Smudging my digital fingerprints

My digital life is too complicated. I have too many usernames, addresses, accounts, IDs, passwords and profiles.

I started off intentionally trying to keep some parts of my digital life separate. Keeping home away from work. Keeping family away from hobbies. That sort of thing. But I am beginning to wish I was part of a younger generation that doesn't compartmentalize life that way. With all these accounts, it would be much simpler to just let me be me, regardless of which hat I'm wearing.

I am so tempted to just go through and start merging or deleting accounts and just let Google or Facebook be my conduit to the whole digital realm.

But that scares me too.

I thought I simplified my life when I was able to merge calendars and check multiple e-mail accounts on my cell phone. But I got digging around some of my accounts tonight and realized I don't know which one I use for some services anymore. And don't even get me started on things like phone numbers.

I couldn't tell you what my direct line phone number is at work if it wasn't printed on my business card. If my phone ever breaks and I'm left stranded on the side of the road, I wouldn't know who, or how, to call anyone for help. I guess I could call my parents. I remember their phone number. They've had the same one since 1973. That I can remember, but their address, which changed some years ago to make it easier for police and fire department find their house, well I haven't known their address since then. I think I have it in my GPS. If the battery is charged.

Can a former love be a friend? It depends

I posed the following questions the other day on Twitter and Facebook: Is it normal, or abnormal, to have exes as friends on Facebook or following on Twitter? How many exes do you have friending/following?

I wasn't sure if I would get any responses at all, but I got several. I appreciate people willing to share their thoughts on the issue. Here's what I got:

3 people responded on Twitter; 8 commented directly on the Facebook post and 1 sent me a message on Facebook.

Women commented more than men. 3 men replied, compared to 9 women.

Two of the people didn't divulge what they thought was normal behavior. Those comment questioned what the definition of normal was and whether I was normal.

And that's really what I was trying to figure out: Am I normal? There are women among my Facebook friends and Twitter followers than I have had relationships with in the past. Based on the replies I got, that's not uncommon. Six of the the 12 people who replied indicated that still had contact with people who they dated or had relationships with. Two other did not say if they had former lovers among their friends, but they indicated it was "normal" to do so.

Five people included numbers in their replies, which ranged from 1 to 12.

Two women who are both married indicated that their husband is aware of the relationship(s) they had with the person or people who are also Facebook friends.

Two people had pretty strong feelings about the issue and do not maintain contact with people they have dated. I respect those views and I even understand them a little better now than I might have earlier in my life.

One of my exes had similar views when we were together. She kept no photos of people she had dated and had seemingly tossed out all mementos of any kind. The fact that I still had some contact with some people from my past caused stress on our relationship. So, I cut off a lot of ties to my past during that relationship, not just to people I had dated but also to friends and family members. In the end, the relationship died (or was killed) by something else. I found I needed the people in my past to help me move forward and have tried to rebuild ties over the years with one notable exception -- the woman who had been so jealous of my past. It would be difficult to find any signs of her, or our time together, in my life now. I know she is on Facebook, but have made no effort to reach out. She taught me how to do that.

I don't know if I'm normal or not, but I most identify with this comment I received via Twitter: "I think it's a shame not to be friends with people you once loved. I understand it's not always possible."

In there interest of full disclosure, there are people on my friends list on Facebook and/or who follow me or I follow on Twitter who I have dated in the past.

Thanks to all who responded to the question. And thanks to women who have been such an important part of my past who are still part of my life, though in a platonic and far more limited way.

But the biggest thanks should be reserved for the understanding and trusting spouses, lovers and partners who are willing to allow people to maintain some form of contact with the people who have been important in a lifetime. Not everyone can, or wants to do that.

I hope whatever is normal for you and the important people in your life helps you find fulfillment and happiness in your life and relationships.

That's right, I'm not from Texas (but I've been there)

Facebook really is a pretty amazing thing. I think I found a guy who was an intern at the same time I was back in the late 1980s at the Corvallis Gazette-Times. He was from Texas and at the end of the internship, he invited me to drive back to Texas with him.

