Here's our collection of 2021 photos, which will grow.                

2021 Thursday, Aug 26th.  We spent two weeks on the road in our truck, pulling our T@B trailer to Camrose and Edmonton.  We took Lego to Callum, and gifts to other relatives.  It cost about four times what Swoop Air and a week of car rental would have cost (I did a cost analysis upon our return), and it was a grueling drive: three long days out there and five shorter ones to get home, including a visit with Clare and Pat in Uffington, and Brian and Theresa in Orillia.  It was safer than flying, I'm sure.  But not something I'd want to repeat.  I hope we'll soon get our third covid booster and learn about data that'll make us confident about sharing aerosols with other plane passengers.  The risk then will be, as Deb argued, that if anyone on your plane tests positive, they will make you quarantine on arrival as well, because there are "break-through infections" which allow transmission even from double-vaxxed people who don't feel anything themselves.  Not so dangerous to you, but you can still pass it on to others who are at risk.
    Out west, we saw Mom, Andrew, Heather and Ed. Andrea and Corey, Davin, Erin, Callum and Clara, Dianne, Kris and Miranda, Dylan, Georgiana and Mackenzie, Emily, and Peter who drove up from Comox for a canoe trip in the Wild Hay and to meet his granddaughter for the first time. 
    On the way we saw six moose and a number of deer.  A doe and two fawns waited politely until we came to a stop on the highway, then crossed in front of us.  We surprised a cow moose halfway across.  We learned that sleeping overnight at Walmarts is still a thing, and some towns have free overnight parking.  Russell, Manitoba maintains its Peace Park for overnight visitors, including electricity.  White River, Ontario, has free overnight parking at its Visitor centre, which also has free wifi.  That's the town where Winnie the Pooh was bought by an army lieutenant to be taken to England as a regimental mascot, there to spend his life in the London zoo, where he enchanted Christopher Robin and A.A. Milne.  That was preferable to taking him to the front, I'm sure.
    There were many things I'd have enjoyed seeing along the way - lots of museums, for example, and scenic spots - but we didn't feel we had time to stop.  Smoked fish is largely no longer sold anywhere, and where it is, it is very expensive.  We ate mostly at Macdonald's restaurants.  The T@B was good for us, with its comfortably cushioned King Size bed and insulated walls, but we discovered that the floor is a bit spongy so I'll have to pull up the flooring and reinforce that; and some electricals don't work: the blower for the furnace, and the radio.  I'm not sure about the frig, we didn't try that.  The temperatures seemed unseasonably cold on the prairies.  We woke up to 3 degrees in Russell, Manitoba, which was a fine time to learn that our furnace can't run because the blower won't go.  Other mornings were 9, 12, or 14.  Here in Toronto it has topped 30 degrees for the past three days since we got home.  We might get relief tomorrow - mid-twenties are forecast.
    We had one slow leak in the left tire which I pumped with a bicycle pump until we got home, and will now get repaired.  I pulled the plastic bumper off an old 2005 Accura in the Tera Losa parking lot, and although the damage to my truck looks slight, it might be a total write-off.  We'll be told next week.  We have a $500 deductible, and I don't know if I have "one accident forgiveness" yet.  We experienced some hard shifting after the Northern Ontario hills, by the time we reached Sudbury, because I tried to avoid using the trailer tow button, to save gas (risking transmission damage, of course).  The transmission got hot and the fluid got too thin to do its job.  In one old car I had, you could actually see it foam when it got to that state.  There's some valve lifter noise which I can treat with an oil additive for now.  I'm ambivalent about our choice of trailer.  I was excited when we first saw them on Vancouver Island twenty years ago.  The bed is great but at 1700 lbs compared to a 900 lb Boler, Scamp or Casita, I've decided that I'll unload this if I can find an older, smaller trailer that I can rebuild inside to create a decent sized bed.  A large bed is all we really need in a trailer, along with a place to sit on rainy days, and room to stand up to change clothes.  Stoves, fridges and furnaces are redundant for summer camping.  The RAV is only rated for 1500 lbs; so it won't pull the T@B, but it would do for a Boler or one of its cousins.
    It was good to reconnect in person with the tribe out west.  Zoom doesn't really cut it, compared with an in person visit.  Last night we went back to the community centre for our instrumental play alongs, which was fun - first time I've played the keys in a year and a half.

