For the record, I do not know Robert Scoble. And he certainly does not know me. I'm just a guy, one of those guys, who reads his blog written from inside the halls of Microsoft.
What I do know about Scoble is that he's almost single-handedly helped make Microsoft an 'accessible' company for me. Laudible, but in the big picture of things its neigther here nor there.
What I do know about Scoble is that he's co-written a book on blogging (Naked Conversations) that had a profound impact on the way I began to weave blogging into a larger understanding about business, about partnerships, about collaborating on behalf of the client (and their community), about the impact of two-way conversation across infinite virtual sectors. Intriguing and intellectually compelling, but I have plenty of time down the road to come to better understand what Scoble (and Israel) have put into book form.
What I do know about Scoble is that his mother had a stroke. Just a few days ago. A stroke that clearly changed a life, a family of lives, a community of lives, and so much more in the process.
For many years to come...
And Scoble -- really, Robert (maybe even Rob to friends and family) -- has spent the last few days heading back home, learning about the intricacies and intangibles of strokes, sitting in his mother's house and talking with her friends & community, hearing the bad news that seems impossible to absorb, staring out the horizon-line-reaching windows of his mother's Montana home, reconnecting with a mother's story that he had lost close contact with, sitting with her hand in his own, appreciating the simple moments of recovery as his mother becomes more and more alert, discovering that a woman he didn't completely know these past few years had a community of friends and acquaintances that deeply believed in her presence and influence, being a son again.
Yes, being a son again.
Again, I do not know Robert. And he certainly does not know me. I'm just one of the many that reads his blog.
But I do have a mother that I love dearly -- who I just got off the phone with an hour ago -- and that no matter how much distance or life one finds between 'now' and childhood, there is nothing more powerful than the simple realization that stripped away of everything superficial, sometimes all that you can count on is a view out a window that puts you piece by piece back into the center of your own past again.
And that having your mother there with you puts everything else into perspective.
Wishing Robert well in his journey home. And certainly wishing his mother a graceful recovery as her body reclaims itself, and her family and extended Montana family weave the concentric circles a bit more closely together.
Mom, love ya!
And yes, it's your day, your day, your day!