In my opinion

I follow a few other blogs and enjoy reading their insights and observations. Their blogs are much more popular than mine. I guess they are a bit more interesting to a broader based community. Occasionally one will write or mention something that I totally get. That happened this morning and is the impetus for this entry.
She mentioned how some had accused her of lying or perhaps fabricating some of her stories. I'm sure this hurt as I have experienced the same reaction. I can empathize completely.
Each of us speak or write about our own truths. They may or may not agree with your own concept of the truth. Neither of us are wrong. Unfortunately there are no absolutes in this world. But that is also what makes life interesting. I can only write from my own unique perspective. No one sees the world the way I do. I can't see the world the way you do either.
I do wonder why one would leave such a comment. What is it's purpose? What is the gain ? Those sort of comments are not constructive. I may feel compelled to point out a different view but to call someone a liar or a cheat ? Someone you have probably never met and know little about. Curious behavior. Falls into the same category as those that prank or harm without even knowing their victims. I mean,what is the point if I don't get to see the prank ? What fun is that ?
I've been accused of being opinionated. Guilty. I have been accused of being argumentative. Guilty. I will argue any point with anyone if they are so inclined. That goes along with the opinionated part. I will try to convince you to see it my way. One should speak or write with conviction. Anything less than that is a waste of time.
I have heard it said that a tall tree catches the most wind. That is a simple truth. The trick is to be able to bend to that wind. It is a difficult thing to bend to it without snapping back. I know for me, I want to snap ! I try to refrain from that reaction as much as possible. It is easier to do in writing than in real time. I find it easier to stay supple if one exercises. That goes for the mind as well as the body. Those that would leave negative and mean spirited comments have allowed themselves to become dry and brittle.

A bad cycle

Spending a few hours on the midway at the Delaware State fair was an interesting time. Beyond watching the kids having fun and listening to the barkers, one guy was exceptional, looking at fashions and avoiding bumping into others just not paying attention, one thing became quite noticeable to me. The prevalence of tattoos. Not small tattoos but the rather large ones. Body art they call it. I saw it on  men and women. Young and old. I'm not against it but question the wisdom of having such a large area covered. Especially those that climb the neck or cover the hands. Not easily concealed. I suppose it is just my age showing again. In years to come this form of personal expression will barely be noticed. Like the hippies of the 60's the long hair and peace signs became blase. Sometimes even a source of amusement.
I hear that these tattoos are not nearly as permanent as they once were. New technology can remove them. So they are not reversible. The cost is considerable. The initial cost is also considerable. Well there are those that always seem to find the money for such things. Same as beer and cigarettes. People want them, people find a means to buy them. Another thing that struck me about this art was how young some of the people sporting it seemed to be. I don't know if there is an age requirement or not. I expect with parents permission one could get one. Again, maybe it is just my own age, but some of them looked awful young for so permanent a decision.
Not one to get out out in the crowd much this came as a bit of a surprise. The fashions that the younger people wear don't surprise me much. The fact that their fathers would allow those young girls to go out in public with some of those outfits is beyond my comprehension, but that is another matter altogether.  Modesty is definitely not in style. And I will add this comment, many exhibit a healthy self confidence given their choice of clothing and body type. More power to them !  Attitude is everything and I'm pleased to see they have a good one.
Everything goes in cycles. I'm hoping the cycle will swing back to the modest and demure. I have a nine year old grand daughter and the fashions are not appropriate to my idea of what young ladies should be wearing. Just where is Doris Day when you need her ? No tattoos or bustiers there ! Heels perhaps,but not too high, and skirts at least knee length. Imagination is much more appealing than reality. All in all this young crowd looks a little on the trashy side if you ask my opinion. Body art will age along with the canvas. It will crack and fade. Just sayin'.