    Sunday, July 18th.  Yesterday was our Sailpast at HYC.  We were rained out again, but I played Heart of Oak for the flag raising, and accompanied Alex on the violin with my tenor guitar, very inexpertly, by ear. Next time, I'll use a my six string for a fuller sound and more bottom end support for his violin, and proper accompaniment chord charts. The food, from a food truck called in for the purpose, was good but a terrible rip-off in terms of quantity for price, as most previous club special dinners have been. 
    Last Wednesday our community centre guitar group got together for the first time in eighteen months (because of the pandemic lock down) and we played together on Peg Everall's back patio.  There were a dozen of us, I think.  Peg had a large screen tv mounted on a stand with wheels, and everyone could see and play from the same charts.  We chose old favourites from Ozbcoz and the San Jose uke site.  It's the most musical fun I regularly have.  The yacht club remains a bust, musically, with Alex yesterday being the rare exception.
    We were going to sail on Affinity with Don during Sailpast.  It rained anyway, but we couldn't have gone out because Don is ill with prostate/bladder issues that required a trip to Emergency, although he is home now.  We worry and wait to see what the urologist tells him tomorrow  Perhaps there is a surgery in his near future.  We took his prepaid supper choices from HYC to their house for him and Jackie.  Jackie is trapped in the house now taking care of Mary and now Don.  We'd been going to their house every second Wednesday with bento boxes from Momiji.  We'll probably continue doing that, to help Jackie maintain a social life beyond talking to her neighbours on the front lawn.
    Don can't play music in his condition.  We lost Wayne Farrant to Alzheimers this past winter.  I'm not keen to play with Carlos, whose judgment worries me because of his covid decisions.  He's been an anti-vaxxer throughout.  I'll try to move in another direction at the club, if I play there at all.  Possibilities include Alex, Mike and Hope Thomas, and another guitarist, Rory somebody.  But I might need to brush up my keyboard chops, since that's always going to be the instrument that I play the best.  Since keyboard players are less common than guitar players, that instrument is most in demand with fiddlers and violinists, rock or pop combos, or jazz combos.  I might hunt for a more lightweight portable keyboard with an integrated amp and speakers.
    I sold one of my tenor banjos to a fellow in Ottawa, and sent it to him by UPS on Friday.  I'm gradually cutting back on my collection of musical toys, and might focus on keyboard, except for campfire situations, and perhaps the odd swing band or street band situation for jazz standards.  I got fairly proficient during the pandemic lock down with a number of new instruments, but getting better at them may be more difficult because my brain is getting older, and also because as long as I am young and medically insurable I'd rather spend my winters and part of my summers traveling.  I've sold two of my keyboards, a number of accordions, all but one of my guitars, five of my eight fiddles, one of my two tenor banjos, and my trumpet.  I have one remaining keyboard, one trumpet, one guitar, one tenor banjo, one tenor guitar, one five string banjo, one baritone horn, two clarinets, one alto sax, one accordion and three fiddles, only one of which I actually use.  So, fourteen instruments that I still need to whittle back to a useful number of perhaps nine or less.
    The garden is coming along well.  We've had a very rainy July, without too much heat, so by the midpoint of summer my photos of the garden will look great.  We've been eating bush beans for over a week and the pole beans are beginning to produce.   It has been a good year for cucumbers.
We've eaten two and there are several more large ones on the vines.  We've eaten three zucchinis, and a bumper crop of raspberries - Deb picked 3 litres today.  We have many green tomatoes, but none have turned red yet.
    We had supper at the Sortwells last Saturday for the first time in a year and a half.  It used to be almost a once a month event.  I participated in about five Spanish-English zoom calls and began responding in Spanish to questions they posed.  I continue studying my conjugations every morning for a half hour or more, and I'm gradually increasing my accuracy on a daily twenty question drill of randomly selected verbs, including irregular ones.  This morning I achieved eighty-five percent, although I can only do that by checking my answers before I hit enter, and even then my brain sometimes misses a tense or an irregular spelling. 
    We had an HYC Canada Day celebration which was an opening of sorts at the club, although the interior of the clubhouse was still out of bounds until July 16th when Ontario went into stage three of the re-opening.  It was nothing special, but we ate poutine and smoked meat sandwiches.
