…hit cyberspace six years ago as a tiny, experimental advance in ministry. There was this new "world wide web," very new to me. The language was foreign, the technology was daunting. I was a stranger in a strange land.
The first forays were tentative to an embarrassing degree. I was writing thought or content articles like one would find in a specialized journal. Needless to say, readership did not sky rocket.
I am not much better with the technology, though I am considered an advanced user because I have a typespot with typelists and get up to it fairly often. I can send and receive emails. I can even "chat" with people around the world and enjoy doing so.
It took five years for aintsobad to get its first 100,000 hits. Long weeks went by sometimes without an entry. In just less than a year, this typespot has exceeded 220,000 hits and continues to climb, though my writer’s fatigue is now starting to show pretty badly. A writer always needs his muse. Caliope, Erato and their sisters have flown. Who knows if they will return?
Meanwhile, I prepare for a new era in my life, the (quite possibly) final productive decade of my earthly sojourn. I think of Old Ben Franklin who wrote about how much his thoughts, in what he held to be middle age, had turned to his own comforts. I fight that each day, disciplining soul, mind and body with work, study and workouts. I have few fears left and retain some hopes. Criticism that might have wilted me in the past proves less devastating now.
I have met my share of fakes and flakes. I care not to be numbered among them. Like the television huckster who urges his hearers to send money to God but then gives out his own address, the church seems fraught with the peril of greed. I cannot offer much insight on how to avoid the natural human lust for power even if the object of power is itself quite pitiful.
There are things left to do. I intend to find a place of usefulness.