Flashback

I was looking at an old photograph today. It one taken about 1955 or so. My sister gave it to me as a gift and it hangs in my hallway. Taken at Christmas it is my two brothers, my sister and myself standing all in a line. We are arranged in height order and all wearing those pajamas with the feet in and a " trapdoor ". I have probably looked at that picture a thousand times or more. It always was a perennial favorite. But for some reason I took a closer look today. I noticed the carpet on the floor. Instantly I could feel it beneath my feet,feel it's texture. That carpet was so familiar to me. I must have crawled around it for hours as a child. I could smell it and taste it. In my minds' eye I could see the threads used to weave it. What a strange sensation. An old carpet.
Isn't it amazing how a picture has that power ? Or rather that the mind has that power. Years ago I read that book Dianetics (sp) by L.Ron Hubbard. His contention was that you remembered everything from conception to your death. He thought with training you could tap into that. I didn't buy that then and don't buy that now. I admit it was an interesting read but nothing more than an amusement to me. He is the founder of Scientology. You can infer what you like about my feelings for that religion.
At any rate I found that experience to be both puzzling and pleasant. It is not the first time it has happened. Sometimes just holding an object can have the same effect. Must be embedded in your memory bank somewhere. Does it hold significance ? I don't think so. It just is. Ever had the same thing happen to you ?

An Old Soul

We  have all heard someone say, " he was a good old soul " or something similar. It's just an expression. Maybe; it is not. We are all familiar with the concept of going to heaven. We know it is not our physical body that makes that journey. Indeed, it is our soul. It is our very soul that must pass the test. The question that comes to my mind is, is each one one of us given a " new " soul or do we inherit one that was less than perfect ? One that failed the test ? And then it becomes incumbent upon us to remove the imperfections ? A sort of cosmic do-over ? That could explain deja vu.
I don't believe my God would give me anything that was less than perfect. And isn't the premise that the new born is without sin ? Certainly that must be the case. So the soul I " inherit " is perfect in it's gift from God, just being recycled. God going green so to speak. I do not begin with any sort of handicap. I do think one can become aware of the soul's past. Call it what you will. Many cultures have tried to describe it. Many theories and explanations. I make no attempt to explain or justify, just to present my own thoughts on the subject.
I have come to believe mine is an old soul. A soul that has been reused many times. A soul that has failed to pass the final exam. All those failures have taken place in the past. I had nothing to do with all that. It has given me an awareness, however. It is my responsibility to attempt to complete the journey. I've been given a shot. And isn't that the beauty of our God ? Giving us the chance. And then leaving the choice to us ? Oh, he provides all the help and guidance you can ask for, but doesn't force it. We are free to ignore his presence altogether. And the penalty ? That is much more difficult to understand.
The ultimate reward is obvious. To exist in his presence. To stand before your God in righteousness. To have pleased him. To have the soul remain eternal in its' final journey. Resting forever in heaven on the right hand side of the lord. The ultimate comfort.
Now as to the penalty phase. Do you really go to hell ? I don't think so. I think your soul is just recycled and you are forgotten. As if you never existed. And the truth is, you never did. For nothing can exist in the eyes of the lord that is less than perfect. You got your shot. Should you fail to take advantage of it, it is your choice. The penalty is that choice. God does not punish you, you punish yourself. The final accountability. I'm sure hoping the balance sheet is correct on the day of judgement. I have determined I need to add a few more pluses. Don't we all ? This old soul is getting weary. It is up to me to give it a rest. I'm going to try. 

