Posts in the Personal Category

Today is very much like it was twelve years ago, warm but not hot and cool in the shade, the sky a kind of clear you don’t often get in Cleveland.  It felt that way from dawn, and when I went back to check the weather for June 7, 2014, which is a thing you can so easily do now, the feeling was validated.

I find myself thinking less of that day and more of the day of her funeral.  Sitting with my sister and father, giving them contingency instructions.  The masses of people.  The words I wish I’d thought to add.  The limo ride through so many road construction zones.  The thud of earth on urn, mourner after mourner adding a few more clods to the slowly filling grave.  Clinging to Kat as we sobbed.  All of them almost like things I saw in a movie once, and also absolutely nothing like that.

This would be her adulthood.  No longer a child, finally, on the schedule that should have been kept.  She most likely would have graduated high school a couple of weeks ago, unless the spark in her drove her to graduate a year early, or drove her to so much juvenile mischief that she ended up a year behind.  Even in the latter case, I don’t think she would have been destructive, but I can’t be sure of that.  She never got close to the age where kids learn how to be cruel, let alone the later age where they learn why they shouldn’t be.  Well, most of them do; the exceptions go on to run bad governments.

This transition from phantom childhood to phantom adulthood feels like it could be a transition for us as well.  Every year we’ve gone as a family to the grave on the day, parents and children and lately grandchildren.  Perhaps, in years to come, we won’t be as bound to the exact day.  Maybe we’ll each go on our own, or in smaller groups.  Maybe not.  I don’t know.  But this is the year we would have started to let her go, had we not been forced to do so twelve years early, to let her spread her wings and find her way.  It’s possible that we will start to do the same.  We’ve already begun to talk about it, a little bit.

For this year, at any rate, we all went as a family on the day.  Her big sister’s little one had picked a cellophane spinner to decorate the grave, and when we stuck it into the earth at the top edge of the stone, the sun used it to cast glowing purple patches across her name.  Sometimes the breeze would slow and leave the spinner in just the right orientation to turn the purple into a butterfly.

The Rebecca we knew would have delighted at that.  The today’s Rebecca we never got to know probably would have rolled her eyes over it, but I like to think she still would have found it delightful.

• Eighteen was published on Sunday, June 7th, 2026.
• It was assigned to the Rebecca category.
• There have been five replies.

Design for Real Life is now available, for free, in its entirety, at dfrlbook.com.  If you like what you read and want a personal copy, or just to support Sara and me, print-on-demand and ePub versions are also available from a number of sources.  There are some countries where the book is not yet available, which we hope will be fixed soon.  We’ll update the “Buy the book” page as appropriate.

The booksite contains the entire content of the book, with no paywalls or premium tiers or whatever gimmicks late-stage capitalism/early-stage infoconomy is forcing online publishers to try this month.  So if you want to read it for nothing more than some of your time, or share it with people who you think might benefit from the free resource, go for it!  Spread the word far and wide!  Please and thank you.

To those who already own a copy of the book, the only real differences between that text and the one we have now is: we removed all the A Book Apart (ABA) branding and contact information, and made a couple of URL updates.  We also had to switch to fonts for which we had licensing.  Thus, if you have the ABA version, this is essentially the same thing.  You do not need to buy this new printing.  You certainly can buy it, if you want, but the content won’t be different in any meaningful way.

A project like this does not happen individually, and some thanks are in order.

First, so very many thanks to my co-author, Sara Wachter-Boettcher.  Not just for writing it with me almost a decade ago, but also for her tireless work on the tedious minutia of transferring ownership of publisher accounts, obtaining a new ISBN, organizing the work that needed to be done, et cetera, et cetera.  Basically, project managed the whole thing.  It would have taken forever to get done if I’d been in charge, so the credit for it being live goes entirely to her.

Second, many thanks to Jeff Eaton, who wrote a converter called Dancing Queen that takes in an ABA ePub file and spits out Markdown files containing all the text and images of the figures.  Then he gave it to us all for free.

