In recognition of the first full year of existence of Joomla Chicago, and in tribute to our fearless leader, John Coonen, I herewith reproduce a recently discovered account of the beginnings of the group.

Friday night had come, and the fall air was clear and crisp, and brimming with life. Anybody with an ounce of sense was down on Rush Street getting the weekend off to a rousing start.

John Coonen sat at the desk in his den, his laptop open in front of him. He surveyed the blank screen, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. An entire website full of empty pages. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden.

John's wife, Linda, had said to him that day, "John, another week has gone by without you putting up that Joomla Chicago website you're always talking about! You know you'll be happier if you just go into that den and don't come out until you have a website to show for your efforts!" Now he was finally settling down to the task . . . .

Sighing, John started to type a few characters, clicked on "Apply," and refreshed the monitor to look at the revised page. He repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant half-line of text with he far-reaching chasm of blank web pages, and slumped back in his chair discouraged.

This will never do, John thought to himself. Even if I do get these web pages done, what about all the modules we need to install? And that doesn't even begin to get done all the things we need to have a really active user group . . . .

Nonetheless, he concluded he had no choice but to persevere. He continued plunking away at his laptop . . . .

. . .

It was approaching midnight, and John's friend Phil stopped by to tell him about the Cubs playoff tickets he had gotten. Linda showed him into den, where John was still hunched over his laptop.

John went on programming and paid no attention. Phil stared a moment and then said:

"Hi-yi! You're up a stump, aren't you?

No answer. John surveyed his most recent update with the eye of an artist, then he dropped in a few more tags and refreshed the screen. Phil ranged up alongside of him, and said:

"Hey, buddy, you gotta work, huh?"

John spun suddenly and said:

"Oh, hey Phil! I didn't even notice you were there!"

"Say-I'm headed to Wrigley tomorrow. I bet you wish you could go with me! But of course, you'd rather stay up all night and work, wouldn't you?

John contemplated, and then said:

"Whatta you call work?"

"Huh! Well, isn't that work I see you doin' there?"

John refreshed his screen and looked at it, and answered carelessly:

"Well, maybe it is . . . . All I know is, I kinda enjoy it."

"Oh come, now, you don't mean to say you like it?"

The cursor continued to move.

"Like it? Well, I don't see why I shouldn't like it? Does a guy get to design a website every day?"

That put the thing in a new light. Phil stood and watched while John typed a few more lines, a bit of code here and a line of text there -- leaned back to note the effect -- hit the backspace key a few times and refreshed -- criticized the effect again -- Phil watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said:

"Say, John, let me do a page or two."

John thought about it, and was about to consent; but he changed his mind:

"No -- no -- no, I don't think so, Phil. You see, Linda's awfully particular about this website -- live up on the Internet, and all --  if it was just an intranet, I wouldn't mind, and she wouldn't. Yeah, she's awful particular about this website; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there isn't one developer in a thousand, maybe two thousand that can do it the way it's go to be done."

"Really . . . ? Oh, c'mon -- lemme just try. Only just a little -- I'd let you, if you were me, John."

"Phil, I'd like to, honest to goodness; but Linda -- well, Mike wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Robert wanted to do it and she wouldn't let Robert. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you were to tackle this website and anything were to happen to it -- "

"Oh c'mon, I'll be just as careful. Let me try. Say -- I'll give you one of my Cubs tickets!"

"Well, o- . . . no, Phil, no, now don't. I'm afraid --"

"I'll give you both tickets!"

John gave up the keyboard with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart . . . .

. . .

John said to himself that it was not such a hollow world after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it -- he now comprehended that Work consists of whatever a person is obliged to do and that Play consists of whatever a person is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why being a celebrity chef or playing quarterback for the Bears is work, while running a marathon or writing code for a new operating system is only amusement. There are wealthy suburban moms who drive four-wheel-drive SUVs twenty or thirty miles delivering children to school and soccer practice on a daily basis, year in, year out, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign.

As Phil downloaded and installed some new modules, John mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in the circumstances of his brainchild, Joomla Chicago. Then, he slipped quietly out to the kitchen to report . . . . 

Joe Scarry is head project manager for Chicago Joomla web developer and web design firm Arc Technology Group.