This summer, Ben got his first part time job. He’d had some work experience before, but just odd jobs. This was fast food — regular hours, a uniform, and a steady pay check. He was excited, and we were excited for him. He hit every spot in town with his resume, then went home to apply online, since that’s how its done these days. He got two interviews, and got offers for both; he choose the one that paid more, and started training at Wendy’s almost immediately.

He considered it a prerequisite that he could drive himself to and from work, which we appreciated, and was conscientious about getting there on time. As low man on the totem pole, he had to work his way up from the grill. But he committed to that, and made his way up a few notches from there — even training new hires within his first month. Another downside to being the new guy is getting saddled with the closing shifts. As a teenager, he has no problem staying up late (and sleeping in until 11 AM the next day!) and we tried to be flexible. But as parents, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to go to bed until he was home safe…

Then one weekend, when friends were in from out of town, 1 AM rolled around and we were still up waiting. We’re modern worried parents, so we track his location via his phone — except it was off. The restaurant was supposed to have closed at 11, so midnight wouldn’t have been unexpected. Weekends are busy at Wendy’s, so 1 AM wouldn’t be out of the question — although 2 hours to close a store seemed pretty crazy. At 1:20 AM, enough time for him to make it home at the latest departure we could imagine, I went out looking for him. All sorts of thoughts were running through my mind, as I drove slowly, looking in ditches and for flashing lights. At 1:34 AM I made it to Wendy’s, relieved but angry that his car was still safely in the parking lot. I waved through the window at the guy cleaning the lobby, but he ignored me — Ben was nowhere to be seen. I’m sure they figured I was just some drunk guy looking for munchies, but I convinced them at least that I was an angry drunk as I banged on the window. Finally the night manager sauntered out of the back, unhurriedly, and in my mind, apparently waking up from a nap. I demanded to see my son, to which he replied “he’s still working,” muffled through the glass.

I’m quite sure my “dad voice” came back clearly, as I told him “not any more he’s not, this was his last shift. Get my son out here NOW!” (possibly followed by a colorful metaphor describing his management style.) I was still very obviously enraged when Ben emerged from the back with a mop in his hands. I told him he wasn’t in trouble, but to get home right away. We made it home by 2 AM — 3 hours after the store closed. I haven’t worked fast food since I was 17, so later on, I checked with a friend who managed a restaurant, and he confirmed that more than an hour to close a store was management incompetence.

We let Ben give a full two-weeks notice — on the condition that he keep his phone on (it turns out the manager had required him to turn it off) — and call us if he was asked to work past midnight. While the law in Ohio protects children under 18 from this kind of thing, it makes exceptions to most protections if school is not in session. Clearly the closing manager took advantage of those exceptions, and Ben’s solid work ethic. As the dad, I over-ruled, and he and I had a good talk about the reasons, which Ben mostly accepted as reasonable. Nonetheless, he got half a summer’s work experience, and loaded up his bank account with a good chunk of spending change. We were proud of him, and the way he handled himself throughout. In fact, I was the only person guilty of losing their cool through the whole thing.

Teaching your kid to drive is obviously nerve-wracking. You worry about their safety — both their lack of skill, and the other idiots on the road — but nothing really prepared us for the implications of them having this new freedom. As the kids get older, they have more activities outside the home, some even over night. But when you’re there for drop off and pick up (as exhausting as that can be), you feel some level of control. When they drive away into the night, not to return until (unless!) they successfully drive themselves back… it feels like a little piece of your heart has left your body, and you’re never fully sure it will come back. Just this summer a 19-year old kid disappeared coming home from his summer job in Ohio. Of course, statistically, these things are rare — and we try not to be nervous helicopter parents; we know our kids need to develop independence and autonomy. But, its still hard letting go — especially when your summer kicked-off with your youngest in surgery for a broken collarbone!

There have been easier milestones this summer, too. Abi moved into her own room last week. It’ll be the biggest adjustment for Eli, who is used to having her big sister close — but she gets a giant room to herself out of the deal, and Abi invited her to “sleep over” in her room the other night, to help her cope. With some convincing, Ben also re-arranged his room, putting away some of his childish toys and furniture. At first he was pretty sad about the idea, but as the space opened up, and he came up with ideas about how he might want his space to look and feel, he got pretty excited about it. We encouraged him to thin things out and think ahead to spaces like a college dorm or a first apartment — he’s a Junior this year (that’s Grade 11, for our Canadian friends), so that future isn’t far off.