Perhaps it was because I had passed up any opportunity to visit Texas a couple of years earlier. I had dated a woman who was from Texas and she used to talk about taking me there. I really wasn't interested in going someplace I had never been before and where I didn't know anyone. It was outside my comfort zone. I came to regret that lack of interest and adventure.

So when the opportunity presented itself that summer, I think it was 1987, I decided to go and had a great time. It was a trip full of firsts.

Tom and I went out of our way to drive through Las Vegas, just because we could. It was the first time I had been to Vegas. It's ironic that in later years I came to love that city so much, because on that road trip, seeing Vegas in the middle of the day in late summer, it didn't impress. It was hotter than hell. The middle-age people roaming the streets in their polyester garb looked tacky as did the shiny, glittery facades of the city. I don't even know what part of the city Tom and I saw. It seemed so hellish and surreal. We didn't linger long and got the hell out of town and down the road.

We stopped at tacky souvenir shops. I wonder whatever happened to the Texas flag and set of steer horns I picked up on that trip? For years I had the University of Texas tank top I picked up in Austin. I was not a Longhorns fan, but it always reminded me of that trip and I loved that shirt.

Many of the memories of that trip have grown fuzzy with time. But some impressions of that trip have stuck with me. I remember seeing the El Paso city limit sign long before seeing El Paso, and then not seeing much of anything for hours and hours after passing the west Texas border town.

I would have loved to spend more time in San Antonio or San Marcos or Austin, but was only there a few days. The people there were amazing and made me feel so welcome. Maybe it was the soft Southern drawl so many spoke with, particularly the young women Tom introduced me to on the trip. They would say y'all and I would melt. I even started to say y'all too. I remember Tom chastising me for that. I think he thought I was making fun of his friends and the way they spoke. Far from it. I was fascinated, hypnotized by it. I wanted to be a Texan too.

Years later, I would think of that whenever I would hear Lyle Lovett's song "That's Right (Your Not From Texas)." I think if I had stayed there any longer, I may never have left. But all too soon I flew out of Austin and returned to Oregon. I left Texas, but I still carry parts of that trip with me.

I have a soft spot for Texas, or perhaps more accurately, Texans. Other than those few days, I've only been back in Texas to change planes at Dallas-Fort Worth. But Texans have been pivotal figures in my life. One is a friend who stood by me at my lowest point and helped me climb out of that pit. One is a friend who has shared his home, his cooking and his martinis and conversation and is willing to call me on my careless grammar (thanks Gene). And one was a former gymnast who introduced me to seafood and taught me to look beyond the outer image a woman presents to see the person inside.

And then there was Tom, who disliked country music except for a guy named George Strait, who's music I had never heard. Tom talked me in to traveling to Texas. And now, thanks to Facebook, I may be able to connect with someone I haven't talked to in decades. And, if nothing else, it got me thinking about some great times, great places and great people.

If you can't go home, sometimes home can come to you

Tom Wolfe wrote the book "You Can't go Home Again." I used to think Wolfe's title was right. I left the small town where I grew up 24 years ago for college and have been gone pretty much ever since, except for a couple of years in my mid 2os. The reason I used to think Wolfe was right about not being able to go home is that the home we return to isn't how, or what, we remember. The place changes. We change. Life goes on. But the truth is, there's really no need to try to go back to something that never leaves you. You take home with you wherever you go.

Friday night, home came to visit me.

Actually, we met up in McMinnville, where my alma mater was playing in a state football playoff game. The Echo Cougars vs. the Perrydale Pirates. To give you an idea of how small my town and school was, and still is, they compete in a league that plays 8-man football and many -- most -- of the players play virtually every play, on offense and defense. There was no cheerleading squad, just students and parents, cheering and changing in the stands.

Unfortunately, my old school, the Cougs, didn't win, but I feel like I did. I got to see some old friends, who now have children or nephews playing on the team and get caught up on some of the quarter century of life that's passed since we spent time together. Back then, I couldn't wait to get out of town. I felt trapped. Suffocated. People knew way too much about me and my business. But Friday night if felt good to be feel so at home, if only for a little while.

