In the nick of time

Have you ever started one thing and then gotten so engrossed in something else you forgot the first? Usually that’s okay. But, when the first thing is hardboiling eggs, it’s not. I’ll admit I’ve lost two pans over four decades and am lucky that’s all I lost. I now set a timer, not the one on the stove or microwave, but one I can put in my pocket. Turn on the burner, set the timer, put the timer in my pocket, walk away. Of course I am then startled when the timer goes off. If often takes a couple of seconds before the word ‘eggs’ takes me back to what I’d started 20 minutes earlier. 

In the 1980s portable phones expanded our multitasking options while having a conversation. Now our phones themselves multitask along with us. Even as I use it to send a text, my phone is my diary and archive, my calendar and camera. It connects me to google and social media, my work and personal emails. It could be my timer, if I could figure that out.

It’s hard to do just one thing anymore. I remember when television was new and seemed like magic, so we sat in rapt attention. Now I can’t just watch TV; my hands need to be doing something. After I took a class in using leaves in artwork, a walk was no longer a walk. I had my eyes out for useful specimens, then when I started birdwatching, it was hard to know whether I was in search of leaves or birds.

Studies tell us that we are not as good multitaskers as we think. I can have music on the the background as I write, although like this musing, if I don’t have an end in mind, I can find myself tapping my foot and paying more attention to the tune than the keyboard and screen. Do you find that if your mind is not set on one thing you can easily get distracted. Oops, there’s the doorbell. Catch you next week!

Marilyn

Labels

If you had a one-word sign in front of your home that told the world something about you, what would you want it to be? A new yellow sign popped up on my route to the office and it got me thinking about all of the labels that broadcast things about us. The fact that I wear BIFOCALS is a label as is my GREY hair. Our WARDROBE is a type of label, and some of us want the inside label to be just as noticeable as the clothes themselves. TATTOOS and PIERCINGS represent the challenge of thinking about labels, for to me, the trend is about the balance of fitting in while expressing one’s individuality.

We have learned that some of the obvious labels can hurt or be used against us. Labels like LEFT and RIGHT have polarized our nation. The bullying childhood taunts of FATTY, SKINNY, GEEK can still ring in our ears. Think, too, of Hester’s A or the Star of David BADGE Jews were once required to wear. But as hurtful as those can be, it is the internal labels that we hope no one sees. The ones like INSECURE or ‘FRAIDYCAT that our inner voice shouts or whispers. The one we fear says UNLOVABLE but that we know can say LONELY.

If only we realized that we share more labels than the ones we wear trying so hard to be unique. It was the word DEAF that got me started on this train of thought. That sign is now there to make drivers aware and afford safety to at least one person. But we are all DEAF to something; we all have a BLINDSPOT. Let’s focus on the labels that could make us all more aware and safe.

Marilyn

Reflections on storms

It was a clap of thunder early Saturday morning that served as my alarm. I awoke remembering what I was thinking when I feel asleep, maybe because it was related to what was happening. I had been wondering about the difference between isolated and scattered. While I could intuit a definition, I googled, just to be sure, and sure enough, I was mostly right, I just didn’t know the percentages. Isolated is when only up to 20% of the region may experience the storm and scattered is up to 50%. Anything above that falls under the category of things being likely.

On my current morning route, chances are isolated that something will delay my early arrival at the office, unlike the afternoon when irritants are likely. A visit to the library will generally prove likely that I will find something that catches my interest, and I’ve learned when I might be able to easily buy gas instead of waiting in a long line. The dating apps have figured out some calculations that the programmers hope result in likely, though I’m sure that some subscribers have experienced more isolated success. 

Now, if only there were predictors for flat tires, broken hearts, a fall down the stairs. And, even more, for going from percentages to certainty, such as knowing that the things out of sync in our society will be righted with one election. For knowing what happens at the moment of transition from life to death. But we humans must rely on faith, logic, science, the law of averages. We have choices, but mostly we have and have to rely on each other. Sometimes isolated. Sometimes scattered. Sometimes likely.

Marilyn

There are no words

When you learn that someone you know is terminally ill, there are no words. When a baby is born, there are no words. When someone watches as a river of lava approaches their home, there are no words. Yet, we try to fill the silence. Even when we know that what comes out of our mouths is inadequate at best and insulting at worst, we say words. Inadequate because grief, joy, disbelief are so difficult to describe in the moment. Insulting, for what we usually do is shift the focus to ourselves. 

Their experience reminds us of our own frailties and fears that we want to keep tapped down. It can be awkward to sit in silence with the hurting for we want to do something to ease the pain. But silence is more helpful than the story of what we did when something similar happened to our Aunt Bessie. What is best is to simply say that there are no words, share a hug, and then go do something practical like cook a meal.

It’s perhaps unusual for a writer to say that there are no words, but I’m talking here about when words are inadequate. We had yet another example this week of a celebrity tweeting something stupid, and, here, too, I recommend silence. Let the current Humpty Dumpty realize that life as they’ve known it is over. Yes, lots of words are written, said, and rehashed, but the silence for them now comes from the voices that are no longer calling. From opportunities missed, doors now closed. Michael Richards, Paula Dean, Mel Gibson, et al, may reinvent themselves, but there will always be a segment of the population that looks at them in righteous silence and thinks, “There are no words,” and walks away.

Marilyn