Last weekend I met 2 of my sisters in Huntsville, Alabama to divide up the last of my parents’ belongings: their books, Christmas items, and a few housewares. My parents had a lot of books, since they were big readers themselves and also had inherited a bunch. I got some treasures: my great-great grandmother’s leather hymnal that is so tiny she must have worn it tucked in her glove; my parents’ guestbook; and a bunch of Faulkner books from my aunt, Peggy, with her notes in the margin. Peggy knew Faulkner well and was even, at one time, supposed to write his authorized biography, but, instead, she spent her days in St. Elizabeth’s mental hospital in Washington, DC and then in the state hospital in Mississippi. He described her one time as a girl at a party, waiting for someone to come ask her to dance.
We got through the process, staying up late, and ended up with about 10 boxes each, with the remaining 200 to be sold. But it was hard. It was harder, in a way, than dividing up the furniture–because the books were such a critical part of who my parents were. (One of my fondest memories is of Daddy reading out loud to Mama in bed at night.) It was hard seeing those books scattered into the 4 winds. It was even harder seeing the house start to empty out of any evidence of their lives. And we were on such a tight schedule that we didn’t really have much time to talk much about the experience—or, for that matter, about our parents—with each other. We had to keep going, dividing up stuff, getting through. One redeeming factor was that we also had fun together and couldn’t help but feel our parents’ presence in the room .
I don’t know about you, but I feel overwhelmed a lot of the time these days. Could it be menopause? Could it be that the planet Uranus is right on top of my Sun? Could it be that there are just too many ways to communicate, and most of the time they don’t work, or no one gets back no matter how I try or which of the wonderfully advanced methods of “staying connected” I use?
Or that my brain is too full, trying to remember who only gets email at their home address, or who only answers text messages, or who doesn’t get cell phone coverage on their iPhone to even get their emails or messages? Or even, who doesn’t respond to anything any more! It’s funny, in this age where the whole hype of social media, and how to be connected is all that people talk about–as if it’s a game to see who has the “latest” gadget–I am becoming more and more disinterested in staying in touch with “friends”.
The truth is, FaceBook was ok when I had a hundred or so friends, but now that I have almost 300, I cannot keep up with what is happening with them all. And frankly, I don’t even care.
I don’t think I will be getting a smart phone any time soon. I really don’t want to take pictures with my phone: I have a really good digital camera that works fine. And I don’t want to type emails to anyone with that ridiculously small keypad. I have a computer with a keyboard the size that I have been typing my whole life on and feel comfortable with. Why change if I am fine with what I have? And why would I want to send and receive text messages? If I want to chat with someone, I can email, pick up the phone, or if I really want to take a little vacation from my day, I can actually sitdown and write a letter or send one of the many beautiful cards I have collected over the years, or even one of my own hand-painted cards.
Here is a little clip for those that dare see where we are going, or should I say, where some people are going – because I may just stay where I am, with the technology that I have.
P.S. Oh, if you feel like it, I would really like to know where YOU are with all that is available to us and costs a small fortune, I might add! Are you trying to keep up? Have you decided that you are ok with just a computer and a cell phone too?
Every day, a male co-worker walks up very close to a woman at the coffee
machine, inhales a big breath of air, and tells her that her hair
smells nice.
After a week of this, she can’t stand it anymore, takes her complaint
to a supervisor in the Human Resources department and asks to file a sexual harassment grievance against him.
The Human Resources supervisor is puzzled and asks, ”What’s sexually
threatening about a co-worker telling you that your hair smells nice?”
Please see the message below and pass this on to friends or click on where it says, “Help us stand up for Haiti Now” in order to go directly to a site where you can make a donation. This letter comes from my best friend Guitele. She is Haitian-born, educated and raised in the U.S. We met when we were students in Paris and have been friends ever since. I have visited Haiti with her and met her family. Luckily, all her family there is safe. Here is what she says:
“Partners in Health is an organization with which I worked for over 12 years and am on the board of advisors. I can vouch for their effectiveness, efficiency, honesty, and integrity. Paul Farmer, the founder, is the UN deputy envoy to Haiti, second to Bill Clinton. Your support will be well spent and organized. They have provided top notch medical care to the very poor in Haiti and know and understand the needs of the population. In addition, they are in a unique position to support the organization of a coherent response to this crisis. Please give generously. Thank you.”
Guitele
I don’t know about you, but I feel overwhelmed a lot of the time these days. Could it be menopause? Could it be that the planet Uranus is right on top of my Sun? Could it be that there are just too many ways to communicate, and most of the time they don’t work, or no one gets back no matter how I try or which of the wonderfully advanced methods of “staying connected” I use?
