Up Until Now

Fifteen years ago, I had an eight year old son. I had been married for more than ten years, and was up to my knees in a career in teaching. My dreams of being a writer had been dashed by the lack of an aspiring literary agent approaching me on the street begging me to come and be a part of his new billion dollar stable of short story authors. And maybe it had a little to do with the hardly noticeable amount of promotion I gave myself. I have always been happy to have someone look over my shoulder and say, "Hey. I didn't know you were a writer."
Well, yes. I am a writer.
I've been writing on this location for the past decade and a half. George W. Bush was halfway through the first year of starting up the second in a series of two terms in office, and  I was not happy about it. It was from behind this keyboard that I waged my defense of what I saw as a threat to democracy as we knew it.
But more on that in a bit. Heh. Heh. I said "moron."
Get it?
And it was also here that I began to spin tales of the often tumultuous world of elementary education. The struggles. The triumphs. The day to day joys and tragedies of an urban school. Looking back at those earliest entries, I can see the relative youth sprinkled over the top. I had so much to learn. I so much to teach. I still do. Teach, that is. And learn.
Pope Benedict had just been rung in as head of the Catholic church. The first YouTube video had been uploaded, entitled "Me at the zoo." The young man standing in front of the elephant enclosure became the co-founder of that Internet watering hole called YouTube and about a year later he was bought out by another Internet watering hole called Google and now he has a bunch of money. Not Google kind of money, but still.
For your own edification, Google also bought Blogger, upon which I tap out my daily musings. I have yet to be offered anything for my much smaller corner of that corner of Al Gore's Internet.
But it's not about the money. I'm doing this, have been doing this, will continue to do this because there seems to be a need for me to express myself. In this model of the universe, you are that audience that I was hoping would flock to my musings back when I tumbled out of college. For that I owe you a debt of gratitude whether this is the first time you clicked or if you've been paying attention to me straight along. I celebrate you for your patience and curiosity, and what amounts to your patronage. This is a signpost in the middle of a wilderness. I don't know where this path will lead most days, but I'm glad to have company on what can be a lonely journey.
I can feel you reading these words. They're not mine, after all. They're in pretty common usage. I just happen to arrange them in this particular order.
Tune in tomorrow as I begin my sixteenth year of arranging words and muddying the waters.