Today is the second anniversary of Gerard Vanderleun’s death
[NOTE: This is a repost of an essay I wrote a few days after Gerard died. Also, he left instructions to close his blog two years after his death. I plan to do that in a few weeks. Meanwhile, I’m still compiling the poetry book, and I need his blog for that.]
It’s a daily voice, like a friend you talk to on the phone every day. The closest thing to this kind of writing prior to blogging was the daily columnist (when did those go out? or did they ever exist?).
You get to thinking a blogger is someone you know, and although the conversations are a mite one-sided, they’re not totally one-sided because many bloggers interact in the comments as well. And then there’s always email contact, which makes the blogger much more easily accessible than the olden-day columnist.
The writing voices of bloggers are highly idiosyncratic as well. It’s not newspaper reporting, after all, with its pretense of objectivity and impersonality. Also, there’s no middleman or editor. The blogger is all of that rolled into one.
Some bloggers are far more personal in their writing and disclosure than others. Gerard Vanderleun was that way, for example. I’m much more circumspect (remember that apple I hide behind). Then again, even what appears like openness is hardly full disclosure, and bloggers intentionally shape the personae they project. That’s why meeting a blogger in the real world usually causes some feeling of surprise, because the writer is not the person although the person is the writer.
So when a writer dies and that writing voice is stilled, it’s extra-noticeable for the readers. There’s often a pang very much like losing a good friend in real life, a friend with a major daily presence. The blogger has been churning out copy like a machine, usually every day and probably several times a day, often for years or decades. And then suddenly: silence. Utter utter silence.
It’s a very dramatic reminder that death is an abrupt and reluctant parting as far as our lives on earth go, and how powerless all of us are in its face.
[NOTE: For those of you who don’t know the story of why I’m writing about Gerard Vanderleun, please see this.]
Once again, RIP, and it’s good to know you are getting on with life.
These holes in my life are increasing in number these days, although, other than losing my parents decades ago, nothing so serious as this loss was for you. Three friends I’ve known for two decades here passed away just in the last year.
Remembering GDNL on this day. He was a writer of significance to all his many followers. We were blessed to have his voice in the blogosphere.
A life well lived. May he RIP.
It’s a shame Gerard isn’t around to see Trump’s second first week. I’d enjoy reading his thoughts on it.
Can you please comment on how the book is doing? I trust that things got off to a strong start, but hope it’s at least covering the publishing overhead.
Thanks!
Daily columnists did exist – I grew up reading two of the best, Herb Caen of the SF Chronicle, and Ray Orrock, originally of the (Hayward, CA) Daily Review. Plus Carl Steward on the sports page.
I moved away from CA almost 30 years ago when I joined the Army, and I still remember all of them. Writing truly is a form of immortality.
Huxley, YES, I would love to read Gerard thoughts on Trump, and also the last few years.
@ Kate > “Three friends I’ve known for two decades here passed away just in the last year.”
A long-time-friend passed away early last week, and his wife died on Saturday.
They had been in a nursing home just since Christmas.
I understand that happens frequently to old folks, almost as if they tacitly decided they were done already, thank you very much, and let’s move on.
Their family is hoping to have a joint service this week, on the already-scheduled day, and bury them together.
RIP indeed.
Dave L: I’d add Gene Amole of Denver’s Rocky Mountain News to stand tall with Herb Caen (I don’t know Roy Orrock). The Rocky Mountain News was one – if not #1 – of my favorite newspapers until they shut down in ’09.
I miss newspapers as they once were.
I miss reading Ol’ Remus and Gerard as well.
May your burden ease. I liked the guy.