    We put on our mast this year, and I've been focusing on little things I can do to tweak the boat back to perfect sail-able condition, which will also make it saleable, and we have decided that we will pursue a sale once it is ready.  I'm reinstalling the aluminum gas tank, repairing the wiring and dual battery system, and generally sprucing it up.  I'll make a web page with photos and features listed.  We're ready to embrace our age, and move back to a smaller boat at SBSC, or none at all until we've moved out west, if that's what we're eventually able to do.  Life is complicated.  We're not certain what we'll end up doing, or how or when we'll end up there.  We may die in place in this house, but that won't be my first choice - neither the dying, nor the house.  I'm ready for a change.

    Monday, June 21st.  Two days ago I saw a photo from 2014 of our train in Vietnam going around the mountain spurs of the Hai Van Pass on the way to Da Nang.  We could see the two locomotives and the first six carriages from our carriage window near the rear of the train.  I've spend a few months during the pandemic lock down reading old letters from my teenage years at private school, home to my parents.  My father saved them all, so now they are like a diary.  I once burned a section of my own diary in a fireplace in a fit of despair about my life, so these are a joy to still have.  Reading them is a deeply reflective experience, humbling and revealing at the same time.  My thoughts at that time explain a lot about the origins of my value system, and the impetus for subsequent choices, both good and bad.  The train photo became a metaphor for this process, looking back at the formative years of my life from my vantage point fifty years later.  There were bumps along the way, but it all worked out, and the old letters are a source of current wisdom.
    We are in the process of repairing wiring for mast head and steaming lights on our sailboat mast, and attaching a new whip antenna at the mast head.  The old whip worked loose and whipped off in the wind, into Lake Ontario, about three years ago.  A replacement whip - a simple thin length of wire of indeterminate metal - cost almost a hundred dollars at the Rigging Shoppe.  We didn't even step our mast last year because of the pandemic, but this year, although launch was delayed a month, we are going ahead with stepping the mast, slowly.  By July 1st we'll have our boat "commissioned" and rigged out, ready to sail.  We still don't have access to our clubhouse, except for the washrooms, but we'll have a celebration on the patio, with extended seating, on Canada Day.
    We've planted just about everything we have room for in our garden.  I was resolved to have a smaller garden this year in order to leave ourselves free to travel, but travel is still not permitted or recommended - although it is coming soon, we believe, except for the looming risk of spread of the Delta covid variant that emerged in India.  So I kept filling the time by filling planter pots.  Many plants are too closely packed with cherry tomato seedlings, and I'm now spending a few daily hours pulling callaloo, clover and other weeds from planter pots and garden.  But we've been eating radishes - my month long crop has come and gone - and perrenial green onions, then hascap berries and leaf lettuce.  We ate radish green soup and a few meals of callaloo, which we also gave away to neighbours.  Swiss chard failed because of leaf miners for the second year, and arugula bolted much too soon, but I turned those planters over with an enormous crop of buttercup squash seedlings.  Bush beans are flowering, peas have formed, and raspberries are preparing for the July fruiting.  We are still eating frozen beans from our freezer, from last year.
    Music still consists of solitary playing in my living room.  Patrick said we could meet at the community centre in a group of up to ten, outdoors, but I only got Peg and Neil interested last week.  I might try again this week.  At home, I enjoy playing my tenor guitar the most and I'm gradually finding all my chords with more and more fluency.  Regular guitar is fun for flat picking bluegrass and "celtic" tunes.  I still play my fiddle and my 5 string banjo although not as much as the tenor guitar.  I play my trumpet to keep my lip in shape, and occasionally my clarinet and my alto sax.  I rarely touch my keyboard but that instrument is like riding a bicycle for me so I'll get to use it when I have an opportunity to play with other musicians.
    I'm planning to spiffy up the sailboat, take photos, and begin the process of selling it - taking people aboard and out on the water.  And we'll spend time digging out all our camping gear and equipping our trailer, having the truck serviced, and preparing for a trip west - in July?  August?  We don't know yet.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed.  Deborah will have to visit her mother and sister in Montreal as soon as they all feel safe to visit.  Since we have all had our second vaccinations now, it shouldn't be long.
    That's how the days are going as we bring in the summer.  Yesterday, the 20th, was the 2021 Summer Solstice.

Monday, May 31st.  I've been able to edit one or two  of my travel diary entries each morning over the past several months, fixing clumsy text and expired links, and adjusting the awful colour in the photos from my little shirt pocket camera on those travels - the neon lime greens, the overly dramatic reds, and the skin tones that looked like angry sunburns. 