Only Memories

We had been out for a day of fishing. Out in Gardiners bay. The old wooden boat creaked and groaned with every wave. Down in the cabin you could smell oil and salt. A little dark with just beams of light coming through the port holes. She was an old vessel even then. But she was tight and seaworthy. The " head " was located in the bow. No more than an outhouse really. When you had done your business throw it clear of the fantail. No amenities here. This was no yacht but to me it was like a cruise ship. We even had a transistor radio hanging from a piece of string. It swayed with the motion of the boat. The sounds of country music blaring over the engine noise.
Dad was the captain of this ship. I was just about ten or twelve years old at the time. He was an impressive sight at the helm. Throwing out those nautical terms. Bring her about and off the port bow. I remember him saying, better keep a weather eye out, as it looked a little threatening over on the horizon. I didn't know I had a weather eye, but kept it out anyway. We had caught a few fish. A few blues and a mess of bottlefish. Mom had packed some sandwiches and coca cola. All in all it was a pleasant day on the bay. My weather eye saw dark clouds racing across the sky and the bay began to churn just a bit. Dad says we better head in, looks like some weather coming in.
And so the anchor was lifted and we were underway. In order to reach the safety of the harbor you have to traverse the breakwater. The breakwater is a narrow channel lined on either side by rocks. Those big blue/black colored ones. The tide runs through there fairly strong. The old girl was chugging along at full throttle. The bow rising and falling in the troughs. She seemed almost anxious to reach that breakwater. And the waves grew stronger. As she rocked and rolled a little bit my oldest brother thought it would be fun to ride atop the wheel house. So, up he went. Now there are handrails that run along the edges of that wheel house. He laid down and grabbed onto those handrails. He had to stretch his arms out to full length to get a grip. His legs spread wide to avoid rolling. He lay there laughing. Before long the squall, as Dad called it, picked up in intensity. The boat rocked more violently. Bringing her about Dad headed into the breakwater. The tide was running hard and the passage was a churning cauldron of white water. My sister and I reached for the life jackets. Mom went into the cabin. My brother was stuck on the top of the wheel house. No way could he safely climb back down from that perch. There was nothing for him to do but hunker down and hold on.
The passage through the breakwater seemed like a trip around the world. It took that long. When we reached the safety of the harbor the waters calmed down. The clouds cleared out and the waters smoothed. My brother climbed down from his roost. Dad was standing there smiling. Looks like you left your hand prints in the woodwork. We made many a voyage on that old boat. No pictures remain of her, only memories.

Thoughts on War

I was thinking that if the minimum age for being in the military was like,forty, we would have a lot less wars.
And not because we would be too old to wage war, but because we would have better sense! War is a young mans' occupation usually lead by a bunch of old fools.
This came to mind as I was preparing to return a war relic to its' homeland. It brought to mind the insanity of war. I know, I've been in a few. Fortunate to never have endured ground based combat or a world war. But I have seen the consequences of conflict. The damage not only to the physical but to the mental well being of the world.
What we fail to realize is that for the most part the combatants are just young men. Some still in their teens. Young men are known to do strange things. Whether in an attempt to fit in or an attempt to retain their sanity. Deeds or misdeeds. Choices made, some not so wise.
History will judge the wisdom of wars. We tend to glorify them, if we are the victors. But as Americans we have never known anything else. I wonder what those defeated would have to say about it ? How do you lose a war with dignity ? How do you justify that choice ? These questions and more entered my thoughts.
In my own youth I was willing to engage in this activity. I wasn't anxious to participate, but I was willing. I felt a sense of duty, the obligation to do my part. And I did in a limited fashion. My contribution to the effort wasn't nearly as extensive as some. The price I paid was small.
Today,as I sit at this keyboard I would not be as anxious. Considerably more thought and consideration would go into that decision. It would not be a forgone conclusion. Still, if the situation warranted, I would go and stand beside my countrymen. The obligation remains and can never be completely satisfied. 

