When information is gone, it's gone, Hawking nonwithstanding. I
understand not wanting to give total control over; trust is a
difficult thing. Sounds like I'm auditioning, but I'm not. It
has to do with information and loss.
When I was 18 in 1990, I started a "children's right list" on
the Internet. No WWW, but the 'net had most of what we have
today. Blossomed up to 5000 members; I ran it for about 5 years,
long after I came back home and was back on crappy dialup.
One day, I realized, "Ok, I don't have the enthusiasm or time
that I had" (and at 23, while I was still interested in the
issues in general, I no longer wanted control).
So, I passed ownership to a Sociology professor in Auckland and
a 13 year old Alaskan girl genius named Alex as dual owners. I
left and they kept it running apparently until 1998. No archives
seem to be around though; it's before Google was sucking all
data everywhere up into its gut like a giant Kirby. [vacuum +
pink adorable character alike]
But one thing that amazes me; is how important those past
experiences become at times and the records I have of them, are
worthy. Not that I'm nostalgic, but having the records I have is
a reminder than we're not isolated beings floating in bubbles,
but connected, quite tangibly, through information, of whatever
form it comes.
