Short post today. I haven’t considered my early days on Blogger and WordPress until now. They were outlets for all kinds of writing.
Been working on a chapter about the early years of social media and blogging. This paragraph needs work yet it captures one way I used the platforms in those early blogging days.
When I began blogging in 2007, I had no idea where it would go. I wrote more than 5,600 posts since the beginning. For a long time, it was the only writing I did each day. It became a writer’s workbench to test ideas and how to express them. Some days the posts were cringe worthy. Some days I touched the sky. Part of me would like to return to handwriting paper journals the way I did before 2007. Part of me does not.
I also re-wrote the first paragraph of the chapter. Next I will re-do the rest.
I also mention social media in it. I was active on half a dozen platforms and joined Facebook in March 2008, after which made this brief post:
Tonight I joined Facebook. Yikes! Facebook connects us to people we have not thought of in years. In some cases we haven’t made contact in over a quarter of a century. All within a couple of hours. From moment to moment, the number of “friends” builds. What to say on the site? What elements to show? What pictures to place? How much time to spend? When a friend accepts the invitation, it feels good. The wave has broken, now I’ll ride it in.
If there was excitement at first, when our child stopped posting there I lost interest. It took a while yet in 2025 I deactivated my account. My problem was the contrast between lots of activity and the loneliness I felt as a result of being increasingly away from the real world. There is a kind of relationship on social media, I determined it was not a good one.
The purpose of the chapter is to figure out the meaning of all this. Maybe I will.
Winter is escaping, and with it the best time of year to write. It has become a household meme that “I am losing more darkness every day!” There is so much to get done on the book project. Monday the ground was frozen, yet soon it won’t be. Putting the garden in is also a major undertaking.
That said, posting here will slow down as I focus on completing the current editing pass on my book. If all goes well, it will take a few weeks. A photo one day, maybe a video of a favorite song, a few kind words. All place holders until the book is where I need it to be come spring.
Writing space at Five Points in Davenport, Iowa, 1980.
Ambient temperature was to climb to 60 degrees Fahrenheit on Sunday. It made it to 61. Spring is in the air, even if that thought is not rational given the calendar. I sat down and outlined the path to finalizing my book.
I finished the initial draft on Jan. 5, and am 37 chapters into the first pass of revisions. What are reasonable next steps toward publication? I laid them out.
It will take two to four weeks to finish this pass of the remaining 12 chapters. After our child leaves Iowa after college in the story, the chapters have a different focus. I wrote them quickly, now I must revise them slowly. Given three to four hours of early morning darkness, that should be doable. With each passing day, I lose darkness, yet I will persevere.
After this pass, I plan a structural review. The purpose here is to ensure the book has continuity, that it is going somewhere with intent. I laid out a sheet of 8×11 paper with a chapter title on each, and arranged them in the current order. On each sheet I will define where the chapter starts, where it ends, and then summarize in a sentence or two what story movement is included. I already see some order-switching at hand.
Once structural concerns are addressed, it’s time for a reality check. Is the book saying what I want? Is it meaningful? Once those questions are adequately addressed, it is time for a second pass with re-writing, if needed.
This pass leads to proofreading and getting the book formatted for a local printing in either spiral or comb binding. I will pick the printer and make a dozen or so copies for early readers.
If everything comes together, by Memorial Day, manuscripts have been distributed to a small group of trusted readers whose screening process answered the questions: Did they read the first book when delivered? Did they provide meaningful comments? I have a couple of new readers in mind, with whom I’ve had conversations about my book, yet haven’t read it yet. While I will be in a hurry at this point, the book then becomes potential summer reading for this group.
The next goal is to collect feedback as it comes, in whatever format it is. No later than Labor Day I enter a decision table: Do I print privately as in the first book, or take steps to use a printing service to make the book into various formats: eBook, paper book, and audio book and distribute more broadly? The answer to this question is not made and I would be happy with either outcome.
The three to four hours of writing each day leaves plenty of time for a life. In my eighth decade, every bit of life is important.
Here is the draft preface from my autobiography in progress, with working title, A Working Life: A Memoir. It is a record of lived participation in work, place, institutions, and time. The book will be as good as I can make it, and with diligence, finished this year.
PREFACE
My story resumes after returning from visiting friends in the American South to Iowa City where I would work as a writer. I just finished my master’s degree and had enough resources to get started.