Congrats to the new parents and parents-to-be

I found out from my friend Karly's blog, that a couple of mutual friends and former colleagues had their first baby today. Congrats to Tom and Kara and their new baby girl, Lexi. There are photos on Tom and Kara's blog.

I worked with Jose and Karly and Tom and Kara in Palm Springs. They are among about a billion former colleagues who seem to be expecting lately. Fortunately, I can stay caught up with them through blogs or Facebook, even though we've now scattered all over the country.

It's sort of weird to have so many friends who are starting their young families and having kids because my daughter is getting ready to graduate from high school this year. It doesn't seem that long ago that we were all colleagues, friends and fellow singles. Up until recently I thought maybe someday I would marry and get a chance to be a traditional dad. The marriage part hasn't happened for me yet, but I haven't given up hope. However, I now am thinking that maybe being a parent again won't be in the cards. And I am growing more comfortable with that. I certainly don't feel old, but I am not sure I would have the energy I would want to have to be the parent of a newborn. I do enjoy getting to be Uncle Gary. Small kids are a joy. I think a great part of my interest in them comes from only spending time with my daughter in very small doses quite far apart when she was small. Perhaps it's trying to recapture part of her youth.

I am envious of my friends who are starting their young families. You are in for a great deal of joy, happiness and pride. There is no love like it. Tom's got that figured out already, as evidence by his post in which he describes his beautiful newborn daughter. Tom writes: "As I typed beautiful my eyes teared up. For the first time in my life, I truly understand what beautiful is."

Yea, Tom, you've got it bad. Just wait until you are sitting there watching some sappy commercial on TV that reminds you of your child and you choke up, your eyes fill up with tears. God forbid it's when the guys are all over watching football or something. It's OK, dude. The other dads will understand. They'll flip you no end of crap, but they are just doing that to keep from tearing up themselves.

Reliving the gory, glory days

This upcoming weekend, the Fourth of July weekend, is one I've been looking forward to for a long time. Now, for some unexplained reason, I find myself having mixed emotions about it.

I've been looking forward to it for months now because there is a reunion in my old hometown and I'm hoping to see a lot of old friends from school, many of whom I probably haven't seen in 20 years or more.

Our school was quite small, so we can't really have traditional high school reunions, where a particular class gathers at those various milestone years -- 5, 10, 20, 25 years, etc. If we did that for my class, there would only be 17 of us there, and spouses perhaps, and that's if everyone showed up, and if I'm rightly remembering the number of people in my class. Obviously, everyone would not show up. So, every so often a school/community reunion is scheduled where everyone from any year, or who has ever just lived in the community can show up. So, that might improve the odds that more than 17 people will be there, but it also means that people far younger, or older, than I and whom I don't even know will be there. It's not just classmates, or even immediate year schoolmates.

I already know at least one of my classmates, and the guy who was my best friend from second grade through college, won't be there. He has a family event to attend for the holiday weekend.

Maybe part of the reason I'm having mixed feelings is because I'm skipping out on a family event myself to attend this school/community reunion. But this is only the second school reunion like this I've heard about since I graduated. The only other one I knew about occurred when I was living in California and the time off just wasn't in the cards, or something. I don't really remember when it was or why I didn't go, but I didn't.

I am excited to see at least one person who I know is expected to attend. One of my old running buddies who now lives in Germany is bringing his wife and kids home to visit his family and they scheduled their visit to coincide with the reunion.

The friend in question was a few years ahead of me in school, and had a bit of a wild boy reputation. Why he ever let me hang out with him, I'll never know. But we had a good time pursuing, if never quite capturing the elusive females of the species on warm summer days and nights in a beat up Chevy Vega, or whatever vehicle I could manage to borrow from my folks.

In fact I even served as best man at his first wedding, a casual backyard affair. I had no clue what a best man was supposed to do, and in hindsight I was a lousy one, but I stood up with my friend and witnesses the momentous occasion, all the while fawning over his then-new bride's younger sister.

