I am struggling to articulate the confusion and sadness that I feel right now. I knew this day would come, but still I wasn’t prepared. Whatever I write will be inadequate, so I will be brief:

He was an outstanding grandfather.

I’m glad I knew him. I will miss him.

Lloyd Herman Keacher

June 25th, 1918 ~ June 27th, 2007

I wonder if one of these could survive a slapshot? I guess the pros use one that mounts inside the helmet, but that seems even more out of reach.

Some of the cheaper ones on eBay claim to be “shock resistant”; maybe that’s good enough.

Oh, the amusement that would be had.  I figure it would take at least a couple of hours before it gets old.

(This post is part of the 100/100/100 challenge)

I wonder what will become of the data that I currently safeguard.

If I lose interest, become disabled, or die, will my digital photos, email, and writing be lost to the ages? What would happen to this web site? Could I rely on the Internet Archive?

Our ancestors left behind paper letters, book diaries, and silver halide photographs. Those items can be easily retrieved and read today. My bits of data are alarmingly fragile by comparison.  I am burdening my descendants with a never-ending race to keep ahead of format obsolescence and degrading media.

There must be a better solution.

(This post is part of the 100/100/100 challenge)

Despite the proliferation of online media, the printed page retains a certain cachet. Maybe it’s a perception of higher quality, or maybe it’s the limited nature of the resource.

Regardless, people want to be published. That’s why I found the relatively new photography magazine JPG so interesting. Readers can submit photos on the web site. If enough other readers vote for a photo, it will appear on glossy dead trees. Spiffy!

(This post is part of the 100/100/100 challenge)

It was a rush to watch the racers finish with a burst of speed. Even after 86 miles, nobody had managed to make a break from the peloton. I was there cheering them on, caught up in the frenzy around me. What a neat feeling. I wanted to be among those racing.

Comic relief, in the form of a kid’s race, came in the interlude between the men’s and women’s finishes. They should have co-branded it as a parent’s 5k, for most of the very young children were chased by their jogging parents around the course.

(This post is part of the 100/100/100 challenge)