anniversary Archives - Page 7 of 14

12 Years blogging

I’m having trouble enough moving forward in blogging.

Somehow, for the past twelve years, I have managed to write a blog post at least once a day, I realize that I’m a piker compared to some. Dustbury has been posting since 1996, but at least I’ve gotten to 4/7th of his total, roughly.

This last year was probably the toughest, technically. The provider I had came about because I had won some online contest back in 2010. I got six months free before paying a fairly modest fee. I was happy because I understood a “real” blogger has one’s own URL. (I’m seriously rethinking that position.) But starting in 2013, I experienced a number of outages. In the last year, it happened on 21 June, 20 November, 9 December, and 23 February, some for a considerable duration.

Then on 9 March, my provider sent me this message:

The datacenter cost has gone up extremely and I have had to reconsider my position of offering web hosting. Within the next few months all clients will be cancelled as their contracts come up for renewal.

Roger you will need to register at https://www.namecheap.com/myaccount/signup.aspx so that I may push your domain name to you so you can manage it and make changes to the server names, renewals etc..

You will also have to find web hosting with another company within the next month and transfer your website files and MySQL database to the new host.

To make backups of your domain name simply login to your cPanel account and click the BACKUP icon. Be sure to backup the home directory and the database to insure you have all your files.

To login to cPanel use the following information…:

This was a hard decision for us but we just cannot continue with the cost that’s associated with the datacenter.

Once you have found a new web hosting company and moved all your files, please let me know so I can remove your files from the server.

Ugh. I don’t even know what half of that MEANS.

At this point, I started manually moving all my completed, but not yet live, posts, and the posts in draft to another blog, https://rogerowengreen.wordpress.com, where I had managed to capture my posts from the beginning of my blog to September 2014. (It occurred to me, in retrospect, that if I hadn’t moved the files from my first five years on my original blog http://rogerowengreen.blogspot.com/ then all the files would have moved to the WP backup.)

Then on 28 March, I got a “Where are you at with this transfer?” message. My blog was down for over a day while files…do whatever files do, but at least I had a secondary site for people to do. That site has, in addition to my posts from October 2014 and earlier, the ones from February 21, 2017 and forward.

If time were no object, I’d copy those 2.3 years from the current blog to the backup. But I’m having trouble enough moving forward. I compose in blog B, and then copy to blog A. This takes a little longer each day. As a result, my blog reserve has been more than halved. Worse, the number of posts in draft have ALSO shrunk.

So we’ll see what the next year brings.

How I drove my parents bonkers as a kid

My mother was usually oblivious to the reference.

Jaquandor asked what I believe is the last of the Ask Roger Anything questions for this round, which I held off answering until now, because today would have been my parents’ 67th wedding anniversary:

What’s the thing you remember doing as a kid that drove your parents bonkers? (I’m talking harmless stuff here, nothing like playing with matches. Mine was to flick those spring-things with the rubber tip that keep the door from smacking into the wall as it opens. You pull those things over and let them go and you get this fun, loud BRRROOOOIIINNNGGG! sound as the spring snaps. Drove my mother NUTS.)

First off, I’m SHOCKED by your behavior as a child.

Secondly, I had the hardest time coming up with an answer to your questions. I even asked my two sisters, and they couldn’t think of anything.

I mean, I drove my father bonkers, but I didn’t see him feeling that it was harmless stuff. For instance, when I was in elementary school, I would watch the other kids play softball on the playground. And then those kids would go home, and other kids, who had already gone home, would return to the playground and play, and I’d watched them.

I almost never played myself, unless a team was really shorthanded, and they’d stick me in right field. I loved the game, but I wasn’t particularly good at it. I got better by the time I got to college, but not in 4th or 5th grade.

So I wouldn’t get home for hours after classes ended, and sometimes this would really anger my father, so much so that he’d pull out the strap – or worse, make ME go get the strap, so that he could use it on me. Well, at least once.

As for my mother, I did use to take words she said and add lyrics from the popular songs of the day. So if she were to say, “We go to get,” I’d respond, “if it’s the last thing we ever do,” evoking an Animals song. Or if she needed some help, I say, in my best Beatles voice, “you need somebody, not just anybody.” I don’t recall using these exact examples – and I can’t remember what I DID say – but it’d be something like that.

Truth is that my mother was usually oblivious to the reference, which was actually quite entertaining to me. I don’t think it really irritated or as much as mystify her. “What IS he talking about?” she must have thought.

Dad’s grave

My dad wasn’t much on that type of sentimentality.

Visiting the gravesites, beyond the limits of geography, is a very personal preference, I believe. I don’t think I’ve visited my dad’s grave more than two or three times. Of course, when he first died, on this date in 2000, the headstone wasn’t ready.

I know I made at least one trip, maybe two, to the military cemetery 40 miles north of Charlotte, NC, with my mother and at least the sister who lives in North Carolina, and very likely, her daughter.