The first book, An Iowa Life: A Memoir, reflects an extended childhood and education. Next, I began writing.
I take you with me as our family moved to Cedar Rapids, then to Indiana and finally back to our present home. When our child left home, and then left Iowa, the story breaks loose into individual essays about ways I lived, worked, and engaged in society.
When I began work at CRST, Inc. I had no career plan. What I learned though my work in transportation and logistics was the country was changing. Industries repeatedly restructured and I spent years listening to thousands of people explain what had just been taken from them. The experience changed me.
To indicate passages drawn from journals, notes, and my public writing, I use italics.
I have limited names and altered identifying details for those who are not public figures.
Despite issues with out current political and social environment, I must press toward completion of my book. Mine has been a life of delayed gratification, and in my eighth decade, I am running out of time to finish this work.
As I write, the administration announced repeal of the Endangerment Finding. Commentators are commenting about it, and I don’t have anything unique to say. Why wouldn’t we want to reduce and control pollutants entering the atmosphere? No one asked me.
This second book is going to be better written than the first. Maybe I am learning how to shut the world out and focus on craft. That is necessary not only in creative work, but in many aspects of our lives. While my writing space encompasses the entire world, at this stage of the work, close focus is critical. I can only consider one idea at a time, one sentence at a time, the way an air traffic controller lands airplanes. Hopefully the book will make a safe landing.
It was Bill Gates while at Microsoft who said when he had a major project, he stored relevant stuff away and didn’t look at it. Then, when it was time, he focused all attention on that task and saw it through to completion. The benefit of the approach was loose ends tended to get sorted out in the waiting period. While busy for a short duration, the process made less work in the end. This was my approach to preparing for my role as a site manager in the 2026 Democratic Precinct Caucuses. The caucus was last night and I began preparation the day before. It was plenty of time.
I’m no Bill Gates and in some ways, that’s a good thing. This technique can work well when properly applied. Especially in politics, it is difficult to distinguish the signal from the noise, and time and calmness can help clarify that.
We had a good group of caucus volunteers. It made things go smoothly.
This January I’m thankful to have gotten back into the writing groove so quickly. I finished the first draft of my book and am a third finished with the first major edit. The narrative and language keeps getting stronger. If I did nothing else, that would be an accomplishment.
I managed to get outdoors for my 30-minute walk every day but one. In past years I struggled to get exercise during winter but I remedied that. Among other things I remedied was sleepless nights. After using artificial intelligence to generate some ideas, I developed my own process to fall asleep and stay asleep until it is time to get up. I’ve now been getting seven to eight hours of sleep each night.
Reading seven books this month was in line with my plans. February should be another good month, especially if it stays cold.
Friday I attended a visitation for a friend’s spouse. The older I get, the more I feel a sense of loss regardless of how long or how well I knew the deceased. Luckily several other people I knew were there and we were able to talk about more than a few common things. We could go on living.
The current schedule is to start the first garden seeds indoors on Feb. 7. The year is rushing toward us with unrelenting fury. A lot remains to be done before spring’s promise arrives.
Artificial Intelligence is everywhere I am on the internet and January has been a month of learning to use it. This post includes my experiences with some of the artificial intelligence tools, including Rufus on Amazon, AI Overview in Google Search, and ChatGPT. The brief comment I would make about any of these tools is we must change how we interact to be effective. This isn’t your parents’ Google search any more. Without doubt, AI made my life better. We must ask better questions.
WordPress uses artificial intelligence on its help screen. The paradigm is simple. Define your role and frame what you want. For example, “I am a site admin and don’t have a lot of programming experience but I’d like to set up a new site and transfer my domain to it.” WordPress AI frames its response in terms of the request, often using the same language. This is ultra simple and important to every AI platform. That is a key learning point.
My main learning this month has been to ask any artificial intelligence tool better questions. Google and other search engines have trained us how to use them for decades. The old ways of entering a few related nouns or a simple phrase do not serve us as well going forward. Because AI has been trained on an enormous portion of human-written text, part of our queries must include minimal framing of questions. For example, I wanted to use a photograph as the basis for ChatGPT to render it in the style of Claude Monet impressionism with oil paints. It did a reasonable job of doing so. This kind of role-defining for our AI interface seems subtle at first, but more so it seems fundamental to the new approach needed to maximize our value.
