Reading Brian’s post on his splendid EDUCAUSE Review mashup article (go read it right this red hot second–you will thank me, I promise), I realize I have yet to blog on my essay in the Sept/Oct. issue, or post a link to the podcast, or give my thanks. Although this post cannot begin to express the gratitude I feel, I will give it a shot anyway.

Thanks first and foremost to my editor, Teddy Diggs. It sounds presumptuous to call her “my” editor–after all, she edited Brian’s piece too, and hundreds of others–but she is so open and interested, so focused on bringing out the best I have to offer, that it feels as if she’s devoting her entire attention to me and only me for the duration of the project. If there’s writing in me that can come out, Teddy will see to it that it does. And her editing is just as subtle and effective as Brian says. I take notes on her technique so that I can improve my own work with my students in this regard. She’s a gem, and I’m deeply grateful she asked me to contribute to this issue.

Those of you who’ve followed my ups and downs over the past year will probably understand why I found the essay very difficult to write at times. It’s a memoir, so the research demands were comparatively light, and the conceptual framework was what I decided it would be. The difficulties came as I tried to think about an aspect of my intellectual and professional life that has occasioned some very intense times for me of late, both good and not-so-good. On a very mundane note, my laptop’s hard drive crashed right after I sent the final draft in to Teddy. It’s hard not to read that event symbolically. (Okay, I confess: I do read it symbolically.) Maybe I bore down on the keyboard a little more heavily than usual. As I wrote the piece, I had to consider whether this long strange trip had been worth it, after all. I had to take stock of a large commitment of most of my adult life, a commitment I hadn’t been fully aware of before the spring of 2003, and one that grew explosively in the three years following that spring. An explosive commitment: yes, that just about describes it.

So I want to thank my wonderful family–Ian, Jenny, and especially and always my longsuffering wife Alice–for enduring the explosions, and continuing to live through the intensity. I don’t typically shy away from an outpouring of profuse sentiment, but in this case I’m afraid I might outmaudlin even me, so they will have to be content with the depth I hope they know is behind these words.

There’s a long list of other people to thank, “with more warmth than a list can suggest,” as my Milton teacher once put it: Brian, Bryan, Dennis, Diana, Brian (not a misprint–there are two), Larry, all my Frye buddies (especially Andrew), Rachel, Cyprien, Jon, Barbara, Karen, Alan, Bill, Phil, Dave, Terry, Claudia, Bart, Freff, Kevin, Mark, Terry, John, Wes, Jill, Doug, Robin, Wendy, Rob G., Michael, Marcia, M.C., Steve, Jeff, Gene, Chuck, Vidya, Vicki. Many others; I fear I’ve left someone out. I cannot forget my beloved students–many of them now friends as well–who are particularly adept at keeping the marvels coming in all my adventures. They are beloved, oh yes they are. I hope they can bear up under that burden.

But finally, given that my subject was my involvement with computers, I pause a moment to thank Chip, Martha, Jerry, Andy, Jim, and Patrick. They continue to inspire me in ways I cannot begin to measure. They are patient and playful with me as I make my slow way back to the land of marvels. Special thanks to Martha, who read early drafts of the essay and generously encouraged me to keep at it.

There’s no orchestra here to start playing and stop my speech, so I’ll have to step in and stop me myself. My apologies to Alfred Bester–I’m spacey enough that this just might work, a little, as a once and future epigraph to my computer romance:

Gardner is my name,

Terra is my nation;

Deep space my dwelling place–

The stars my destination.

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