There is a variety program on the Brazilian TV on Sundays that I enjoy watching fragments of it over the Internet. Last night, there was an interesting piece about “virtual heritage” and what to do with all the “You” that is published out there after you’ve gone from this earth. What to do with all the social networks, blogs, flickrs, email accounts, and whatever else you’ve locked and protected with a password?
How can you manage it after you’ve gone?
I’d already thought about it and, although I’ve no intentions in leaving this good and wonderful life now, I also have no problem with it, as I know what is waiting for me. But, just as a precaution, I have a password protected file in my computer named “secret shit” (because that’s all it is, but I guess even a little bit of shit is needed to get us going while here) with all the sites and passwords with a printed copy on the my personal physical file that the husband knows where it is. And I’ve already warned him: close everything, get the best pictures and keep the best memories.
Back to the program, there was this old couple with all their memories spread on the table: photos, pictures, postal cards, letters, mementos, a beautiful thing. Beside them, the grandchildren, with the cold and arid laptop, where they keep all their lives. Now, tell me, my dear readers, how did we get here?
I have so many photos in my computer, 4,000, last time I counted, that I don’t even know what to do with them. I miss the time when we had to develop the 24 exposures film – the 36 was more expensive – and we would keep the best ones, 4 or 5, which would go to an album that we showed to family and friends when they came to visit, and even kissed the photos of people we loved and missed.
And all the wrinkles, age signs, nail fungus, dirty noses, were kept as it were, eternalized as we didn’t need photoshop, because that’s how real people look like.
We were happy, and we knew it.