Late to the Funeral

I kept trying to convince myself to take a shot at doing the Blawg Review.  After it made a resurgence, I felt particularly committed.  It was my duty, I told myself.  It would be interesting, I told myself.

I didn't do it.  I was intimidated by all that was out there, by the terrific work that the blawggers who took their turns did.  I couldn't compete.  I didn't have the time.  I didn't have the wit.

Mostly, I didn't have the guts.  I was sure I'd not only do a terrible job but a deeply embarrassing shameful job.  I'd never live it down. 

I never met Ed.  I never corresponded with him, never received a note from him or a phone call.  But that he could herd lawyers (even if he couldn't herd me) into doing those weekly reviews.  Wow.  

And the reviews themselves?  They sent me to other blawggers.  I've gotten to know many of them.  A few I've met in person.  I've spoken on the phone with a few others.  And there are many I've corresponded with, sometimes directly, sometimes just through their blogs.  I think of them as, I refer to them as, friends.  Of a peculiar sort perhaps, but friends.  Many of whom I'd never have discovered without Ed.  Who I never had the pleasure to meet.

I've been writing this thing for almost four and a half years now. I started reading the Blawg Review shortly after I began writing this.  Thousands and thousands of words later (many of them drivel), I'm still going.  Ed's not.  He died last week.  He made a difference.

What did he do?  If you don't know the Blawg Review, go there.   Read Colin Samuels' In Memorium and follow the link to Greenfield and then on through a round robin of blawg reviews.  Notice what you're missing.  

And join me in mourning a man I never had the pleasure of meeting, speaking with, corresponding with.  And never the courage to step up and take my turn.

Ave, Ed.