Things Lost

The 'Net has taken something from us.

Some years ago - I'd guess ten or fifteen - I was at the office when the name "Klement Gottwald" popped into my mind. The name seemed familiar; I knew that I ought to be able to place it, but, apart from a feeling that it fit into postwar Eastern Europe, nothing came. After continuing to cudgel my brain for a bit, I went off to talk to A, one of my colleagues. A was a Hungarian, who had fled the country during the 1956 upheavals; perhaps he would know. Alas, though he too recognized the name, he couldn't place it either. (By this time we were both conjecturing that Gottwald was an East German.) Finally, one of us suggested consulting another colleague, K. K and his wife were Poles, who had emigrated to the US in the late seventies, or perhaps the eighties. We found the two of them in his office, and K's wife was able to identify Gottwald; in her youth, she had gone to a school named for him. The four of us chatted for a while, about Gottwald, Polish schools, and other tangential topics.

Today, in a comparable situation, my first instinct would be to go online, fire up a search engine, and go to Wikipedia or some other resource. I'd have my answer - but I wouldn't have those conversations, follow the tangential chains, or, really, get any human contact out of it.

It's not that I can't do these things any more; it's just less likely, less convenient, less the obvious thing to do. Something is lost, there. Does that negate all the positive consequences of 'Net-based resources? Of course not; but that doesn't mean the loss isn't real.

Oh, by the way: Klement Gottwald.

Newcomers

I just got back from the animal shelter.

I should rephrase: we just got back from the shelter. The household now numbers three, again.

The name question turned out to be moot; both dogs are adult, and I'll be keeping their old names.

Gracie is a one-year-old Yorkie, very sweet-tempered and a definite lapdog. I may have to do something about the outer doggie door for her to be able to use it, but she took to the doggie steps without hesitation. Her previous people found themselves with too many dogs, and had to give her up.

Buster is three years old, a Lhasa Apso mix. He's a bit more rambunctious; his previous people report that he's a bolter, so I'll have to keep an eye on him when I go in and out. His people had to move to an apartment and couldn't keep him.

They spent a little while exploring the house and the yard and playing with each other. (I may have to keep an eye on that; Buster may be a little too physical for Gracie.) Right now, they're just lying near me and panting. (Gracie's right by my chair, Buster a little further away; I suspect that will be a pattern.)

I've uploaded some pictures to my Flickr photostream; more will undoubtedly follow.

(Let's see: I've got to go to the grocery store for dog food, call Hawthorne to make appointments for their first checkups, and take them for their first walk around the neighborhood. Busy busy busy....)