in so many ways, i am behind the times. technology confounds my right brain and often makes me nervous. i was born into simpler times and to this day i am fond of the simple and the straightforward. like hand-held can openers and the rotary telephone. i feel safe in the 20th century.
but it is the 21st, and the singular household phone with 3-way party line and the no-hurry clicking sound of a number dialed with the eraser end of a pencil is long gone. (although it is hardly a problem to scare up the icons from my youth in my father's "relics-r-us" basement museum.) yes, i have a cell phone, the antiquated flip-open kind, and 3 phones at home that plug into the wall. finally, though, the outrageous fees to keep my little-used home phones active have prompted me to take a leap into this 11 year old new century. i ordered an upgraded cell phone.
it arrived yesterday. i felt nervous as a cat.
it took me hours to even open the box. more hours to call for activation and read the start guide with minuscule print. it's a slim rectangular thing, black, with exposed "qwerty" keyboard. (the touch screen model is too big a leap for this rotary-loving girl.) it has a camera and when i read that the tiny silver disc under the lens is a mirror for self portraits, i laughed out loud.
it's a no-contract phone. i bought the modest option for texting, 15 per day, never having sent a text in my life. with mid-life eyesight and an impossibly small keyboard, i stand no chance of joining the teenage ranks of those who walk through life with head facing down, fingers moving faster than a squirrel on crack.
and now, to terminate my land-line service. the thought of it makes me nauseous. my right brain feels unsafe. but i will do it. i will unplug myself from the 20th century and belatedly join the present times. don't expect a text from me anytime soon. or self portraits from shopping mall food courts. i'm still an old fashioned girl who is rarely camera-ready and enjoys looking up at the sky.
let's be honest. winter and its deep lathering of grey days is wearing us down. there are hours when the monochromatic landscape bites the edges of our hearts. we feel sad. agitated. exhausted. it feels like everything takes twice as much effort.
and it does.
we need sunshine and hope and enthusiasm, despite the contemplative nature of the season at hand.
we need to be that sunshine for each other.
if we can muster it, let's do our best to smile more and offer words of encouragement where ever we notice luster is lacking. let's let the people around us know we care. let's ask for help if we need it.
let's lift ourselves headlong into spring while snow is still on the ground.