Geoff Duncan

It's not much of a secret, but way back when I first landed in the Seattle area I pulled a stint at the Evil Empire working on multimedia titles. (This was back in the days when CD-ROMs were the Next Big Thing.) At one point, space constraints had us jammed three to an office, and for a fun series of weeks my officemates were Paul Goade and Anita Rowland.

Anita Rowland

I just learned Anita died yesterday. She was 51.

I wish I could say I'd known Anita better. We shared plenty of laughs while working unconscionable numbers of hours within about a yard of each other, and she was simply a delight: smart, funny, well-read, and observant in the way I still wish I could be. We talked a bunch about music—at the time, I think she was working on a CD-ROM about Stravinsky or Schubert.

After I took my leave of That Company, Anita and I only crossed paths in person a handful of times—one when I was sitting in with a dance band during the 1990's "swing revival" and Anita turned up at the gig. To my amazement, she was getting into Lindy hop! We would encounter each other online more frequently, and always seemed to be able to pick up where we left off. I had a habit of calling her "Annie Tar" because of the anitar username she wound up with on one of Seattle's (actually, one of the world's) first ISPs. I remember talking her through a SLIP upgrade, and then getting a delighted message from her when she got on the Internet "for real" with a PPP account.

Anita was also tied into the genre fiction community, knowing pretty much everybody there was to know in the Seattle area. Anita turned me on to things like Potlatch and the Cacophony Society (you may already be a member!), and was even responsible for the renowned Clarion Writer's Workshop running ads in InterText, an early online fiction magazine I helped produce with Jason Snell, now chief bottle washer over at Macworld. During the time Anita, Paul, and I were crammed in an office I remember bumming a ride over to Crossroads Mall at lunchtime so I could pick up an issue of Asimov's that mentioned InterText—Anita was politely amused by my youthful enthusiasm.

Before it was cool, Anita helped pioneer the idea of Web logs. ("Blogging" was not yet a word.) Anita's Book of Days served as an unabashed, imperterbable journal of her life. She also organized the Seattle Webloggers Meetup; everyone I know who attended has always said they were a blast, and I wish I hadn't let my general incomprehension of blog culture keep me away.

Anita had been battling ovarian cancer for several years, driving it into remission for a time until it re-emerged in (I believe) 2005. Her journal offered a dispassionate account of her treatments, as well as her joys with her husband Jack Bell and her grandson. I was amazed how much Anita continued to enjoy life, and how her generosity of spirit was absolutely unabated.

I wish I'd heard from Anita more frequently, but each occasion brought a smile. She'll be missed.