The last time, I’m sure, was when my mother died in 2011. Both of my sisters and their daughters, my wife and MY daughter all attended the burial. She’s interred next to dad, and the headstone has now been replaced to represent both of them, with information on each side. I’ve actually never seen mom’s side of the headstone, except in photographs.

But my dad wasn’t much on that type of sentimentality. His mom died in the early 1960s, about a decade before he moved from Binghamton, NY to North Carolina. I have no recollection of taking us to visit her grave in the Floral Avenue Cemetery in Johnson City, NY. And I just can’t imagine him going on his own.

Indeed, I didn’t even remember – or more correctly, misremembered – where she was buried until about three years ago, which I wrote about.

Spring Forest Cemetery in Binghamton I went by virtually every single weekday growing up. It’s three or four blocks from the house I grew up in, and even closer to my maternal grandmother’s house, where I went each school day for lunch. we used to cut through the cemetery to play baseball at Ansco field.

My paternal grandfather died in 1980, and he’s buried in Spring Forest, or at least I think so. I doubt my father ever made a trek up to Binghamton to visit the grave.

So I guess I’m trying to make myself feel less guilty – guilty may be overstating it – about not going to what is now my parents’ gravesite. I DO have pictures.

I’ve grown accustomed to her face

This is wedding anniversary #17.

The last week in April was a school vacation. The Wife and The Daughter were going to go to visit Philadelphia to see one of the former’s sisters-in-law and nieces.

I was thinking, “Hey, this will be my chance to tackle all the things I never get a chance to do.” I’d read, and catch up on blogging – it was taking a beating that month – and all sorts of Roger stuff.

I wouldn’t have to negotiate using the computer, or hear about Dancing with the Stars – I REALLY don’t care!

More than that I figured I would sleep better because I wouldn’t have to worry about someone hogging the sheets. And I didn’t have to get up with alarm.

Much to my surprise, I slept terribly all week. The first night I had this weird dream about trying to hide an affair from my wife; the “other woman” was a married lesbian friend of mind. In the dream, it was an exhausting exercise. And when I awoke, I felt pretty much the same way.

By the time I saw my family Thursday night, I felt like – do you remember those old clothes washers with wringers, like that one pictured? You put the clothes through the wringer to get rid of excess water, making the drying process on the clothesline so much easier. The phrase being put through the wringer came to mind.

So I’m pretty self-sufficient. I can feed myself, and take care of the cats, go shopping. The family’s been away before, but this time…I don’t know how, but it was different. I missed them more, for some reason.

Anyway, this is wedding anniversary #17. Now that Downton Abbey is over, I have to struggle to buy presents, because The Wife remains difficult to shop for. I’ll think of something…

I’ve grown accustomed to her face Song cue

Eleven years of blogging

I have long suggested that blogging, for me, is some sort of therapy.

Eleven years of blogging? If I knew now what I knew then, I’d probably do it anyway.

A month and a half ago, Ken Levine wrote a post called The link between successful writers and mental illness. Yes, there is one.

Andreas Fink at the University of Graz in Austria… found a relationship between the ability to dream up ideas and the inability to turn off that function in the brain that is always thinking…

We writers are constantly making associations between external events and internal memories. Make it stop!

Another study claimed successful individuals were eight times more likely as “regular” people to suffer from a serious depressive illness…

Lots of successful scribes have battled with extreme depression. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Twain, Dickinson, Tennessee Williams, Eugene O’Neill – just pick any writer Woody Allen reveres.

The theory as to why there is rampant depression is the following: We think a lot, we’re often isolated, and we tend to be narcissists. And that’s for the good writers. Imagine how much worse it is for [crappy] writers.

I don’t know that I’m a good writer. I DO know that I suffer that function in the brain whereby, even in sleep, my mind is processing what I want to write. And when it’s the case that I don’t have time to do so, the brain, the mood, the temperament gets…skewed.

I have long suggested that blogging, for me, is some sort of therapy. You all are my public shrink. Well, maybe not, in as much as I started writing before anyone was looking. Perhaps you’re all part of my group therapy session?

Maybe seven times this past year, I reposted older material, including three of the four Black Comic Book posts (one’s still to come) that were SEVEN posts when I first wrote them. I imagine this year will be the same use of older material, more or less. When I hinted at doing this a couple years ago, a few of you feared that it would be too familiar. I trust that I’ve allayed that particular fear.

As you know, I often write ahead in my blog, but, because of annoying things, such as LIFE, the number of posts in the queue is down significantly, 36% from the peak. This means that one of these days, I’m going to wake up, realize I have no post prepared, and will scurry around looking for a picture of one of my cats.

In any case, today represents my 4,019th consecutive day of blogging, which surely PROVES a certain mental illness. I plan to continue to “lie on the couch” for at least another year.