Closing the Chapter

I was motivated to act upon a thought I've had for some time. A fellow blogger is responsible. Thank you Kathleen. She had become the recipient of a unexpected kindness. A kindness from a total stranger and one that required a bit of effort to complete. It was her telling of this kindness that moved me.
You see, back in 1990 following the passing of my father, some of his belongings came into my possession. He had served in the war (ww2) and I have his medals and a few other mementos he brought home from that conflict. There among these articles is small folded booklet. This booklet is covered with Japanese writings and some figures. I was told it was a Japanese soldiers pay record. How or why my father came into possession of it is lost to time. That it was recovered from a fallen soldier is a good guess. Young men in war tend to do such things. Acts of bravado and the removal of articles from the deceased enemy. A means of maintaining your sanity in an insane situation. This scrap of paper holds no meaning for me. It had been in my mind to attempt to return it to a family member. I wasn't sure how I could do this. After all, I don't read or write Japanese and know no one that does. The thought has languished all this time. Now, I've been moved to action.
Using the resources of the internet I found a E-mail address for the Japanese American society. I had previously scanned this document and so included that with the mail. Literally within hours I received a response. I was provided with the address of the Consulate General of Japan. Instructions were included. I can mail this artifact to them. It will then be sent,by diplomatic pouch, to Tokyo. There they have an office that will work to locate any surviving family members. If successful,the artifact will be returned to them.
I will receive notification as to the results. I have been warned that this could take a considerable amount of time. Maybe as long as a year. I have already been told that this artifact was apparently the possession of a Mr. Fukuoka. That's an encouraging start.
It is my hope that his family may come to have this. It is my hope that they find some comfort in its' possession. Having an active interest in the past and my own family tree I can imagine what I would feel. What is nothing more than an insignificant old booklet to me may prove to be a treasured heirloom to another. The personal nature of it could have an impact. I know I would feel that way holding something that I know, without a doubt, that my father or grandfather carried with him into war. A war that perhaps he never returned from.
I know nothing about the details. My father was a flight engineer on B-24 bombers. He was not actively engaged in ground based combat. He was stationed at one time in China-Burma theater of operations. Perhaps this record came from a prisoner of war. Perhaps this man lives still. It's possible but unlikely.
I'm hoping for some answers but will be content with it's return. I think Dad would have returned it,too.
To close a chapter in the book. It wasn't a chapter Dad talked much about. It left an indelible impression on him. Even as a child I could tell that on the few occasions he did say anything. In his day you didn't talk about such things. You kept those thoughts and nightmares to yourself. This booklet has lain silent for nearly seventy years. It has a tale to tell. I can only hope the recipient is listening.

Old Things

For the past few days pictures of older objects have been appearing on Facebook. The caption reading" like " if you know who or what the picture depicts. So far my score would be 100%. Guess that is telling something about my age. What bothers me more about that is I find myself asking the question, " who wouldn't know what that was or who that person is ? " The questions are too easy. Or I'm just that dang old ! Whatever the case I do enjoy them. Some I haven't seen in years.
The other day I was telling my sister in law how to dial a cell phone. Then it struck me. Just how long had it been since I actually dialed a phone ? Been a good while. Touch tone phones were introduced in 1966. So why do we say, dial the phone ? I wonder if that is what the kids say today ? I've been listening for that but haven't reached a conclusion. I've asked a few younger people and one had used a dial phone,once. I can only surmise it is the same reason we say Kleenex when we mean tissue. What else would we say ? Enter the necessary digits ? Input numerical values corresponding to the party requested ? Import from contacts ?
I don't know. I'm certain I'll always say, dial the number.
We all enjoy nostalgia. I think that is because we feel like we have knowledge that others may not. The upper hand so to speak. That and the familiarity. Makes me feel comfortable anyway. The things of the past.
As we age it is also easier to remember the things of the past than to learn the things of the future. All this new fangled stuff. The old things worked just fine. Why things in my day were built to last. How many times have you heard that ? How many of those things are still here and in use ? LOL
It is a little sad and disheartening to see some of these objects and personalities. Most of the objects could only be found in museums and antique stores now. The personalities have mostly left this earth. Time and places in the distant past. Memories dredged up. Not all was rosy back in the day. We may laugh about some of the things and with others we are amazed. Our social conscience has changed over the years. What was acceptable and humorous then, may be offensive today.
One day phones as we know them will also be a thing of the past. And probably not that far into the future either. When was the last time you saw a phone booth ? They are still around but not many. Do you have a phone on your kitchen wall ? A tabletop phone perhaps ? Call me. I'll answer or at least my machine will or is it a digital recorder ? Voice mail ? We used to call that talking.

