the authority and gravity of tasks that others impose upon me--not that there are too many of those these Days of Retirement.
Among the blessings (for me) of doing this--It forces me to write, and writing, of course, forces me to think (or at least it should). And so--by writing I figure out what I think about things, just as William Godwin (father of Mary Shelley) said some two hundred years ago.
And so ... while I'm able, I'll keep this little vessel afloat and see where winds and currents carry me. So far, they've taken me places I never would have expected--and brought me pleasures I did not know existed.
And perhaps one day a grown grandson will read and say, "Silly Papa wasn't always silly, was he?"