For example, I wish my dad would blog about his rascally-rebel-in-the-navy days.
Or my mom's cousin Clay would have blogged about his West Texas cotton farming and farming-activist days.
Or my grandmother would have blogged, cattily and with colorful Southern idioms, dishing on movie stars, politicians and neighbors alike.
Once, my dad asked me to transcribe a journal his father, my Pappaw, had kept during World War I. It was too brief, too succinct, and contained too little of Pappaw's dear personality. I had to read between the lines to detect the Pappaw I knew in the entries about digging trenches, marching miles in the rain and mud, and getting deloused somewhere in the French countryside.
If only Pappaw had had a blog when he got home, to write about the hard life of oil fields and to reminisce about the war to end all wars.
But I have Ernie, the author of Ernie's Place, a blog I read every day. He's not my relative, he's not from the South, and I've never even met him. Yet something about him reminds me of all the things I love and miss about the South and my Southern family.
Today Ernie got "tagged," charged by a fellow blogger to disclose seven lesser-known details about himself. As illustration of why I enjoy Ernie, here are a few choice tidbits from his response, "Tag, I'm What?"
"My life is an open book, so if there are seven things that you don’t know about me, you just haven’t been paying attention."
"I spend a lot of time wondering how a rule might fit me, and whether or not that rule should really apply to me. I find that most rules really shouldn’t apply to me. "
"I believe everything that anybody tells me. As long as they look me in the face and use a little sincerity. I’ve never been able to figure out why somebody might lie."
"I can’t do business with anybody wearing mirrored sun glasses."