And, of course, there was the comfort of some of favorite summer activities. Summer camp with their little buddies, and a nice visit home to Nana and Papa’s in Ontario prove that, though they’re big kids, they’re still kids — for a little longer anyway. A new school year starts this week, and with it, new challenges and experiences. Ben will be driving all three of them to and from school most days, and they already have full calendars of extra-curricular activities, school dances, etc…

More changes are inevitable, but we have great kids, and an awesome God who is sovereign. So we will continue to adjust to having little pieces of our hearts out in the world without us…

This website was started in 2000. I first made it as a place to get information about our upcoming wedding, but I’d been learning about databases and server-side programming, and by 2001 it had evolved into a web log, powered by an engine I’d written myself. I called it “eXpression” because it used XML webservices – and it helped me express myself online.

Over the past two decades it has served different purposes…

Before social media, it was a way people found me and Nic – people I didn’t know in real life would come up to me and tell me they read our blog, and felt like we were friends. I live-blogged the birth of our son in 2006, and learned afterward that the staff of the entire floor of the hospital we were in had followed along, and shared it with their friends and family.

During transition years, it was a way to keep up with people we’d moved away from. For awhile it was where we shared pictures and anecdotes of our kids growing up. For a few years it went mostly idle as Facebook took its place. In recent times, it’s been a way to process and react to tumultuous times in world history. Sometimes I think of shutting it down, but maybe some day I’ll be glad I saved it all. That is the case for another blog today.

Heather Armstrong was about 5 years older than us. She also started her blog, dooce, in 2001, and became Internet-famous in 2002 when it got her fired. Turns out her co-workers did not enjoy her writing about them online. The term “dooced” became a short-hand for losing your job over your Internet activities. The Instagram and Tik Tok generation should take notes…

I followed dooce for years. Along with a couple other content creators, like wilwheaton.net and Ze Frank, it helped me figure out what kinds of thingsI wanted to publish (and what kinds of things probably shouldn’t.) Heather blogged earnestly and honestly, and when she and her husband Jon became parents, we were often moved by her transparency and vulnerability about the deep, joyful, heart-wrenching and life-changing experience of bringing a new human into the world. We didn’t always agree with their parenting style or life choices, but we appreciated her open and frank exploration of the feelings, decisions and challenges that new parents have to face. Dooce was, and is, an important part of what the Internet was supposed to look like – before exploiting people became a big business; when it was just individuals trying to use technology to connect, and experience the world through another person’s words…

Heather died earlier this week. On her second attempt in as many years, she succeeded in taking her own life.

Despite millions of followers on her various social media, and being (rightfully!) trumpeted as the “queen of the mommy bloggers” and a social justice champion for women, she died alone and in pain. And although many are spouting their affection for her now, thousands of her followers had rejected and attacked her viewpoint on her own, and her daughter’s, mental health.

Her suicide wasn’t the result of that rejection. Recent years of her blog chronicle her divorce, struggles with depression, substance abuse, an eating disorder and her previous suicide attempt. She clearly had a lot of pain and trauma that had tormented her for years. But in August of 2022, she penned one her most personal and deep blog posts, asserting that the counseling she had received, and that the path her eldest child had been lead down, were wrong. From the post, it appears both had been told that gender issues were the root cause of their pain, and were guided towards some kind of transition as a way to resolve their pain. In her post, Heather rejected this theory – not for everyone: she acknowledges that some people struggle with that very pain. But she asserts that gender issues have become a social disease; a blanket assumption to be applied to everyone experiencing trauma, and that this sweeping “solution” causes more suffering than people realize.

For this slightly more nuanced position on the gender debate, Heather was viciously attacked on social media. As bloggers write their own eulogies for her now, some still describe that post as being hateful. She took the post down shortly after the attacks began, and while the Internet Archive still has a copy, I’m also attaching it to this blog post. Because despite all Heather did to be heard and seen, when she really needed it, our culture turned against her.

