Telling stories over again (circumlunar.space), 12/04/2019 ------------------------------------------------------------ I've got a few stories to share. Lately, I've been feeling like I've already told everyone everything there is to know about me. Every time I want to tell a story, I get this sinking feeling that I'm being terribly repetitive. Most of the time, I just skip the stories. Yet here I am, telling stories, in spite of that feeling. The first one might justify my actions: From 2013 to 2018, I made friends with a man roughly twice my age... that puts him near 80 folks, in case you don't know my birth date. This is not at all uncommon for me, I really enjoy people with more life experience, and have for a long time (Mini-meta-story: every Sunday when I was a teen, my mother would take me with her to visit a friend's mother in a nursing home. We'd visit, and she'd have me amuse the other people in the group home. I learned that older people are full of life in their spirits, even when their bodies can barely hold on). To make things even better, this fellow was a historian. No, honestly, he was a historian. He worked at the town museum. His family helped settle the town. His mother was still alive when I met him- she was 104- and he showed me the house where she was born. His father owned the first generator that brought power to the town (they only ran it at night). There was no one with more information about his part of the earth than him. This man had boatloads of stories. They were interesting! They were relevant too; they helped me get to know a new town, and feel more at home. They connected me in a way that I never could have connected without them. I know they aren't my stories, but I should start writing them down, they were that interesting to me. They were that good. Right away I noticed something about this man, something in the way people treated him. There was almost a knowing, eye- rolling reaction whenever he would start in on a story. They loved him, the people I'm talking about, but they'd known him a lot longer. They had heard all the stories before. Pretty soon, I had heard all the stories too (at least all the commonly told ones, sometimes he would surprise me). But that didn't stop him; when something happened, or something came to mind, he's start sharing, as if he had never shared that particular story before. I recall reading some study about the elderly re-sharing stories, I think; the takeaway that comes to mind is that there is *value* in the phenomenon. There is value in re- telling stories. For my part, I never got tired of hearing his stories. Partly in respect for his age and experience, I let him speak. But in reality, it was to my benefit. Those stories, and their meaning, took real form in my mind. They became part of me, they passed on through me (to what end, I don't know). My own stories might be mundane; they certainly feel a lot more mundane than his! Even so, I'm going to just keep telling them when I feel like it- and, I should probably stop saying anything about it. No one needs or wants my apology for sharing more than once. If they do, they can contact me directly at tfurrows@sdf.org. Perhaps if I do keep telling my own stories (and those of others), someone, somewhere will benefit from them in some small way. -------------------------------------------------------- With that preface/excuse, I'd like to reminisce about my early days as a Linux user. There's a bit of a conversation going on in gopherspace about "Unix Philosophy," and I've been having a short (so far) discussion with one user about it via email, so the topic is fresh in my mind. I graduated high school in 1996. If you know your OS history, you'll not be shocked to learn that the first computer I used in school was the Apple II in gradeschool, followed by a variety of x86 systems in high school (everything from IBM systems to generic, 8086 to 80286, 386, and onward at a rapid pace). Somehow, computers just weren't a thing between gradeschool and high school... I learned to type in school, though, on an IBM electric. I loved the slam of the high-speed ball thing on the paper. Most of my memorable computer user as a kid was in DOS. My dad had an Epson Equity II+, 8088, with MSDOS 3.3. We had Space Quest III on floppies, Manhunter, and some other stuff. I played games, and that was about it. Fast forward through several steps of introduction to computing, and I arrived at Slackware Linux sometime in the 90s. The first install was downloaded to a huge stack of floppies; getting X running on my packard bell laptop was a breakthrough for me. I recall buying a set of install CDs (version 3.1 or 3.3 I think). I stuck with Slackware for a few years, and learned to love Linux. Then I got older, and started to work. Never mind where, never mind what, but I was working with computers, and I loved Linux. In my mind, the world needed Linux badly, and I was going to help deliver it. Companies were willing. It was a good time. I bought Linux magazines, proselytized the benefits, and generally behaved like a religious zealot. I decried the evils of "Micro$oft," and generally made a fool of myself. Those were the days. Now, about the philosophies of Unix... you'll note that I did not come in at the Unix level, I started in on the Linux level. I didn't have the same start as someone a generation ahead of me. I was an OS radical without a real foundation, fighting for something that I didn't really understand. And so, I eventually stopped caring. Don't get me wrong, every computer in my house runs on Linux or a BSD variant (not counting retro systems and mobile). I still *love* the command line, I just don't *care* about the politics. When someone today talks about "Unix Philosophy," I get what they mean, and I agree with some of what they're selling. Simple is awesome to me, the command line is a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Doing one thing well is dandy. Modularity is handy. Users-as-programmers is neat too, even if they're low-grade programmers like myself. It just Feels Good(TM). But, I'm not going to join a cult over it. I'm not going to howl and scream and worry about what businesses do with their money. I'll contribute if I can. I'll join the fun, but I won't be an acolyte, I had my time with that. Of course, if others want to take up the banner, I don't wish to disparage them. I'm grateful for all those who carry on! Consider me one of your users, Unix Philosophers, the target audience. Thank you for all that you do, for all that you contribute. If it weren't for you, slackers like me couldn't have the special brand of fun that your hard work makes available. Seriously, I'm deeply indebted to you, in a way that I can never repay. Carry on, and fight the good fight!