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July 21, 2006
Ben has some kind of a way to figure out the geographic location (roughly) of people who seem to be looking at this blog. He discovered that there are apparently people in Connecticut signing on -- doubtless attracted by my reference to Seth G. Haley (and who, I ask you, can ever hear enough about Seth G. Haley? Or West Haven High School?)
Anyhow, that was rather exciting. It does present me with a new responsiblity, however. I fear that if I now have a readership that has expanded beyond my wife, son, daughter (and one friend of my son who I believe is reading this material out of some kind of misbegotten sense of politeness . . . . in the way some forester might hang around in the woods a lot, in order to protect the feelings of trees that may have fallen in the woods and deserve to be heard, beyond a philosophic certainty). The responsiblity, as you might intuit, would be to keep those Seth G. Haley and West Haven High School stories coming.
Were I to genuinely attempt this feat, it would represent a subtle, yet potent, irony. Here, I asked Ben to put a picture of Seth G. Haley on the site, in lieu of my own. The next step was to start the blog by disclosing that fact, and explaining a little about Seth G. Haley. And now, it would appear, I am perilously close to writing as endlessly as is humanly possible about Seth G. Haley. All of which, were I to attempt it, would lead me to put my picture on the blog, and change the name of the blog to "Seth G Haley's blog." [I suppose that perhaps I could start using his name on credit cards then, but that seems like the kind of thing that not only lands you in jail, but also in one of those funny little "Stupid Bad Guys" articles that the Readers Digest seems to love these days.
This is not intended to cast any stones in the direction of the Pleasantville (honest to goodness) headquarters of the Readers Digest. In fact, up to a certain point in my life I believed that practically everything of value I learned came from the Readers Digest, with the exception of the history and biology I learned in 7th grade (go ahead -- ask me to name a bone in your body. I can do it unless it happens to be the scapula, in which case I'll be confused as to whether that's your collar bone or something else). Also, I think I learned a fair amount from the annual holiday present of the World Almanac, a book I continue to love dearly. And I learned a fair amount from my parents. But, the Readers Digest was right up there.
I learned, for example, that if you're attacked by a bear you should play dead, and the bear will likely leave you alone (for more, see the RD article, "ATTACKED BY A GRIZZLY"). I learned not to take any chances of getting into trouble in school (see the RD article: "High School Hi-Jinks that can Haunt Your Life"). I learned about alliteration (see, again, "High School Hi-Jinks that can Haunt your Life.")
I loved the Laughter, the Best Medicine. And I had dreams -- no kidding here -- about finding huge piles of unread Reader's Digests in some previously undiscovered attic space.
These days I don't seem to find that the Digest holds my attention as much, but Sandy seems to really like it. That makes me happy. Goodness knows, if that turns out to be my legacy, I'll be a trifle disappointed. But it's a start.
Ben has some kind of a way to figure out the geographic location (roughly) of people who seem to be looking at this blog. He discovered that there are apparently people in Connecticut signing on -- doubtless attracted by my reference to Seth G. Haley (and who, I ask you, can ever hear enough about Seth G. Haley? Or West Haven High School?)
Anyhow, that was rather exciting. It does present me with a new responsiblity, however. I fear that if I now have a readership that has expanded beyond my wife, son, daughter (and one friend of my son who I believe is reading this material out of some kind of misbegotten sense of politeness . . . . in the way some forester might hang around in the woods a lot, in order to protect the feelings of trees that may have fallen in the woods and deserve to be heard, beyond a philosophic certainty). The responsiblity, as you might intuit, would be to keep those Seth G. Haley and West Haven High School stories coming.
Were I to genuinely attempt this feat, it would represent a subtle, yet potent, irony. Here, I asked Ben to put a picture of Seth G. Haley on the site, in lieu of my own. The next step was to start the blog by disclosing that fact, and explaining a little about Seth G. Haley. And now, it would appear, I am perilously close to writing as endlessly as is humanly possible about Seth G. Haley. All of which, were I to attempt it, would lead me to put my picture on the blog, and change the name of the blog to "Seth G Haley's blog." [I suppose that perhaps I could start using his name on credit cards then, but that seems like the kind of thing that not only lands you in jail, but also in one of those funny little "Stupid Bad Guys" articles that the Readers Digest seems to love these days.
This is not intended to cast any stones in the direction of the Pleasantville (honest to goodness) headquarters of the Readers Digest. In fact, up to a certain point in my life I believed that practically everything of value I learned came from the Readers Digest, with the exception of the history and biology I learned in 7th grade (go ahead -- ask me to name a bone in your body. I can do it unless it happens to be the scapula, in which case I'll be confused as to whether that's your collar bone or something else). Also, I think I learned a fair amount from the annual holiday present of the World Almanac, a book I continue to love dearly. And I learned a fair amount from my parents. But, the Readers Digest was right up there.
I learned, for example, that if you're attacked by a bear you should play dead, and the bear will likely leave you alone (for more, see the RD article, "ATTACKED BY A GRIZZLY"). I learned not to take any chances of getting into trouble in school (see the RD article: "High School Hi-Jinks that can Haunt Your Life"). I learned about alliteration (see, again, "High School Hi-Jinks that can Haunt your Life.")
I loved the Laughter, the Best Medicine. And I had dreams -- no kidding here -- about finding huge piles of unread Reader's Digests in some previously undiscovered attic space.
These days I don't seem to find that the Digest holds my attention as much, but Sandy seems to really like it. That makes me happy. Goodness knows, if that turns out to be my legacy, I'll be a trifle disappointed. But it's a start.
posted by Ben's Dad | 2:09 PM
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