    Overnight, Deb and I got email invitations to receive our second dose of Pfizer vaccine, which had previously been scheduled for July 15th.  That's a significant time contraction: from sixteen weeks down to ten weeks.  That means that two weeks from now, the middle of June, we should feel fully protected and able to travel - just when the campgrounds and provincial borders are expected to reopen.  There was some confusion in the instructions about whether we are actually eligible; the info says that people 80+ are eligible, but they did send the invitation to us and we were able to complete the form in spite of entering our birthdates.  Our appointment was honoured without a hitch. 

Wednesday, April 21st.  Some day I'll read this diary and wonder how I filled my days during the Great Pandemic Isolation. Covid19 cases are climbing again and its a race between the vaccination program and the increasing infection rate caused by illogical lock down rules and "covidiots".  Doug Ford's gov't hasn't vaccinated essential workers or shut down non-essential factories, and hasn't instituted sick days so that workers can afford to stay home, so the spread continues.
    Here's a description of my days.  These are incredibly routine cookie cutter days that I follow with regimented discipline using my digital diary.  I'm told that this kind of routine reduces stress during such a time. 
    I rise at six, check stocks reports, study Spanish for a half hour, and spend a half hour "armchair traveling" through my own travel diaries - editing, repairing broken links, viewing my photo albums).  I'm up to March in New Zealand right now.  I spend a half hour reading actual books as opposed to reading online. 
    Deb is usually asleep during these hours; on some days she gets up around 8 am to do fitness classes online, but on other days she sleeps until 9 am.  Throughout the day she shops or plans her shopping, and spends a lot of screen time on the internet.  She spends many long hours helping her mother (who remains isolated in her apartment in Montreal) on a campaign of advocacy for her youngest sister in her group home in Montreal - using remote control to her mother's computer to help her navigate the technology, scan documents and participate in zoom calls and Teams meetings.  Sometimes she helps me in the garden.
    After breakfast I play music throughout the day but my motivation is currently a bit low and I don't get to every instrument in sequence as I did in the initial months of lock down.  I've been able to begin prepping the garden for planting, but our sailboat launch was cancelled and remains TBA.  I played tennis twice but now we are into the third (fourth?) wave and we have also been locked out of our tennis courts.  In any case, today we woke up to a thick late spring snow fall.
    Later each day I review some family history (old letters), spend a few minutes learning basic Portuguese, and take mid-afternoon and after-supper naps.  I find youtubes that are interesting to watch or to play along to with my instruments, and I advertise and sell things from my basement to reduce the household clutter: guitar cases, instruments, lawn mowers, bicycles, etc.
    Then I sleep for six hours and get up to begin the same day all over again - just like the movie Groundhog Day.

Thursday, March 25th.  Today Deborah was able to make an appointment for her vaccine.  She completed pre-screening forms for both of us and I drove her to the immunization site.  She asked everyone at each step of her way in whether I could get mine as well, but I was not in the allowed age cohort and they all said no.  Then she reached the doctor who would administer the jab, and it turned out to be someone from our own local clinic.  The doctor told her that they weren't in the business of turning people away, and that anyone over fifty with a co-morbidity would certainly be allowed to come in for a shot.  As soon as Deb got home, she discovered that the registration page had also been updated in our absence and now co-morbidity had been included; and also faith leaders who come into close contact with grieving family members and others.
    The days have been somewhat uniform over the past six weeks.  Weekly family zoom calls on Saturdays, and zoom calls with Camila and Gabriel in Sao Paulo on Mondays.  Trumpet training and chats with Andrew Chung every couple of weeks.  Spanish every morning, a bit of Portuguese daily, some daily reading (Obama's book Dreams From My Father right now), and readings of my own family history from Dad's letter archive. 
    We won a St. Patrick's Day quiz at a zoom social, online with our HYC club.   
    I got back into advertising my extra instruments and selling them off, played my instruments in rotation every day, and recorded a few tunes including La Cumparsita and Vida Mia for Valentines Day.  I learned to make things easier for myself when playing fiddle tunes on guitar by using my capo on the second fret for most tunes in D and A, but that presented me with a new challenge: learning new fingerings.  That has checked my speed back considerably.