Third, we were able to get the book up for free thanks to the generosity of fellow ABA author and union man Mat Marquis, who wrote some code to take the output of Dancing Queen and import it into an 11ty install.  He did free tech support and lent a helping hand to us whenever we ran into snags.  He was also an integral part of the process that led to all the ABA authors reclaiming full ownership of their books.  He’ll deny every word of it, but dude is a mensch.  You should hire him to do cool stuff for you.

Speaking of all the ABA authors, the community we formed to help each other through the reclamation process has been a real blessing.  So many tips and tricks and expressions of support and celebrations of progress have flowed through the team over the past few months.  None of us had to do any of this alone.  Collective action, community support, works.

The conversion to ePub was handled by the entirely capable Ron Bilodeau, who leveraged his experience doing that work for ABA to do it for us.  Thank you, Ron!

And certainly not least, thank you to everyone at A Book Apart for publishing the book in the first place, for being great partners in its creation, and for releasing the books back to us when it was time to close up shop.  It’s hard to imagine it would have existed at all without ABA, so thank you, one and all.

• Design for Real Life: Online for Free AND On Sale for Money was published on Thursday, October 10th, 2024.
• It was assigned to the Books, Design, and Writing categories.
• There has been one reply.

If you’re reading this, odds are you’ve at least heard of A Book Apart (ABA), who published Design for Real Life, which I co-wrote with Sara Wachter-Boettcher back in 2016.  What you may not have heard is that ABA has closed up shop.  There won’t be any more new ABA titles, nor will ABA continue to sell the books in their catalog.

That’s the bad news.  The great news is that ABA has transferred the rights for all of its books to their respective authors! (Not every ex-publisher does this, and not every book contract demands it, so thanks to ABA.) We’re all figuring out what to do with our books, and everyone will make their own choices.  One of the things Sara and I have decided to do is to eventually put the entire text online for free, as a booksite.  That isn’t ready yet, but it should be coming somewhere down the road.

In the meantime, we’ve decided to cut the price of print and e-book copies available through Ingram.  DfRL was the eighteenth book ABA put out, so we’ve decided to make the price of both the print and e-book $18, regardless of whether those dollars are American, Canadian, or Australian.  Also €18 and £18.  Basically, in all five currencies we can define, the price is 18 of those.

…unless you buy it through Apple Books; then it’s 17.99 of every currency, because the system forces us to make it cheaper than the list price and also have the amount end in .99.  Obversely, if you’re buying a copy (or copies) for a library, the price has to be more than the list price and also end in .99, so the library cost is 18.99 currency units.  Yeah, I dunno either.

At any rate, compared to its old price, this is a significant price cut, and in some cases (yes, Australia, we’re looking at you) it’s a huge discount.  Or, at least, it will be at a discount once online shops catch up.  The US-based shops seem to be up to date, and Apple Books as well, but some of the “foreign” (non-U.S.) sources are still at their old prices.  In those cases, maybe wishlist or bookmark or something and keep an eye out for the drop.  We hope it will become global by the end of the week.  And hey, as I write this, a couple of places have the ebook version for like 22% less than our listed price.

So!  If you’ve always thought about buying a copy but never got around to it, now’s a good time to get a great deal.  Ditto if you’ve never heard of the book but it sounds interesting, or you want it in ABA branding, or really for any other reason you have to buy a copy now.

I suppose the real question is, should you buy a copy?  We’ll grant that some parts of it are a little dated, for sure.  But the concepts and approaches we introduced can be seen in a lot of work done even today.  It made significant inroads into government design practices in the UK and elsewhere, for example, and we still hear from people who say it really changed how they think about design and UX.  We’re still very proud of it, and we think anyone who takes the job of serving their users seriously should give it a read.  But then, I guess we would, or else we’d never have written it in the first place.

And that’s the story so far.  I’ll blog again when the freebook is online, and if anything else changes as we go through the process.  Got questions?  Leave a comment or drop me a line.

• Design for Real Life News! was published on Monday, July 22nd, 2024.
• It was assigned to the Web and Writing categories.
• There have been two replies.

I woke up this morning about an hour ahead of my alarm, the sky already light, birds calling.  After a few minutes, a brief patter of rain swept across the roof and moved on.