A little selfish

I woke up this morning thinking about my grandson. We all miss him while he is away attending the conference. Opening my Facebook page I checked the notifications. My daughter in law left a comment, this made me think of you. So naturally, I clicked it open. It was one of those little sayings in a box. You know the ones, and it said," Grandchildren are a Grandparents link to the future, Grandparents are the child's link to the past. " No author listed. I must say that statement is absolutely correct. It is one I definitely will remember.
I am always talking about the past. I'm always showing the Grandkids pictures of their ancestors. I do talk about having the kids remember me. All those things are tied up in that simple little statement. Ah, the beauty in brevity. I unfortunately do not have that gift. I tend to be a bit long winded. If you talk long enough someone is bound to listen ! I do come from a culture of talkers. My family is not known for being quiet on any subject.
My wife and I are indeed blessed to have such a close relationship with the grandkids. In the world today that relationship is getting to be less prevalent. Many times your children move away from the old hometown. Time and distance separate. Daycare taking the place of Grandma. Connections and links becoming weaker.   It is a different relationship between Grandparents and Grandchildren than between Parents and children. It is a relationship I have given much thought too. I sometimes marvel at where I got the patience with the Grandkids that I didn't have with my own. Have I matured, or did they just wear me down ? Difficult to say. I find myself a bit more protective with the grandkids. I also find myself a bit more forgiving of their shortfalls. Not that they have any you understand ? LOL But if they did. And so I take seriously my obligation to inform them of the past. To give them the insight and lessons I have learned in my life. To pass the torch of learning. Hopefully it will make their own journey a little easier. And isn't that what all parents and grandparents want for their children ? I do believe in the old saying you have to know where you have been, to know where you are going.
And just yesterday I was writing about reasons. And to wake up and have this message appear on my screen. Serendipity ! That is the underlying reason for all my stories and pictures. The Grandchildren are my link to the future. Selfish,yes, but an honest emotion. I do hope they benefit from it all however. 

The Reasons Why

When I first stated writing down these random thoughts and memories my thought was to record my life stories for future generations. To leave a written record. I felt then and still do that the written word is important. It is my hope that future generations of Reicharts will read these ramblings with some interest and possibly amusement. Whatever the case, I hope they are at least preserved. I want to leave something permanent,as I think, we all do. As to the value of their shared wisdom and insight that will be left to the future to decide. Certain wisdom is timeless and other wisdom is transient. Dependent on time and circumstance. Social conscience and accepted behaviors. And now, lo, these 695 posts later, I have reached another conclusion. A part of these writings is to explain the reasons why. It is not enough to know what a person has said or done, but knowing the reason why. It is the reasoning behind the choices that make the story interesting. In that lies the difficulty. To lay bare ones thoughts is not an easy task. Open yourself up to vulnerability. To explain the reason for your choices but not to rationalize them. Blatant honesty is often not a pretty thing or an interesting tale. Mostly it is quite difficult. I often approach from a oblique angle. Diversion with humor is also a good tactic.
So now my writings will continue on a different tact. I will attempt to refrain from rambling about politics and current events. I wonder how relevant those subjects will be in the future. I'm thinking I will now try to include some of the reasoning and thought behind my stories and observations. I wouldn't be surprised to learn things about myself. I do have to write within certain constraints though. I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone, or myself for that matter. So while my thoughts are honest, how much can I honestly convey in this forum ? An interesting dilemma. Time will tell.
I have thought it would be really something if I could record my innermost thoughts with complete certainty that no one would read them until after my passing. But not by any generation that actually knew me in person. Protecting the innocent so to speak. I don't think that is possible or practical. And the big question remains, would anyone care enough to read them ? And if they did read them would they hold any meaning other than a casual interest ? A sort of voyeur to the past.
I'd like to think my writings could be used as a guide. A sort of users manual for life. Having a problem ? Refer to blog number so and so. Need some independent advice ? Perhaps some practical guidance like don't store chicks and clams in the same area.  { see blog Chickens and Clams dated 8-18-11 }. At least that's how I see it. And I will conclude by saying, the reason I write these blogs has little to do with anyone else, but everything to do with me. Call it ego or narcissism but I think I just may write something important if I write enough. You have to go through a lot of oysters to find one pearl you know ! 