I hadn’t read dooce in years. Like this blog, it transformed multiple times, and she lost me in there somewhere. But if Heather left a legacy for the Internet, it is a cautionary one, told in three parts. At the beginning, it was a reminder that what we do online is not really separate from our real lives — or our jobs. In the middle, it is a clear illustration that Internet-fame may pay the bills for some, but it does not bring happiness. And at the end, it proves that real human connection, that actual unconditional, agape love cannot be sold online, brokered through digital media, or counted in followers…

Heather correctly identified her religious upbringing as largely abusive, and wrote often about escaping the baggage it carried. But there was still very obviously a hole in her life – one she tried almost everything to fill. I don’t know what the other side looks like for her (or really for any of us), but I hope that there was at least a moment where she felt real love, and real connection – if not in this life, than in the next one…

My first day of college, I was determined to put myself out there and make new friends. My strategy was simple, if I saw someone in at least two of my classes, I would introduce myself to them. When the same guy chose to sit beside me in two different classes on the same day, I assumed that person had similarly decided that we were friends.

At the end of the second week, the group of us who had congealed determined we should go out for dinner at Kelsey’s with our girlfriends. There ended up being 6 of us who went. Chad was the only one who got up on the table and serenaded us — no alcohol was involved; Chad just had a gregarious personality. His girlfriend balanced him out with her grace and conscientiousness. We were happy we had selected these new friends.

That was 24 years ago, and they are still some of our favorite people in the world. Both couples married young, launched into careers, followed fairly quickly by kids. We’ve moved a number of times, they’ve stayed pretty close to where we met. Whenever we can, we see our old friends. When we’re really lucky, we see them somewhere warm and sunny.

In the before times (before Covid, that is) we vacationed together in Mexico. They went on a similar trip the next year, but we couldn’t make it. They returned to quarantine as the pandemic swept the world. 2023 was the first time we all felt good about trying again, this time to the Dominican Republic. They brought her sister and brother-in-law, who were wonderful travel companions. Kids were not invited (thanks to Mom and Dad for coming across the pond to babysit!)

I’d like to say we went on lots of adventures and really explored the D.R. — that’s what a younger version of me would have insisted on. Instead, we mostly lazed by the pool, drank watered-down beverages, and played the occasional board game. It was a pretty ideal week, catching up with our college buddies, and comparing notes on middle-aged life.

We did take one excursion: a very middle-aged bus tour, that included a gondola ride up a mountain, and some window shopping in the tourist-trap district. It was the perfect amount of activity, in an otherwise perfectly restful trip.

10 out of 10, vacations with old friends are highly recommended.

In retrospect, Facebook closing off their APIs might have been the original death knell of the social network. An API is an Application Programmer’s Interface — it provides a surface that allows programmers to interact with code that is not their own. Often this is about getting data out, and putting data it, but it can also be used to access functionality of someone else’s program. You see one every time your phone sends you a push notification — that’s an API provided by the phone’s platform developer, that allows apps to alert of you of things. APIs need to be carefully thought through, to avoid being overly permissive, or creating security problems, but generally they’re a good thing, because they foster a level of transparency. If outside apps can see and interact with a platform’s functionality, there’s a mutual accountability in-place.

Facebook had lots of APIs — probably too many. Their data access API allowed Cambridge Analytica to scrape the data of their users to inform and manipulate politics. Their games APIs brought scourges like Farmville, and its repeated invites to join your friends. But they also had APIs for sharing, for getting access to your own data outside their walled garden, and for syndicating content you owned into their platform. When they decided to close their APIs, they addressed some issues, but created more. Suddenly we were trapped in their increasingly toxic environment by the “network effort” we’d all contributed to, afraid to incur the cost of abandoning our “relationships.”

Last week, Twitter made a similar move. Many of those still hoping that Elon would pull the nose up determined that was the final straw — including me. I’ve had a Mastodon profile since 2020; to be honest, its not a great experience. But its federated (de-centralized), open, and people are figuring out how to use it. I’ll be there, because there’s no better alternative, but what I’m more optimistic about is the resurgence of blogging.

Yup, blogging is cool again

In January I participated in Bring Back Blogs! an effort to encourage people to dust off their blogs and start creating content they owned for themselves. Last year I submitted my humble site to IndieWeb, something not unlike the “webrings” of old. There’s a half dozen blogs newly added to my RSS reader, and it feels good!

