Why I am here. December 7, 2009
I was a full blown resister. I was the head Luddite. I was not going to join all you lemmings running over the cliff in to the ocean of electronic communication.
I am pleased to note I have so much flexibility in my standards because I have worn out this laptop and am about to graduate to a regular keyboard and computer.
Sometimes change is possible. In my life it is inevitable.
I get emails from the most unlikely people, my across the street neighbor for one. She probably had a computer before I did. She stores her great photos on it. This neighbor who I will call Marian has taken to writing to me. Though I can look out my window and in to her front yard, I never thought I would have such a picture of her life. We always let each other know when one of us was travelling. She is a watchful neighbor. Once she followed a person who was doing some work at our house. Marian did not recognize the car, so they were tailed by my mild mannered retired neighbor for 15 miles before she let them go.
Now, I hear things about her former life as a nun. Marian gave this up a long time ago; she has been married and has a son. She tells me what makes her happy, how she handles family needs and what she does for others. One day I stopped in on her and found her crocheting an afghan from scraps a friend had given her from that friend’s mother’s stash. The mother is long gone, but the friend thought Marian could use the yarn. What that friend doesn’t know is that she has this gorgeous blanket coming to her from Marian as a result of my dear neighbor’s unceasing care for others. She doesn’t have to be a nun to do sacred work. It just is how she lives.
And I have learned to text. I got the text of a lifetime from my son after a particularly challenging passage. The little beepy thing rings on my phone and there is a text from him saying he was having the time of his life at school. “Thanks Mom”. I will text if that opens up another channel for my kid to connect with me, for sure.
It is not perfect. I still write snail mail letters, some typed on my computer. I am a major consumer of the United States Postal Service. I rely on mail, hand written letters, notices of events that I can tack up and unexpected packages sent from far away places. I have been part of a postal discourse of mail art for almost 3 years. You cannot do this on the computer. So, I continue to buy stamps and look in to my mail basket every single day. I get extra sad on days when I go to the mail basket and remember it is some obscure holiday when the mailmen get a day of rest.
It is all about collaboration, right? I write to you, you write to me. I will blog here and let you know what is on my plate, whether it is rice pudding or felt or a collage, I will let you know. And in this ocean of electronic activity, I will swim with the current. Let me know how it is for you. And send me something. I will be looking for you.