Making Connections

My grandson Mark goes off to Washington,D.C. today for his leadership conference. He is understandably a bit nervous. He will be there for a week,on his own basically, in a strange land. He doesn't know anyone else that is attending. Going into the situation blind as it where. That is a big step for a eleven year old. It brings to mind when I joined the Navy. At least I had a friend with me. We spent some time together before being separated. Mark will not have the benefit of that at all. His only comfort is that he will have a cell phone with him. A sort of lifeline. But having a phone and the ability to call can be a two edged sword. Speaking with loved ones while in this situation can increase the loneliness and anxiety as quickly as it can relieve it. I can recall that first conversation with my own folks after being in basic training for a few weeks. It was a relief and a burden. Each person reacting differently. Some even cried.
Now Mark is an amicable young man and intelligent. The other attendees are likely in the same category, as you must be invited to this conference. The invitation is decided by the teachers based upon the students academic achievements and leadership potential. Mark was one of two selected from Greensboro elementary. To the best of our knowledge the other student has declined to attend. So it up to Mark to represent. He will make us all proud of that I am certain.
From my experiences in the service I can speak about certain things. One of the first questions you will be asked when meeting people is where are you from ? If your geographic location is even remotely close to theirs a bond is formed. State,county or town makes no difference. It has been my experience each and every time. Birds of a feather. As time goes on this becomes less important. Eventually bonds and friendships are formed based more on personalities and moral values. The other attendees will be coming from all over the country. Most will probably be alone. That is the first common bond this group will share. And much like basic training they will have a busy schedule. It is part of the plan. Keep them occupied. Afford little time for getting lonely and afraid. Mark will do fine as he does make interesting conversation and can talk about a broad variety of subjects.
I'm grateful that he can attend. I'm proud that he was selected. I know this will be a major growth experience for him. Although he is not aware of that. Funny how,we,as participants in our own lives are often so unaware of the milestone moments. Naturally I want nothing but the best for him and for him to grow and mature. I'm not so sure I want it to happen this quickly.

On Birthdays

Fifty nine years ago today I entered this world. I don't remember it, but I was there. Just a baby born to Three Mile Harbor. I have two brothers and a sister. Mom and Dad. The typical American family of the fifties. No daycare just Moms' care. Discipline was maintained by threats of violence and the withholding of privileges. And we were taught that you got what you earned and anything else was a gift. Mine was a wonderful childhood with no regrets. Family and town. My town I have been known to describe by saying, " it is just a little south of heaven." When I turned eighteen I left that place to join the Navy and see the rest of the world. Well, been there and done that. Twenty years worth and wound up in Greensboro. Nice little town much like that home I was born into. Now I've been here longer than my original hometown and longer than my Navy days. Amazing how much you can do in fifty nine years. Amazing too, how much I didn't do.
And so today I celebrate another birthday. Another year of existence. When we were children we would celebrate by receiving presents. Cards and parties. A big cake with candles marking the passage of time. Now I celebrate my birthday with a different outlook. I celebrate the fact that I have gotten to spend another year surrounded by those that love me. Not taking the next year for granted anymore. The drama and turmoil of life is not worth the effort and the older you get the more you realize that. Birthdays should be for looking back. That is where the real gifts are stored. That is not to say one shouldn't look forward as well, there is much promise in the future. I'm just saying it has taken me fifty nine years to get to this point and I'm not turning back now ! LOL 

