When information is gone, it's gone, Hawking nonwithstanding. I
   understand not wanting to give total control over; trust is a
   difficult thing. Sounds like I'm auditioning, but I'm not. It
   has to do with information and loss.

   When I was 18 in 1990, I started a "children's right list" on
   the Internet. No WWW, but the 'net had most of what we have
   today. Blossomed up to 5000 members; I ran it for about 5 years,
   long after I came back home and was back on crappy dialup.

   One day, I realized, "Ok, I don't have the enthusiasm or time
   that I had" (and at 23, while I was still interested in the
   issues in general, I no longer wanted control).

   So, I passed ownership to a Sociology professor in Auckland and
   a 13 year old Alaskan girl genius named Alex as dual owners. I
   left and they kept it running apparently until 1998. No archives
   seem to be around though; it's before Google was sucking all
   data everywhere up into its gut like a giant Kirby. [vacuum +
   pink adorable character alike]

   But one thing that amazes me; is how important those past
   experiences become at times and the records I have of them, are
   worthy. Not that I'm nostalgic, but having the records I have is
   a reminder than we're not isolated beings floating in bubbles,
   but connected, quite tangibly, through information, of whatever
   form it comes.