Amazon sells stuff and uses an AI platform named Rufus. Even here query framing matters. The same type of role playing is important, yet roles are likely similar for everyone — we mainly visit Amazon to buy stuff. I asked Rufus, “Based on last year’s purchases, what are my buying patterns?” It listed Brand Loyalty, Shopping Style, and Household Profile. It identified me as someone who uses the account to shop for myself, incorrectly identifying me as a single-person household, which surprised me, since my spouse and I have linked accounts. Rufus also identified me as “price conscious but quality-focused” because I bought some Made In cookware. It also noted I am an active cook, based on buying Mexican oregano, canning jars and rings, and the aforementioned cookware. I likely used Rufus the least of the AI platforms mentioned.
With the broad database inherent in large language models like ChatGPT and Google’s AI Overview, our queries must include a way of paring potential answers down. To make our intent clear, state our goals for the tool, and most importantly set constraints. One of my favorite constraints is to write “I have 30 minutes to work on this so give me the top 3 findings,” or something similar. If I know something about what I am querying, I mention that as well. AI can provide its reasoning, and there’s no harm in asking for it.
I am still learning, yet with the long discussions I have with ChatGPT, the tool remembers what was previously said within a single chat. This is something I tend to forget when my follow up query is a week or two after the initial one. One evident thing is I need a better skill set when it comes to querying AI tools. Eventually, better AI queries will become part of a standard tool box for using artificial intelligence.
Photograph on Jan. 26, 2026.AI rendering of photograph.
The truth or reality behind these two images is unknowable. I believe in a Cartesian view of humanity in which the phrase “I think, therefore, I am” indicates the isolate self, reaching to others that potentially exist, through the veil of Maya. The minute I captured the photograph on my mobile device, it left the plane of reality. The artificial intelligence rendering of it in a Monet-style impressionism is merely a variation of the original. The underlying reality of that sunrise is no longer knowable. Even I have only memories that have decayed for eight hours as I type this.
These images reflect an actuality I remember, yet not reality. Shakespeare famously had Hamlet say, “to hold as ‘twere the mirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.” Perhaps Shakespeare assumed the mirror was a neutral conduit for reality. For purposes of an Elizabethan play making that assumption may have been necessary and fodder for audiences who knew otherwise to react.
Images such as these have a use in social media and blog posts. Those who followed my blog the last few months often saw sunrise photographs at the header. I post them on BlueSky, as well. They represent a shorthand of my experience on that date at a specific time. They are largely throw-away images even if some of them are quite fetching. The point I am making with this photograph and its rendering is a new day is dawning in which we can be better humans with new chances. That, too, is an interpretation, something worth hoping for.
I’m a bit infatuated with the image rendering capabilities of artificial intelligence. Of the five photographs I tried, only two were keepers, and then only for long enough to post them on one of the platforms I use. While that moment in which I captured the rising sun is no longer knowable, it was as real as anything can be. My Cartesian model notwithstanding.
It wasn’t a whim from the great beyond that led me back to William Carlos Williams, but the practical matter of finding shelf space in my writing room. Williams has been important most of my adult life, beginning at university. In the mid-1980s, when I lived in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, a home to Grant Wood, I wrote:
Also on my mind was the idea of the professional who wrote or was creative as a sideline. Grant Wood was one, teaching at the University of Iowa to support his painting. I thought of William Carlos Williams and Wallace Stevens who worked as a physician and insurance executive respectively. I thought about David Morrell, whose class in American fiction I took while he was writing the books First Blood, Last Reveille, and Testament.
At that point in my development as a writer, while working for a large transportation and logistics company, I was determined to be the transportation equivalent of William Carlos Williams. I proposed to find life in what surrounded me and reduce it to words and images. I stole moments away from family and work for creative endeavor that was and remains important to me.
It is time to re-read William Carlos Williams.
The practice of medicine made Williams’s poetry possible—not as patronage, as I once thought, but through its effect on how he saw things and worked. Being a physician enabled a perspective that shaped his native impulses to write about what he saw, and what language he used. It enabled his resistance to the literary professionalism of his time, rendering him outside mainstream literary culture of the 1920s and ’30s.