I just lay there, not really thinking.  Feeling.  Remembering.

Almost sixteen years to the minute before I awoke, my second daughter was born.  Almost ten years to the same minute before, she’d turned six years old, already semi-unconscious, and died not quite twelve hours later.

So she won’t be taking her first solo car drive today.  She won’t be celebrating with dinner at her favorite restaurant in the whole world.  She won’t kiss her niece good night or affectionately rag on her siblings.

Or maybe she wouldn’t have done any of those things anyway, after a decade of growth and changes and paths taken.  What would she really be like, at sixteen?

We will never know.  We can’t even guess.  All of that, everything she might have been, is lost.

This afternoon, we’ll visit Rebecca’s grave, and then go to hear her name read in remembrance at one of her very happiest places, Anshe Chesed Fairmount Temple, for the last time.  At the end of the month, the temple will close as part of a merger.  Another loss.

A decade ago, I said that I felt the weight of all the years she would never have, and that they might crush me.  Over time, I have come to realize all the things she never saw or did adds to that weight.  Even though it seems like it should be the same weight.  Somehow, it isn’t.

I was talking about all of this with a therapist a few days ago, about the time and the losses and their accumulated weight.  I said, “I don’t know how to be okay when I failed my child in the most fundamental way possible.”

“You didn’t fail her,” they said gently.

“I know that,” I replied. “But I don’t feel it.”

A decade, it turns out, does not change that.  I’m not sure now that any stretch of time ever could.

• A Decade Later, A Decade Lost was published on Friday, June 7th, 2024.
• It was assigned to the Rebecca category.
• There have been thirty-two replies.

Once upon a time, there was a movie called Once Upon a Forest.  I’ve never seen it.  In fact, the only reason I know it exists is because a few years after it was released, Joshua Davis created a site called Once Upon a Forest, which I was doing searches to find again.  The movie came up in my search results; the site, long dead, did not.  Instead, I found its original URL on Joshua’s Wikipedia page, and the Wayback Machine coughed up snapshots of it, such as this one.  You can also find static shots of it on Joshua’s personal web site, if you scroll far enough.

That site has long stayed with me, not so much for its artistic expression (which is pleasant enough) as for how the pieces were produced.  Joshua explained in a talk that he wrote code to create generative art, where it took visual elements and arranged them randomly, then waited for him to either save the result or hit a key to try again.  He created the elements that were used, and put constraints on how they might be arranged, but allowed randomness to determine the outcome.

That appealed to me deeply.  I eventually came to realize that the appeal was rooted in my love of the web, where we create content elements and visual styles and scripted behavior, and then we send our work into a medium that definitely has constraints, but something very much like the random component of generative art: viewport size, device capabilities, browser, and personal preference settings can combine in essentially infinite ways.  The user is the seed in the RNG of our work’s output.

Normally, we try very hard to minimize the variation our work can express.  Even when crossing from one experiential stratum to another  —  that is to say, when changing media breakpoints  —  we try to keep things visually consistent, orderly, and understandable.  That drive to be boring for the sake of user comprehension and convenience is often at war with our desire to be visually striking for the sake of expression and enticement.

There is a lot, and I mean a lot, of room for variability in web technologies.  We work very hard to tame it, to deny it, to shun it.  Too much, if you ask me.

About twelve and half years ago, I took a first stab at pushing back on that denial with a series posted to Flickr called “Spinning the Web”, where I used CSS rotation transforms to take consistent, orderly, understandable web sites and shake them up hard.  I enjoyed the process, and a number of people enjoyed the results.

In the past few months, I’ve come back to the concept for no truly clear reason and have been exploring new approaches and visual styles.  The first collection launched a few days ago: Spinning the Web 2023, a collection of 26 web sites remixed with a combination of CSS and JS.

I’m announcing them now in part because this month has been dubbed “Genuary”, a month for experimenting with generative art, with daily prompts to get people generating.  I don’t know if I’ll be following any of the prompts, but we’ll see.  And now I have a place to do it.