Summer,Camp and Underwear

Midsummer and all in full swing. The grand kids have already been to church camp. They have been to the ocean. A summer ritual on the eastern shore of Maryland. It is an hour or more drive from here. Vacation Bible school is complete. And the back to school specials are in the stores. Mark leaves for Washington D.C. this Saturday and stays for a week. He will be attending the Young Leaders Conference.
The weather has been warm and we could use a bit more rain but things are growing anyway. Fresh corn from the fields and tomatoes from the garden. Summer is for growing. Gotta make hay while the sun is shining is the saying. And let me tell you the kids are growing too ! They both have grown so much since school got out. This became evident when Mark returned from Jr. high camp this year. It was his first year attending this camp and it was quite a bit different from the kids camp. He had a schedule to follow and was pretty much responsible for his own actions. No counselors twenty four seven, although adult supervision was always close by. He has returned to us, aged. Matured is probably the better choice of words. How quickly that happened.
Talking with him after camp I heard of all the things they did. Games and activities. They listened to worship bands every day. They studied their Bibles and learned verses. Attendees were saved and some baptized. All of this had a positive impact on Mark. He is a serious young man with a quick wit and a sharp mind. All of this is more than just a fun time for him and he gains from the experience.  I thought it  was this experience that had matured him so. Then he told me another story from camp.
He and Grandma had packed his suitcase for camp. All items had been inventoried and double checked. On the first night when he was ready to shower Mark says he couldn't find clean underwear. And the conversation went something like this;
Grandma, I packed five pair
Mark, I couldn't find them
Grandma, Well they are in there somewhere
Mark, I don't know where
Grandma, what did you do all week
Mark, I took them in the shower with me and washed them every night
Grandma, You did ? And how did you dry them ?
Mark, I just wrung them out real good !

And so that is where the growth really came from. When a man has to wash his own underwear that is constructive growth. Mark is a much calmer kid now, a little subdued and more thoughtful. I can see where that could happen. Taking on the mantle of responsibility. Summer and camp, a time for growing. 

I'm Back

Due to technical difficulties I have been sans internet for an extended period of time. I was suffering from blogger withdrawal. I had no lack of thoughts to share, as I am seldom without words, but no effective way to share them. It was during this time I realized just how quickly one can become addicted or form a habit. My mornings where in a turmoil. What to do ? I stared at a blank screen. I stared at old photos on the screen. I reviewed documents in the documents folder. Eventually I resorted to playing an old game I had installed several years ago. A computer without access to the information superhighway is a dead end ! Boring. There is no doubt the modern laptop is an engineering marvel. A mysterious array of chips and printed circuits capable of tremendous feats of calculations but virtually useless without a connection to the outside world.
So with a great sigh of relief I got reconnected today. So much to catch up on. Blogs to read and blogs to write. A few games to catch up with. Words with friends is quite addicting. What has transpired in cyberspace since my absence ? The world of Facebook awaits. It is good to be back !
One thing came to the forefront during this time. I received a gift of some old photographs from a dear family friend. These were mailed to me. Although this lady is on Facebook I decided I would write her a letter in thanks. Being an older lady I was sure she would appreciate the gesture. It was then I realized I had no stationary. No problem, I'll pick some up the next time I am out. Turns out stationary isn't that easy to find. In fact I got this connection back and still haven't located any stationary. I will admit to not doing an extensive search for it. I sure wish Greensboro had a stationary store.
I mentioned this dilemma while at work. My co workers are mostly younger folks. Several didn't know what stationary was without some prodding. A few thought their Mom or Grandmother probably had some. I told them of stationary stores and they wanted to know what they sold there. I compared them to Staples. They understood that alright. It was at a stationary store, James Marley's to be exact, that I purchased my first pocket calculator. A computer. Would Marley's be selling laptops and such now ? I guess so. I remember thinking felt tip pens were pretty cool things. I asked about fountain pens too but they had no knowledge of them at all. I wonder do they still teach letter writing in school ? English wasn't my best subject but I seem to recall that class.
I guess it just another thing of the past. I haven't had the need for any stationary in all these years. Most times I just jot a note inside a greeting card of fold up a piece of printer paper. Progress ? But how uncivilized ! I'll be on the lookout for some stationary just in case the need arises again.