I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date…

Well, if you read my first entry you know that I am very late for a very important date and here is why:

One upon a time not so long ago I made a blog page, all tone on tone, all new – all empty. The posts lived in my head, coming effortlessly at the most impractical moments: as I rushed to go to work; whenever a tiny lull came up for air in my American-style, ever-so-busy days, but not long enough for a deep breadth;  just before going to sleep, when heavy eyelids made sure not a word would be written.

And then again, there was no “real reason” to blog, was there?  And there wouldn’t be time, anyway.  And wouldn’t it be – horror of horrors – rather narcissistic?

So, you see, the blog may never have been born if it hadn’t been for two midwives and a final push.

Midwife number 1 came last week in the shape of my  elderly father, who lives on the other side of a large mass of water called the Atlantic (which is a real problem, but that’s another story). Talking via Skype, as we now do almost every day, he spoke of his hesitation to go on a trip somewhere he had never been (Jordan, I think). Daughter-turning-mother that I am – much against his wishes – I began to utter words of reassurance to the effect that, indeed, it may be a wise decision  not to go; he had seen so much of the world already, I added. After a brief silence he said, with some gravitas, “Well, I am always ready to have a new experience. If one is no longer interested in what is new, one has already died. I have no intention of dying while I’m still living.” This thought immediately sent me to my “to blog or not to blog” question – which, as should be obvious by now, was looming rather large in my head. The blog, yes, right, it is a new thing; and yes, I have never done it before; and that is precisely the point, according to my father.

Midwife number 2 came in the course of the same day. During one of my busy drives between busy tasks (even the sound of the word evokes the never-ending movement of insects flapping their wings: bzzz, bzzz), I heard on NPR  that when someone blogs, they put “out there” (fascinating place!) a very particular way of seeing, experiencing, thinking about things. Whatever the quality of the writing, they said – the poorest, the most brilliant and anything in between – a particular stance is being offered, almost like a fingerprint. This didn’t quite kill the “is blogging simply a narcissistic trend in a narcissistic society?” question, which still lingers, but the idea of the singularity of points of view interested the historian in me. The blog began to look probable.

And then, there was the final push. Speaking of Faith’s SOF is putting up a piece I wrote in response to their program on brutal regimes and the victims’ families, the children in particular. I was asked if I had a blog, and I said “yes, but no posts.” “So, this would be a great moment to have your inaugural post,” Trent said.

And the fate was sealed. Who wants to disappoint readers who may stumble upon my blog address? I don’t. So here I am – and here is the blog. But you will have to wait a little longer to find out more about the content. My time for today is up!

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