You see, back in 2011, I mentioned that my working title for the “Spinning the Web” series was “Once Upon a Browser”.  That title has never left me, so I’ve decided to claim it and created an umbrella site with that name.  At launch, it’s sporting a design that owes quite a bit to Once Upon a Forest  —  albeit with its own SVG-based generative background, one I plan to mess around with whenever the mood strikes.  New works will go up there from time to time, and I plan to migrate the 2011 efforts there as well.  For now, there are pointers to the Flickr albums for the old works.

I said this back in 2011, and I mean it just as much in 2023: I hope you enjoy these works even half as much as I enjoyed creating them.

• Once Upon a Browser was published on Tuesday, January 2nd, 2024.
• It was assigned to the CSS, Design, and Projects categories.
• There have been two replies.

I haven’t generally been one to survey years as they end, but I’m going to make an exception for 2023, because there were three pretty big milestones I’d like to mark.

The first is that toward the end of May, the fifth edition of CSS: The Definitive Guide was published.  This edition weighs in at a mere 1,126 pages, and covers just about everything in CSS that was widely supported by the end of the 2022, and a bit from the first couple of months in 2023.  It’s about 5% longer by page count than the previous edition, but it has maybe 20% more material.  Estelle and I pulled that off by optimizing some of the older material, dropping some “intro to web” stuff that was still hanging about in the first chapter, and replacing all the appendices from the fourth edition with a single appendix that lists the URLs of useful CSS resources.  As with the previous edition, the files used to produce the figures for the book are all available online as a website and a repository.

The second is that Kat and I went away for a week in the summer to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary.  As befits our inclinations, we went somewhere we’d never been but always wanted to visit, the Wisconsin Dells and surrounding environs.  We got to tour The Cave of the Mounds (wow), The House on the Rock (double wow), The World of Doctor Evermore (wowee), and the Dells themselves.  We took a river tour, indulged in cheesy tourist traps, had some fantastic meals, and generally enjoyed our time together.  I did a freefall loop-de-loop waterslide twice, so take that, Action Park.

The third is that toward the end of the year, Kat and I became grandparents to the beautiful, healthy baby of our daughter Carolyn.  A thing that people who know us personally know is that we love babies and kids, so it’s been a real treat to have a baby in our lives again.  It’s also been, and will continue to be, a new and deeper phase of parenthood, as we help our child learn how to be a parent to her child.  We eagerly look forward to seeing them both grow through the coming years.

So here’s to a year that contained some big turning points, and to the turning points of the coming year.  May we all find fulfillment and joy wherever we can.

• 2023 in (Brief) Review was published on Sunday, December 31st, 2023.
• It was assigned to the Books, Carolyn, and Parenting categories.
• There has been one reply.

A few days ago was the 30th anniversary of the first time I wrote an HTML document.  Back in 1993, I took a Usenet posting of the “Incomplete Mystery Science Theater 3000 Episode Guide” and marked it up.  You can see the archived copy here on meyerweb.  At some point, the markup got updated for reasons I don’t remember, but I can guarantee you the original had uppercase tag names and I didn’t close any paragraphs.  That’s because I was using <P> as a shorthand for <BR><BR>, which was the style at the time.

Its last-updated date of December 3, 1993, is also the date I created it.  I was on lobby duty with the CWRU Film Society, and had lugged a laptop (I think it was an Apple PowerBook of some variety, something like a 180, borrowed from my workplace) and a printout of the HTML specification (or maybe it was “Tags in HTML”?) along with me.

I spent most of that evening in the lobby of Strosacker Auditorium, typing tags and doing find-and-replace operations in Microsoft Word, and then saving as text to a file that ended in .html, which was the style at the time.  By the end of the night, I had more or less what you see in the archived copy.

The only visual change between then and now is that a year or two later, when I put the file up in my home directory, I added the toolbars at the top and bottom of the page  —  toolbars I’d designed and made a layout standard as CWRU’s webmaster.  Which itself only happened because I learned HTML.