What I like most about Williams is his attention to a certain kind of reality, the same reality that underlies much of my own writing. Williams clearly influenced me, although I never felt the security of a profession that he manifested in his writing.
Returning to Williams in my eighth decade is partly to better my understanding of him, and partly to revisit some of the decisions I made about the role of reality in my writing. I decided to start with these four works: Spring and All, Selected Poems, The Autobiography of William Carlos Williams, and In the American Grain. I read them all previously and hope for new insight. Let’s see where this goes… does my early read of Williams hold… or does it not?
Following is an excerpt from my autobiography in progress. This passage was written to transition from our first year of marriage into what would come next. I reprised the self I exhibited at university to come up with this at the time.
I embarked on contemplation like during my undergraduate years when I would wander the campus considering Cartesian philosophy, unaware of the real world in which I walked. From this came my ideas about consumerism, professionalism, and the courage to live a moral life.
Consumerism was part of the American condition in the 1980s. It still is. I felt we ceased concerning ourselves with production of goods and values to spend more time consuming and planning for consumption. When we took paying work to earn money, we wrote off that invested time as a necessary precursor to the consumptive act. We sacrificed for work, and in the process, alienated ourselves from the main trajectory of our hope and dreams. This was unfortunate for my writing. I concluded, there is a wealth of experience around us. The time we spend doing something is worthwhile. The knowledge we gain from our experience comes at a high price…for we give our unique life for it. We should cherish our memories, and use the gift of life wisely, for there is only one for us. Being a consumer was not what I had in mind.
This is important because delayed gratification was necessary for a career. Paraphrasing Thoreau, by seeming necessity we were employed. Looking back, in 1983 we made a decision, and that led us to a different question: “What’s in it for me?” In part, this is necessary for a family to get started. In the end, I came to reject this question in favor of others. I felt we could have gone on working for the University of Iowa and built a life based on that. We were called to do more than just live a life in Iowa City.
The interweaving of the job and the experience of the job was also important. It suggests a perspective on work we can own. By accepting and nurturing this reality, I set a wedge between our family and my job. To some extent, this wedge later kept me from full acceptance in the social network of transportation’s elite. To the same extent, I was the better for it. It was a subtle, but important aspect of our decision-making.
Many themes from my journal carried through until today. I wrote about the “professionalism of modern life,” drawing a distinction between a person’s moral life and the profession they chose. I explored this in the following passage. I used the word “woman” yet have always considered the ideas relevant to everyone. Perhaps I was influenced by the first female supervisors I had had since beginning paid work in high school.
In Going Home I hope to address some of the aspects of the women’s movement that seem pertinent to Davenport. The specific issue I feel most competent to address is the way women I know have used professionalism as a vehicle for personal liberation. They have taken jobs as librarians, bankers, real estate agents, doctors, and dentists as a form of self-maturation, a way of establishing themselves in the world. This professionalization of modern life is one of the most pernicious forces I see present in the world. Not because women are the ones who are becoming professionals, but because the life of a professional is taking the place that was left by the exit of religion. The modern person looks at life as a moment in the sun, a time in which we fill the days with activities.
Creating a profession can fill a life with activities that remove us from our hopes and dreams. I called it pernicious because of how a professional lives within a society of friends. There are networks of people and within the context of the network, their lives are defined. To a degree we all do this, but it is no substitute for living a moral life. More than many another life, it can be dictated by things that lie outside the individual. The professional can commiserate with his peers, saying, “oh, I have been through that experience,” and that might be the end of it. The professional has a way of looking at the world provided, and the tendency is to look no further for a perspective. Like so many other things in modern life, this is self-alienation: a degradation of personal experience.
I viewed professionalism with the behaviors and artifacts around it as having the potential to be a hollow shell. The danger was that if a person had no moral compass guiding them along life’s path, the results personally and for society would be detrimental. At the same time, professionalism was another way of subduing our native culture.
We accept certain behavior in the context of working as a professional that we may not accept at home. Professionalism enabled people to concern themselves with “my career” instead of with the greater society. In retrospect, I did not see the society this represents coming. Given the veneer of professionalism, something would fill the empty middle.
During the time I was preparing to write Going Home, I spent considerable time researching the idea of living a moral life. As humans, we must have one. While I did not write that book, its research helped establish who I would be as we entered the second year of our marriage.
Journey Home 
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