Webby

I was thinking today about how lucky I’ve been.

Not because I was there for some grand historical event, but because I happened to be around when the internet was becoming part of ordinary life.

I remember waiting for a Gmail account. Twenty-one days, as it happens. Twenty-one days! Today that sounds ridiculous. You decide you want an email account, and five minutes later you’re checking your inbox. Back then, getting a Gmail address felt like being admitted to a secret club.

Part of my eagerness to get a Gmail account had nothing to do with storage space or Google’s reputation. I wanted the address “webby”. Unfortunately, Google had decided that usernames had to be at least six characters long. Webby was only five.

I remember the disappointment. After waiting twenty-one days for an account, I discovered that the name I’d wanted all along wasn’t even allowed.

Looking back, it’s funny. More than twenty years later, I finally got my Webby after all—just not as a Gmail address.

I remember sitting with friends on FriendFeed, counting down to the release of Google Chrome. One of them, a Swede, was at work. When I told him there was only an hour left, he replied: “OMG, I must go home now!”

A browser release. Imagine leaving work early for a browser release.

But Google was still “cool” then, and the web still felt young. We were curious about everything. We didn’t know what was coming next, only that something always seemed to be.

Looking back, I don’t think those days were necessarily better than today. The internet is infinitely more useful now. I can sit in here, in the Maritimes, and have a video call with Sweden, build a website on an Icelandic domain, learn French with an owl, and look up almost anything in seconds.

What I’m grateful for is having seen both worlds.

I remember occupied phone lines, noisy modems, and waiting. Waiting for connections, waiting for downloads, waiting for invitations. Because I remember all that, I never quite lose my appreciation for what we have now.

Perhaps that’s the real gift of having lived through a period of change. You don’t take the present for granted quite so easily.

And every now and then, when I hear the Hamster Dance tune in my head, I’m reminded of a time when the internet was new, strange, exciting, and full of possibility.

I’m very glad I was there.