A couple of years ago, I was fortunate enough to be able to relate some of this story to Joel Hodgson himself.  The story delighted him, which delighted me, because delighting someone who has been a longtime hero really is one of life’s great joys.  And the fact that I got to have that conversation, to feel that joy, is inextricably rooted in my sitting in that lobby with that laptop and that printout and that Usenet post, adding tags and saving as text and hitting reload in Mosaic to instantly see the web page take shape, thirty years ago this week.

• Three Decades of HTML was published on Wednesday, December 6th, 2023.
• It was assigned to the (X)HTML, History, and Web categories.
• There have been four replies.

The Web is a little bit darker today, a fair bit poorer: Molly Holzschlag is dead.  She lived hard, but I hope she died easy.  I am more sparing than most with my use of the word “friend”, and she was absolutely one.  To everyone.

If you don’t know her name, I’m sorry.  Too many didn’t.  She was one of the first web gurus, a title she adamantly rejected  —  “We’re all just people, people!”  —  but it fit nevertheless.  She was a groundbreaker, expanding and explaining the Web at its infancy.  So many people, on hearing the mournful news, have described her as a force of nature, and that’s a title she would have accepted with pride.  She was raucous, rambunctious, open-hearted, never ever close-mouthed, blazing with fire, and laughed (as she did everything) with her entire chest, constantly.  She was giving and took and she hurt and she wanted to heal everyone, all the time.  She was messily imperfect, would tell you so loudly and repeatedly, and gonzo in all the senses of that word.  Hunter S. Thompson should have written her obituary.

I could tell so many stories.  The time we were waiting to check into a hotel, talking about who knows what, and realized Little Richard was a few spots ahead of us in line.  Once he’d finished checking in, Molly walked right over to introduce herself and spend a few minutes talking with him.  An evening a group of us had dinner one the top floor of a building in Chiba City and I got the unexpectedly fresh shrimp hibachi.  The time she and I were chatting online about a talk or training gig, somehow got onto the subject of Nick Drake, and coordinated a playing of “ Three Hours” just to savor it together.  A night in San Francisco where the two of us went out for dinner before some conference or other, stopped at a bar just off Union Square so she could have a couple of drinks, and she got propositioned by the impressively drunk couple seated next to her after they’d failed to talk the two of us into hooking up.  The bartender couldn’t stop laughing.

Or the time a bunch of us were gathered in New Orleans (again, some conference or other) and went to dinner at a jazz club, where we ended up seated next to the live jazz trio and she sang along with some of the songs.  She had a voice like a blues singer in a cabaret, brassy and smoky and full of hard-won joys, and she used it to great effect standing in front of Bill Gates to harangue him about Internet Explorer.  She raised it to fight like hell for the Web and its users, for the foundational principles of universal access and accessible development.  She put her voice on paper in some three dozen books, and was working on yet another when she died.  In one book, she managed to sneak past the editors an example that used a stick-figure Kama Sutra custom font face.  She could never resist a prank, particularly a bawdy one, as long as it didn’t hurt anyone.

She made the trek to Cleveland at least once to attend and be part of the crew for one of our Bread and Soup parties.  We put her to work rolling tiny matzoh balls and she immediately made ribald jokes about it, laughing harder at our one-up jokes than she had at her own.  She stopped by the house a couple of other times over the years, when she was in town for consulting work, “Auntie Molly” to our eldest and one of my few colleagues to have spent any time with Rebecca.  Those pictures were lost, and I still keenly regret that.

There were so many things about what the Web became that she hated, that she’d spent so much time and energy fighting to avert, but she still loved it for what it could be and what it had been originally designed to be.  She took more than one fledgling web designer under her wing, boosted their skills and careers, and beamed with pride at their accomplishments.  She told a great story about one, I think it was Dunstan Orchard but I could be wrong, and his afternoon walk through a dry Arizona arroyo.

I could go on for pages, but I won’t; if this were a toast and she were here, she would have long ago heckled me (affectionately) into shutting up.  But if you have treasured memories of Molly, I’d love to hear them in the comments below, or on your own blog or social media or podcasts or anywhere.  She loved stories.  Tell hers.

• Memories of Molly was published on Wednesday, September 6th, 2023.
• It was assigned to the Personal and Web categories.
• There have been forty-one replies.