I don't know exactly where to go with this, but I'll dig in with both hands anyway. I'm sorry if this comes across as too morbid or as ill-timed.
Doc's recent absence got all of us to thinking, and some good comments came out in the 'Loyalty' post where he assured us he's on the path to recovery from the ailment that attempted to lay him low. For this good news, we're all rightly thankful. And in *this* crowd I don't assume that more than maybe one or two of you won't have already pondered the issues of mortality, legacy, and other meaning-of-life-related issues at least as much as I have. But I thought this would be a good time to relay a single, crystallized thought I've had since I was probably nine or ten years old (it's not 'original' in the objective sense, but it is 'original' to me, at least at the time).
We are not our bodies, nor are we what we *think* we are. We are best defined by our impact on others, not by our impact on ourselves.
I'm a badly flawed human being. As badly flawed as any of you regulars on this board. I have said and done things I'm ashamed of to the point of pondering my self-worth at the most fundamental levels. But none of *you* know those facets of 'me.' What I am to *you* is what I project onto this narrow slice of communicative medium that we all cherish so much. None of you know that I'm currently building a poultry farm in the Philippines, for example, and that this endeavor consumes probably 80% of my waking thoughts. Few of you know that I'm an indie sci-fi/fantasy writer with 16 novels currently available on Amazon, and even fewer still have ever checked out my author page there or gone to my eponymous website (this last is in no small part due to the fact that I don't broadcast that information regularly--which I refrain from doing precisely because it's unimportant to our interactions *here*).
And the most fundamental reason that not every one of you knows those things about me is because, to you, that's not who I am. I'm 'Jonezy,' the eccentric lurker who infrequently bombards the place with overly opinionated rants that sometimes make you roll your eyes in annoyed bewilderment, and sometimes resonate *just enough* to keep you from wholly ignoring everything I say ;-)
I don't know much about our dear friend, Jeff Clarke, beyond my interactions with him here. Those interactions have revealed that he's a truly generous person, who is eager to share his wisdom with those who would listen and who 'tends his flock' (read: us) almost as an 'instinctive' act rather than any conscious objective (and I loathe the term 'instinctive' because, usually, it seems to diminish a person's choices and character--that is not my intention here). He has deeply touched all of our lives, even though most of us have never shared a room with him, and to us (even though he, himself, has chuckled at the etymology of the nickname) he's 'Doc.' And here's where it gets a little more interesting, to me at least:
He'll *always* be Doc to us. He could logoff tomorrow and never come back, and the impact he's had on our lives wouldn't diminish in the slightest. If you're putting down cold, hard cash at close to even odds, then you'd have to bet that this community wouldn't survive his permanent absence. Such is the way with charismatic leaders. But Doc's popularity here isn't built solely on his charisma--it's built on his wit, his wisdom, his love, and his devotion to the people he cares about. In that way, the person he is to us will live on forever.
Some people have jokingly chided in the last week or so that I'm doppleganging Doc's shtick of late, and to a point that's true. But it's not a 'conscious' decision on my part to do that so much as it's become routine for me to slip into the Jonezy character whenever I'm here with y'all. That Jonezy character has been pretty deeply impacted by his interactions with Doc, and even the guy behind Jonezy has been irrevocably changed for the better by his communications with our good friend Jeff. Such is the impact that Doc's had on all of our lives.
And honestly, I'm more than just a wee bit envious of him for that ;-)
As a writer with perhaps 1,500 fans of my best-selling series, I respect and admire Jeff's legacy that he's built here. I can only imagine his legacy in the Real World. The number of lives he's touched, the number of souls he's saved, and the sheer quality of interaction he has provided to countless people is something that any of us would be proud to have accomplished in our lifetimes. And I don't say this as someone attempting to curry favor with anyone. I mean it sincerely: our friend Doc has impacted all of us so deeply that, even though the reason for our initial gathering (Seattle Mariners baseball) has withered to an unrecognizable husk unworthy of our ongoing attention, we continue to gather in this place and talk about it, among other things. Why?
Because Doc literally made this community, and he made it (largely) in his own image. It's an extension of him, just like it has become an extension of each of us. He's the brain of this particular body (called 'SSI,' or 'DOV,' or whatever else it's been labeled in the past), no doubt about it, and no bodies survive long without that all-important organ. But even if this place closed its doors tomorrow, the personae we've crafted and been exposed to would persist between our ears and on the immortal e-pages of the interweb. The impact of those collected personae will be felt not only in our lives directly, but in the lives of everyone who comes into contact with them, or with us (the people behind those personae) as we navigate the often turbulent waters on the River of Life. We've grown our personae (birthed here or elsewhere but significantly cultivated in this place, under Doc's loving guidance) into permanent extensions of ourselves, and those extensions have radically altered the way we not only interact *here* but how we interact everywhere else.
I'm proud to have been part of this place, which means I'm proud to have been part of each of your lives (in the narrow fashion this medium permits). I've always felt like a parasite here--meaning someone who takes more than he gives--but such an accusation could never be made of our good friend Doc, whose persona and legacy will survive long past that 'Jeff' guy, whoever he thinks he is.
Because one thing I've learned in my life is that it's our impact on others that best defines us, not our impact on ourselves.