    Two weeks ago we drove across the city and came home with my first tenor guitar, only three years old and in lovely shape, for half of retail (they seem quite overpriced by Gold Tone, but not many people make them - or play them).  It took me several days of research and two packs of strings, one for tenor guitar purchased in error which turned out to be for the higher CGDA tuning, to get it strung in the GDAE tuning that I wanted, to match my "Irish" tenor banjo.  I had to mix and match to get the gauges I needed; they make GDAE string sets for tenor banjo but not the bronze wound string set for tenor guitar, I've discovered.  But although initially disappointed with how it sounded, with the correct strings and gauges it has now become my go-to instrument, very resonant and rich.   At first I only used it melodically, but now I'm trying to learn all my new chord shapes because they sound fine.  Guitar chords are often muddy because there are six notes relatively close together; this has only four, and the intervals are larger than on the guitar.  It means that I've had to learn four current sets of chord shapes for the different instruments; I also learned uke shapes some time ago but have largely forgotten them now..
    We had to shovel snow once or twice, but it is all gone now and temperatures remain mostly above zero even overnight, so we've been taking daily walks when it feels sunny and cheerful enough.  I tried to start pepper seeds that Deb saved from last year, but they haven't emerged from seed after almost three weeks.  I'll be patient...and I'll start tomatoes soon.  I have been able to begin working in the garden, moving pots around, visualizing and planning - but I expect to be prepping the trailer and truck for a summer on the road, more than spending time in my garden.
 

Wednesday, February 10th.  The cases of covid19 are dropping and jurisdictions across the country are tentatively reopening, although there are dangerous mutations and variants on the loose and vaccine roll-out has been glacial.  We will have to remain isolated and extremely cautious for a few more months, perhaps even another year; but I'm still optimistic that we'll get to take our T@B trailer across the country this summer.  Deborah has continued to amass enormous quantities of donated wool from Facebook connections with neighbours, for Sylvia to turn into toques and headbands for homeless people in Montreal.  I continue studying Spanish and a little Portuguese each day, and practice my nine instruments - when we are free to leave our house I'll hunt down opportunities to play the new ones with other people. I advertised and sold a few guitars and my guitalele, and a few other things like my collapsible fishing rod kit. 
    Over Christmas and the New Year, we recorded a series of short amateurish music videos dedicated to friends and family, and posted them to a youtube channel, from which everyone can enjoy them. I can use these videos later to demonstrate my musical gifts to people who might consider playing with me.  
    February has been brutally cold all across the country.  It has been around minus ten here and has reached the minus thirties and below in Alberta; I plan to record Frost is All Over on Irish tenor banjo today.  The cold has put pause to our daily walks.  Deborah chose haggis for her birthday meal, and it lasted for four meals, so we'll be doing it again for Valentine's Day.  We like haggis very much.  Deborah has experimented with other culinary revelations: Chakalaka (a S. African spicy vegetable relish) and Bombay Rolls, for example.  She found a design for better aerosol masks and made five of them, more shaped to our faces, so that air doesn't enter or leave around the edges, and with a fold that reduces fogging on our glasses on cold days,   I've forced myself to spend time each day reading books instead of just my internet screen, to try to make inroads on the huge collection of books I've accumulated over the years, including those I dragged home from Dad's bookshelves.  We continue our weekly zoom calls with family and with Camila and Gabriel in Sao Paulo.  I usually nap twice a day now, which might be a sign of age but could also be a symptom of the emotional toll of isolation. 

Friday, January 1st.  Pandemic lock down continued to notch up after Canadian Thanksgiving, with rise in Covid cases to the point where by Christmas, hospital staff were quite worried that they'd suffer a collapse in the system after the Christmas surge which they know is coming.  Too many people ignore the restrictions, including several prominent provincial politicians who think that they're better than all the people that they insist should stay home, and take vacations to Caribbean islands and elsewhere...and then get fired upon their return.  People interviewed at airports (and the aforementioned politicians) insist that they are going to a safe vacation where they'll be physically distanced from people, but willfully ignore the reality of their plane ride with recycled aerosols and no real physical distancing.  They are gas lighting themselves, and are a danger to our society.  Our friends Lloyd and Esther fooled themselves into believing that they'd be safe to return to the U.S. to visit family, with masks and lots of hand washing, but they both got sick, and Lloyd died. 
