Permanently Impermanent on the Net NationSaturday, February 22, 2020
|Rebecca wearing her grandfather's glasses in 2002|
Back in that other century it seemed to me that change was slow and almost not noticeable. But then you reach my 77 years and suddenly I no longer avoid looking at the Vancouver Sun obituaries.
In that past century if I wanted advise on roses I went to Janet Wood who was the rose lady. There were equivalent experts for ferns, clematis, dwarf conifers, etc. Now for advice all I can do is look at myself in the mirror and then Google.
I bought my first medium format camera, a Mamiya RB-67 in 1977 and it was only about 15 years ago when they stopped making them in versions that were almost digital. Now any digital camera, as your iPhone is rendered old-hat within a couple of years.
There were some who said that the internet was permanent. Anything you put into it was there in perpetuity. I have found that this is not true.
My web page and blog are domain name and web hosted by a company called Net Nation. At one time they were here in Vancouver by the Bentall Centre. They have long been purchased by a US company.
Somehow this company has never been able to catch on the efficient idea of billing me for both services at the same time. Twice in a near past year I suffered the indignity of not remembering that my credit card had a new expiry date. My web page was yanked as somehow I did not heed the Net Nation warning. In the case of the web page it took about a whole week for bits of it to slowly come to a zero/one reality. I have learned my lesson. But every time I am asked by the company how I would like to have them improve their service they ignore my suggestion of billing me one a year.
A friend in Portland, Curtis Daily, the baroque string bassist, informed me a month ago that the lead photo of my granddaughter Rebecca on my web page was gone and replaced by code gobbledegook. My friend artist, but former designer, Ian Bateson has told me that my 2004-designed web page by the local Skunkworks has coding that has expired its relevancy.
The folks at Skunkworks are busy trying to remedy the situation. I was asked to provide them with the password for my web page. Are you kidding? Would I remember a password from 2004. All this has been solved and soon, I hope, Rebecca will be back where she belongs at the start of my web page.
But all this shows you just how impermanent anything related to the web and things digital.
If Dante were alive he would assign the darkest hole in hell to those who invented pin numbers and passwords. They would share their ultra-hot darkness with Steve Jobs who ruined this century with his iPhone.