In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Going Obsolete.”
Of all the technologies that have gone extinct in your lifetime, which one do you miss the most?
Initially, I struggled with this. Why would I miss cassette tapes that I had to rewind with a pencil, or a television without a remote, or a 7 lb boombox? The more I thought about it, I realized it’s not the technology I miss, but the time period it represented. It’s not even just the memories, but the way things just seemed slower and people seemed to have more time for one another.
There are the memories of standing in front of a television, physically removing my little brothers hand off the knob as he tried to change the channel to Creature Feature which I abhorred; the days of listening to the Top 40 so that I could record those favorite tunes; my aunt and uncle recording my little cousin’s voice and sending the tapes in the mail to my grandparents, and who could forget “film strips” in school?
I miss a landline telephone that emitted a busy signal when people were actually tied up. Imagine a world where the person you were speaking to and your conversation with them was actually important enough where interruption was denied. How many times in our current culture do you hear “hold on” a minute, at precisely the wrong time?
Then, there is the written word; from the notes sneakily passed in class to the newsy letters received from a pen pal, stamped from a foreign country (mine was from Sweden). As I looked through a table of books yesterday and my husband asked, “I thought you had a kindle, why do you need to buy those?”, I said, “I love these too.” I didn’t bother to explain that I love the feel and the smell and the sound of the pages turning because he wouldn’t understand. He isn’t a lover of reading. I don’t think books will ever become completely obsolete, but I fear the generations to come might not appreciate them as much as we do.
So, in closing, I miss those days, the slower ones, but at the same time I am grateful for some of the new inventions and discoveries. I’ve always lamented jokingly that I was born in the wrong generation. Maybe the older we get, we all think that? As we age, the memories accumulate and (hopefully) the wisdom and knowledge increase and we realize what’s really important.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In the Summertime.”
Summer only began on June 21, which was a week ago last Sunday. I was shocked when I saw someone say something about it being the first day of summer, as I thought we were already deep in the midst of it judging by the temperatures and humidity. But, I do live in South Florida, so it’s not like I am not fully aware of my lot every year after the winter-less winter and a day or two of Spring. This year though, the heat is really bothering me. So much so, that if I had the money, I would have a house somewhere up north and retreat there until at least October.
I remember a time when I lived for summer; my favorite place was on the beach; multi colored towel spread in the sand, radio blasting. Smelling like Hawaiian Tropic I baked in the sun damaging my young, tender, spot free, wrinkle free, skin. Ah, didn’t I just write a post about unheeded advice? These days, after several non-benign skin cancer removals, I’m not as likely to be found sunbathing.
When you are school age, summer is synonymous with “no-school” so of course it’s your favorite season. There is staying up late followed by sleeping in, vacation, summer camp, and many adventures with friends. Then you grow older and while your children are still in school, you have mixed emotions about summer. At first, it’s great and you are excitedly planning trips and activities. Your precious pumpkins will be home with you and you anticipate lots of quality time, family fun and long talks. Near the end of July however, you are counting down the days until you don’t have to hear “I’m bored” anymore. That lasts until they don their new school clothes and backpack and head up the walk the first day, and you turn into a puddle of tears because you know you will miss them.
At my age (we will call it the young grandmother age), with no one at home except myself and my love, I am free to pick a season as my favorite for other reasons. Mine, for as long as I can remember has been fall. I love all seasons and they signify different seasons of life and I thank my Creator for each and every one of them. Most of the time, I am content and can put on my Pollyanna hat and find all the goodness about summer. Today is not one of those days.
So, here I am, enjoying my beautiful, blossoming plants and green grass as I sit sweating in a lawn chair in the shade, swatting mosquitoes…..waiting for fall.
Good afternoon, friends. I would like your help with something. The following is an excerpt from what I hope might possibly become my first novel. Can you take a peek and share your thoughts, please? If you read below, would you want to read more? Susie’s bare feet sunk into the soft, cool mud, as […][Continue reading...]
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Celebrate Good Times.” You receive some wonderful, improbable, hoped-for good news. How do you celebrate? There are a few things that would fall in this category that I am currently praying and believing for. When I get the good news, the first thing I will do is […][Continue reading...]
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Take It From Me.” What’s the best piece of advice you’ve given someone that you failed to take yourself? Advice is a funny thing as most people aren’t really looking for advice when they ask your opinion, but instead for someone to agree with what they have already determined […][Continue reading...]
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Golden Hour.” The prompt asked, “6:00 AM: the best hour of the day, or too close to your 3:00 AM bedtime?” My alarm goes off at 5:30 am on the mornings that I haven’t already turned it off and began my day. Sometimes I grumble to myself […][Continue reading...]
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Smell You Later.” Humans have very strong scent memory. Tell us about a smell that transports you. In the late 70s, Cinnabar was a very popular scent and one of my mom’s favorites. It was strong, spicy scent, with a woodsy, cinnamon smell. It lingered. Thankfully, my […][Continue reading...]
Sometimes I feel it building up and if I don’t get it out, I will explode or maybe implode. I don’t know, but I do know it means I have to write. Today I am frustrated with people who say things flippantly and sometimes ignorantly, seemingly calloused to the impact their words may have on […][Continue reading...]
Originally posted on Long walks and dark chocolate:
I am just now submitting last week’s Weekly Writing Challenge, which said, in summary, “to explore what age means to you”. In a mere one year and seven months, I will be as old as the cassette tape. How old is that you ask? Well, that would be…