My ol' buddy and I got reacquainted not so long ago over the Internet. In fact he was the one who told me about the reunion. Obviously he's got better connections around the old homestead than I do. Given the time difference, we often catch up with each other just as he is starting his work day and I'm thinking I should head off to bed.

Getting a chance to get caught up should be worth the trip. And who knows, maybe there will be some still single, or single again, women there too. And I can get absolutely nowhere again with the girls-turned-women of my old hometown.

Sometimes I get quite nostalgic for home, that home of my youth, and the people I spent it with. But I don't miss the boy I was, perpetually shy and terrified of members of the opposite sex. The boy who was unsure of himself and his place in the world. That boy is, for the most part, gone. But his ghosts haunts the present day from time to time, like when I'm confronted with a new situation, or meeting new people in a purely social context. It's those times I wish I had my old running buddy or my old best friend to lead the way with their outgoing, seemingly unflappable natures. Their confidence, bordering on arrogance, was something I've never perfected, except sometimes in the working world. Sometimes, when I know I need to take a leap, not like the one at the swimming hole along the Umatilla River of my teens, I need someone to leap first to show me the water is deep enough. And sometimes I need someone to give me a little nudge to leave the relative security of solid ground to step out into thin air and feel the rush.

A night reminiscing reminiscing about sunny days gone by

It's rather amazing to find that when I have a life, and life it, I don't have much time to post to the blog.

Last weekend, I had the distinct pleasure of taking my daughter out to lunch for her birthday. And while I did find time to write a post about that, I haven't spent much time in recreational writing since then.

On Friday, a couple of friends and former coworkers were coming through Portland and I met them for dinner and drinks. We spent far too few fun-filled hours sharing stories of the old days (roughly about 3-8 years ago) when we worked together. There were tales of people we encountered along the way.

Two members of our party are now living here in the Northwest, still enduring a winter than refuses to yield to spring, in spite of the longer days an blossoms on the trees, now being beaten off the branches by those mythical April showers. But the third member of our triumvirate still lives in sunny Southern California. I'm sure you can tell who is the sun worshipper by the photo.

It fascinates me how sometimes time can melt away when friends or family get together after an absence. Weeks, or months -- even years -- can disappear, almost as if no time at all has passed. But for our little trio, a surprising amount of time has passed. It's been about five years since we shared a good meal, good drink, good stories and good laughs.

My friends, Julie and Cindy, and I worked together at a newspaper in Palm Springs. Working in an environment of deadline pressure and high expectations forged some tight bonds, and forced some others to unravel.

I feel lucky to have made some good friends during the years I spend in California. But there is a sadness to it too, realizing that circumstances and distance have scattered us to all corners of the country. I don't see so many of the people that I grew to admire and respect, personally and professionally.

But for a few hours on Friday, time not only stood still, but the clock turned backwards to a time when the 21st century was just beginning and the sun shone every day. And the days the sun didn't shine were so unusual that it made news.

My friend, the artist

I added a new blog to my list of links. It's called Black and Khaki. The blog belongs to a friend, Mark Crummett, from the ol' college days.

Mark and I worked together at the college newspaper at Oregon State, the Daily Barometer. That was back in the days when my journalistic pursuits involved cameras and lenses. I was fortunate to be a staff photographer when Mark was the photo editor there. But it got a little weird when I succeeded Mark as photo editor and he worked for me for a while.

In a very real way, I have to give Mark credit for my interest in electronic media. Mark was a veteran Internet user, probably even before there was such a thing as the Internet, or we knew it by that name. Mark had a computer at home and a modem that he could do all sorts of cool things with, like using e-mail, communicating with people on a service called CompuServe and using things like listserves. Back then (in the Dark Age days of the late 1980s), I didn't even have my own computer.

So perhaps it is appropriate that we are linked again via electronic means. Unfortunately, I haven't seen Mark in many years, but he has managed to stay in touch. I always look forward to seeing in my mailbox the creative Christmas cards he and Lisa come up. And now, his creativity will be on display in an art show by the Raleigh (N.C.) Fine Arts Society.

Congratulations Mark! I wish you great success with the exhibit!