You never know who you’ll see on the morning commute.
Our view from the cheap(er) seats.
I just saw the “biggest pig in the world.” Mmmm… bacon.
On Saturday, Alison updated her Facebook status to read:
For those of you who knew my grandpa, I’m sorry to say that he passed away on Friday morning. For those of you who didn’t know him, I’m doubly sorry, because Norm Sculley was the greatest guy I ever knew. You would have loved him.
Aside from a couple of wakes I’ve had the terrible occasion to attend, I’ve only been a part of one funeral. It was my father’s, back in 2007, which seems like forever ago. Three years later, I’m still devastated by his passing and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him.
This was about as devastating. And it would be very easy to think, “Well, it was your wife’s grandfather. It must be sad, but you must have expected it. And it’s not like he was your grandfather.” I’m putting words in your mouth, I know, but you’re wrong. I come from a very small immediate family, the only child of two first-generation immigrants to the country. I know most of my gigantic extended family on my mom’s side and know nothing about the family, if there is one, on my father’s side. I lost the only grandparent I really knew into adulthood earlier this year, but even then I hadn’t seen my mother’s mother in fifteen years. Alison’s family IS my family, very largely due to the fact that her grandparents welcomed me into their family from day one, with no questions asked. In a lot of ways, they are my grandparents. I just didn’t know them as long. One of Alison’s relatives, married-esque into the family, said “I wish that I knew him earlier. It feels like I missed so much.” I feel the same way, and though I don’t know that my sorrow could match any any of my in-laws’, my own sense of loss is profound.
I feel like my grandfather died, because he did.
What I remember from three years ago is really hazy, just a fast-forwarded blur filled with gritted teeth and tears. Yesterday, I had the honor of serving as a pallbearer with my sister-in-law, my cousins-in-law, and my brother-in-law-in-law. At the end of the service, I had what felt like a near-out of body experience as a final blessing was said over his casket. I could see my in-laws following behind and I could only make out the faint echoing words of the priest as he concluded the Mass. It was eerie and made the hair on my arms stand up. I saw living sadness walking towards the church doors. I saw my family with their hearts ripped out, but also carrying about them a sense of peace. Sad and serene — but much more sad — at the same time.
He really was a great man, and he will be missed dearly. You can read more about him here.
I’ve been a pretty big believer in moving services to the cloud, and moving to Google wherever possible. I always figured that their reliability was always going to be greater than mine, and whenever something had a service outage, people generally tend to react more favorably to “It’s a Google problem” than “the server is down.”
Today’s news that Google Wave will no longer be developed came as a bit of a surprise, but also wasn’t completely unexpected. The service didn’t quite pan out (in my opinion, it was because it was never really explained and very difficult for a novice user to get into) and they decided to pull the plug. Makes perfect sense. But I spent at least a little time trying to get my faculty to buy into the idea that maybe we could transfer some of our information-disseminating meetings to Wave, and then tried to get them all to play along with dissecting the finale of LOST in a Wave. I even won a Google mousepad by sitting in on a Wave session at ISTE2010!
So much for that.
I suppose that a lot of the features in cancelled Google projects — aside from Wave, Notebook and Etherpad come to mind — get rolled into Google Docs, but it’s hard enough getting people to adopt new tools without then having to worry about how long the service (and my data) will be available.
So what to do? I’m personally making sure that cloud services that I use also post to sites and resources that I have control over — this Posterous blog, for example, auto-posts to my self-hosted blog. I suppose I could also try out Anthologize to further safeguard my blog. Most of my Flickr photos are also on my computer. I’m not advocating ditching cloud services, but if Google is willing to freely pull the plug on things, others are, too.