This morning, I transitioned to a new desktop computer - the first new machine I've had in several years. I started up the Thunderbird email program, and got ready to enter the long list of arcana that makes my little part of the Internet work: a tricky task for me, since my email address (bill at horne dot net) isn't hosted by my ISP, which is Speakeasy.
However, as Thunderbird started up, it suggested some email server names based on the email address I gave it, such as "snail.horne.net" and I clicked "Next" just to see what would happen. The machine hummed, contacted the IMAP server at horne dot net, and then started to download the first of 19,587 emails which dated back to September of 2008.
They were all mine. They were all valid. There was some spam, of course, but not that much, maybe 500 in all. It figures out to roughly 23 emails per day for the past 2 1/2 years.
Now, of course that's not interesting by itself: I had obviously checked the box that told the server to keep copies of emails, and (bless it's little electronic heart) it had done as I'd asked. What _is_ important is what I saw.
There were the usual appeals for funds from various charities, but there were also reminders to renew my membership in NORML. I had a fair percentage of posts to Usenet, on topics ranging from gun control, to abortion, to the need for Ham operators to stop crying about how the FCC doesn't require knowledge of Morse Code to become a Ham Radio operator any more.
There were desperate pleas for help in educating my son, who has Tourette Syndrome, sent to various public servants, school officials, media outlets, and "experts". There were follow-ups to various job applications, complaints to ISPs about spammers, and even an email answering a request that I participate in a study on depression.
All there, duplicated on my brand-new SATA disk drive, managed by a brand-new 64-bit multicore processor. All there, but most no longer applicable to me, no longer important to the people that wrote or received them.
My son made it to Eagle Scout rank, and is looking for a job as a plumber. He won't be a techie like me, but he'll be able to make a living and raise a family.
I got (but recently left) a job near to my home, and was able to rehone some old skills that had been rusty. I don't do much spam-fighting anymore, and although I sometimes use Morse Code on my Ham Radio station, I don't think its demise would spell the end of Amateur Radio.
In other words, that collection of electronic bits no longer represents
*me*. Looking at them now, I get the feeling that they never did, that there was always something else I probably wanted to say, some other point I should have made, another argument to be considered - but of course, those opinions come from an older, and hopefully wiser, man who has a couple more years under his belt.And yet ...
They were out there, available for inspection by anyone at the ISP, any federal agent, and probably by any PI with a glib tongue. They're out there *now*. They don't reflect my views anymore, but I'm the only person who could know that, n'est ce pas? I wonder how many other emails are "out there", floating in the electronic cloud, just waiting for inspection by the next McCarthy, the previous Bush, or the current Department of Homeland Security.
I get the feeling I should be worried about that. Those emails aren't me anymore - to the extent they ever were - and they could be taken out of context and used to construct any view of my past or of my politics that anyone might want.
Oh, and OBTelecom: I was thinking about the persistence of data that my email archive indicates, and I realized that Ma Bell has, to this day, tapes stored at Iron Mountain (or wherever) with billing details of every phone call I ever made or received.
It's out there. Should we start wiping our slates clean?
Bill Horne (Filter QRM for direct replies)