87. Enough About Me

It’s about time I’ve introduced you to yourselves.

In the statistics that my web service provides, I get a daily head count of the visitors to my blog posts plus a few other details, such as a map that shows where you’re from. But that’s all—nothing specific like names or contact info unless one wishes to leave that in a comment.  I just can’t help but be curious, who are you all?

It’s hard to comprehend, but with very little effort on my part, only through word of mouth and search engine magic, I have had a thin stream of visitors to my blog from nearly every state coast to coast and from many countries around the world. I can identify a few of you on the map that are obvious: Good to see you, Jones Island! Love you, Mesa! Welcome back, Eugene! And y’all do come again, Rainbow City! But the ones that have me scratching my head are from such a place as Cheyenne, Wyoming. Do I know someone in Cheyenne? The list is amazing.

Not amazing enough for you? How about my drop-ins and even some regulars from Antwerp, Calgary, Manila, Dublin, Cape Town, Riyadh, Brisbane, and Cochabamba? Who are those guys and how did they wind up here? Have my little stories somehow gone global?

Among the 80 or so to whom I send out my email notices, on average about ½ stop in for a look; several of those may view more than one story per visit. Broadly speaking, you may be my immediate family members, in-laws, cousins, or shirttails. Some are friends very old, such as classmates from as long ago as grade school. Or we’ve been pals through raising kids, camping and traveling. And there are new friends, including ones I mean to meet one day. Many of you know me because you worked in education with my wife, Linda. You may have met me in book study groups. We might have been in music, art or the advertising business together. And a few are right next door, my neighbors in Olympia. If each of you got one other person to join in, I’d have a whopping readership of a few dozen! Maybe even several dozen! Woo hoo!

My story “The Conundrum” about my late friend, Ken Bakeman, continues to draw interest among Ken’s fans of his creative work in the various periods of his life. Ken still has a worldwide following, so I get to spin off a smidge of his renown.  

A long-lost friend I used to work with thought of me for his personal project, designing an album cover for his band. He searched the web for Robert Sickles, only to find my blog. Nice reconnection!

A couple of my stories were remembrances, one for a high school teacher, and recently for a dear cousin. I have had visitors and comments from friends and family of both.

There must be folks who just wind up here for no particular reason. I don’t know, web surfers following random or misspelled links? Maybe they’re looking for someone else named Robert Sickles. Or they’re searching for a Latino graphic designer and landed on my site, logoenlacabeza.com.  (Lo siento, no soy de México.)

Incidentally, if you ever start a website, know that you will hear from scads of web developers who want to help maximize your business’s sales potential, or help expedite shipping from Asia, or whatever. Fortunately, I’m not selling anything and I don’t need to achieve a big hit count. 

I feel very supported by you. It’s gratifying to read your comments, I know I am touching hearts, changing minds and tickling funny bones. Even your comments that are short on praise are dear to me. One reader thanked me for a recent funny story, then said she hadn’t ready many of the others and would appreciate it if I took her name off my mailing list. Hmm. I got a “WTF?”comment from one friend—sure, I meandered off-road into New Age philosphy and the nature of reality. In another story, I revealed some personal and painful information in a piece I wrote about my sister; someone I know was put off by that, wondering why I would ever write such a thing. At first, I wondered if it was too much a tale of a broken heart. Not funny like my other stories? But really, my mission statement should be, “My memoirs may be enjoyable for you, but must be useful for me as well. I have to be an open book.” 

I greatly appreciate the patience of all who don’t always get my points of view, who aren’t bothered by my colorful past, and who struggle to follow my offbeat sense of humor.

By the way, to anyone who wants to try a go at writing memoirs. Two bits of advice from one who has experienced a lot but knows nothing:

Usually, it turns out better if you write for pleasure. Writing with the idea of selling books is a rough road — abandon all hope ye who enter Publishing Inferno. Neither self-publishing nor working with a literary agent is for the thin-skinned, and definitely not for the skinflint.

Unless you are a figure of important historical stature, or expect that your memoirs will be a reference source for the ages, don’t let accuracy get in the way of a telling good story.  Cut yourself some slack. No one will fact-check whether it was ’77 or ’78 in Rome, or maybe Milan, where you accidentally dropped a scoop of gelato right down Sophia Loren’s blouse.  (No, that didn’t happen to me! Yet.)

I will raise a glass to all of you on this upcoming St. Paddy’s Day! Sláinte!

May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been,

The foresight to know where you are going,

And the insight to know when you have gone too far.