Deletion
I deleted some online contacts, today. One was Byron Quick. Byron passed away a few years ago. He was a nurse, and a Georgia cracker, and had been a fellow staff member at www.TheFiringLine.com, and at www.TheHighRoad.org. I hunted with Byron, and took meals with Byron, and was his guest, once. I miss his company.
Another was William Bligh-Glover, MD. I wrote here of his passing. I never met him. Still I thought of him as a friend.
Another was Jason Pittman. Jason and I were students in grade school through high school, together. His mother was my teacher. His father was an assistant scoutmaster of my troop. Jason, I am given to understand, fell into drugs and depression (who knows which caused the other), and he took his own life. He had been an Eagle Scout.
The day after his father was buried, I watched my Chief, a friend, delete his father from his cell phone, saying that it was silly to keep it in there. I shook my head, not sure that I could do such a thing with such a cavalier attitude. But I don't think (looking back) that he did it without thought. A photo or a note or a subscription to or a social media "friendship" does not a relationship make. You carry that in your heart. It is not a flag, that you wave.
I don't believe in ghosts. I wish that I did. But I've got some of these people's transferred personalities stored within my wetware*, and so I guess that they live on. In the meantime, this picture reminds me of an adventure in Georgia with my friends. I think that Tamara was already gone, but I don't recall who took this picture. JPG or John may recall. That's Byron in the middle.
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*If I could, would I be stored as a RAM AI, like Neuromancer? If I were simply a ROM AI, I would want to be deleted, like Dixie Flatline.
Labels: babbling, brooding, friends, pictures, reminiscing
posted by Matt G @ 5:03 PM
4 Comments:
That was one of my favorite adventures yet.
"If I were simply a ROM AI, I would want to be deleted, like Dixie Flatline. "
Me, too.
My experience, each of us handles it differently... But you're right, the 'wet' memory still has all those folks inscribed and always will.
PS: It's funny, because I was just talking about Byron with Pax the other day. Reminiscing about how he'd occasionally come visit for a couple days and we'd spend hours in companionable silence reading on the porch, punctuated by occasional short periods of conversation. Only a real introvert would understand how precious and enjoyable those times were. :)
I still have the last text messages exchanged with a co-worker (and former marine) who was killed by an accidental discharge almost a year ago.
I had a moment of panic when quite a few of my messages didn't make the trip when I transferred my info from my old phone to my new.
Just not ready to hit delete with this one...
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