One of the down-sides of decentralization is that there’s a discoverability problem. Social networks tried to address that by creating a central place where you could see content your personal network generated — lots of people found my blog because I pimped it on Facebook (very few through Twitter.) The unintended consequence of this was that the algorithm began rewarding content that incited a reaction: people post conspiracy theories and rage bait because it garners “likes” and comments on their social profile. There’s no real thought or creative exercise required — just re-post or re-Tweet and watch the Internet points roll in!

The thing is, we found content before algorithms fed it to us. We surfed, searched, bookmarked and subscribed. And maybe that was better.

I’m going to try to post here more

I won’t try to draw parallels between open borders and open APIs — save that thoughtful application of policy, and an examination of unintended consequences is important in both cases. For 12 out of 16 years, we’ve been guests in a country that has had its share of hits and misses — in recent years, and in its past. The average is still better than most, however, and while we’ve frequently recalculated, the math remains in favor of staying. That decision, of course, is not entirely our own, and over the years we’ve petitioned the government for a variety of statuses. The status of “permanent resident” has been out of reach for a long time. Last week we got word that it has been granted to us.

For Nic, this means she exists as a person; she can have a bank account, a job (if she wants), and has rights if something happens to me. For Eli, it means she can go to college here (some day.) For me, it means I am not tied to a sponsoring employer. I am free to pursue the American Dream in whatever way I choose.

The Land of Opportunity

The cost of living in our home and native land continues to soar — its almost unfathomable. We have a good sized house, on a little piece of land, in a good school district here: we could trade it for a row-house condo back home if we were lucky.

My current job is wrapped in two layers of government bureaucracy. Everyone wants to do the right thing, but are hamstrung by process and policy. The argument for small government is not an unreasonable one: our organization exists to help U.S. manufacturers, but our government-imposed processes are too onerous for most of them to make it through.

Despite my complaints on this site, I believe in the power of technology to help people; like any tool, you can wield it to build up, or tear down. If recent events have convinced me of anything, its that our tools aren’t being used well. Opportunity exists to help people do better.

With our new status, I’m creating and helping create two organizations, effective immediately.

One is a not-for-profit that will contribute to open source projects, seek to preserve digital artifacts to ensure we don’t forget the lessons of technology history, and help faith-based organizations and ministries with their technology needs. Our family will directly run this organization, and employ Ben as he’s available and interested in developing and exercising his skills in this way.

The other is a for-profit system integrator that I’ve been advising on pro-bono, until our change of status. We’re creating this organization to consult with and guide small and medium manufacturers on the practical application of information technology to improve productivity, reduce waste, and optimize energy consumption. I’ll be doing this part-time for now, while continuing to contribute to my primary employer’s mission to do similar things through federal investments, and a membership model.

National Interest Waiver

Our change of status was based on an accelerated process called a National Interest Waiver. The lawyers made the case that the country could benefit from my skills, and the government eventually agreed. I don’t know anyone who lives here who loves their government all the time. I do know a few who are convinced that God has granted this land some kind of special status as His favorite. And there’s a vocal group on either side who are sure that the whole country has turned evil — for one reason or another.

In fact, just like our home country, there’s good and bad mixed together here. No country works the way God intended, and for believers, this is not meant to be our permanent home. Its the place He has put us to represent Him, and to be His hands and feet. We are called to love and to serve others.

For most of 16 years, everywhere we’ve lived has felt entirely temporary: don’t plant the roots too deep, we might need to rip them up tomorrow! And maybe one day God will place us in a different home again. But for today, He has graciously granted us permanent residence, and from where we sit, that is a good thing. We have things we want to do here, and while we have our own interests to look after — some of which require income not previously available to us — we will endeavor to do so in the interests of our community, this country that has allowed us to call it home, and our Savior, whose purposes are greater than anything any nation can aspire to.

The threat of losing our income, status and home is one we’ve lived under for a long time. As temporary residents, losing a job would mean losing everything almost instantly. God has been faithful, and we’ve worked hard, and our needs have always been met. But our freedom beyond that has been constrained for too long.

We couldn’t be more grateful, or more relieved, by this Adjustment of Status. For the first time maybe since we’ve been married, we are home. And our APIs are open 🙂