     The Pfizer and Moderna vaccines have finally arrived, but the roll-out was slower than we'd hoped, in our country and several others.  Latest speculation is that Deb and I might get ours by July, which would allow us to take our trailer to western Canada to visit family that we've only been able to meet on weekly Zoom calls.  Mind you, we've had more regular contact over Zoom than we had before the pandemic arrived.
    Deborah has almost recovered from a slip on the stairs leading to our basement..  She was carrying two chairs and moving too quickly, and her feet went out from under her.  She bumped on her bum down four stairs, and had a massive contusion that lasted for weeks.  It is only now disappearing.  My own health is ok except that a six month routine blood test suddenly alarmed us with high glucose levels.  They'd crept up over two years and had begun to spike over the past six months in spite of careful diet, sixteen hour daily fasts (for three years now), only two meals a day, no wine or juices - only black coffee and water.  I'm trying to tame the glucose now with more resolute daily walking and maximum allowable metformin, but I suspect that next week the doctor will shift me to a medication that isn't considered as safe as metformin but that stimulates cells in the pancreas to pump out insulin.  I can't say if it was lifestyle or just age, but it seems that my pancreas may be weakening, which has me slightly concerned about my travel plans for coming winters.  Still, I've seen a great deal of the world already and it does seem inevitable that at some point I will have to age gracefully into tamer destinations such as Florida and the southern U.S. 
    We've had a couple of snowfalls but nothing too exciting, and temperatures remain above normal heading into January.  The nightly lows are forecast at the 30 year average highs for the next fortnight.
    Deborah stopped her weekly volunteer role at the food bank a few weeks ago.  There's a new covid variant that is much more transmissible, and we both decided it isn't worth the risk, at our ages.  Except when she shops, we stay home all the time.  Deborah built several mousetraps but didn't catch a mouse with them; only the old fashioned Victory traps eliminated our fall mouse problem.  Now we have a problem with rats tunneling through the front garden, attracted by the food that birds throw down from the bird feeder.  We've enjoyed the bird feeder, but now we're trying to figure out how to eliminate the rats.  Deborah got a larger size Victory trap, but rats are too smart for that; she killed a squirrel instead.  We've enclosed two traps in a box that only a rat should be able to get into, but so far haven't caught one.  We're going to try rolling moth balls or dry ice down their burrows; and Deborah made some balls of food that is supposedly indigestible by rats and causes death, but I haven't seen any evidence that it works.  The bird feeder has come down; we have suet cakes up for the chickadees (and the athletic problem-solving squirrels), but nothing for sparrows or other birds until we solve the rat problem.  At least they stay outside.
    For the second time, we did a couple of videos of songs for Hector Catre's online fundraiser for the Scarborough Food Security Initiative, along with other local artists - essentially, online virtual busking for charity.  He raised about $2500 this time.  He didn't plan it out very well, though - had a number of technical glitches and a late start, and had only asked for two songs from us, but contributed a half dozen himself, so it turned into "the Hector Show", with his out-of-tune singing solo performances. 
    At Christmas, Deb and I recorded a series of "musical gifts" for family members, about one per day through Christmas week.  We'll do another six or so before we're done, and then I don't know what we'll do.  I'll keep practicing my instruments, of course, and my Spanish and Portuguese.  I used my fiddle and Irish tenor banjo for most of the half dozen tunes we did - Saddle the Pony for Heather and Ed, Out on the Ocean for Peter and Christina, Ook Pik Waltz for Miranda and family, Country Waltz for Mom, Maid Behind the Bar for Emily, Billy in the Lowground for Dylan (we renamed it Dylan in the Lowground).  We did Auld Lang Syne on trumpet and uke with vocals yesterday.
    We finished our last tomatoes about two weeks ago (the indoor window-ripening ones) but we are still eating Bishop's Crown peppers as they turn red, from two plants that we brought indoors just before the first frost.  We have five that are still growing in the dining room window.  And our green onions continue to grow - I get them with my breakfast every other day.

     Note: This is my digital diary.  With props to my journalist niece for framing the concept, this is me being my own journalist.  Too many people live largely uncelebrated and die largely unremembered; everyone else is too consumed with their own lives to make a big deal of yours, so if you want to celebrate and you want to be remembered by current friends and maybe also by distant descendants, you have to record your own life.  I have ancestors about which we are very curious but who left very little behind to help us know them.  I have a few friends who blog about their lives and travel, and that helps to keep them in my thoughts and up to date on their lives, so I know that it is a positive and useful pursuit.