A View of the Hills
A quote from Cato the Elder in Hidden Villa’s campaign mailing cautions: “It is thus with farming, if you do one thing late, you will be late in all your work.”
These days I strive to do all things early, arising in an ebony window of time between 3 and 6 a.m. to jump-start another day of the relentless paper work that plagues a surviving spouse after the loss of a partner.
“Widows never sleep,” I’m told by those who have “been there, done that.”
In the dead of night, when a squirrel scrambling over my bedroom windowsill wakes me from a rare and restful slumber that might have lasted, had not the little scamp clawed its way up my outside wall, I switch on a relaxation tape, and follow up with music of the 1940s. “Swing and Sway with Sammy Kaye”, smooth, mellow tunes we danced cheek to cheek to; dreamy ballads of young love and wartime romance. Hopes and dreams that died in battle for some, but culminated in a blissful march down the aisle and “happily ever after” for others. I was one of the luckier ones.
When I see couples, young or older, walk hand-in-hand down Main Street my mind flashes on “Hello Young Lovers.”
“I know how it feels to have wings on your heels and to fly down a street in a trance.”
On warm summer nights in New York my sister, Laura, and girl friends and I walked “the Avenue” after supper. We pretended that the neighborhood boys, who just happened to be taking their after-dinner strolls at the same time, were of no interest to us, and we met, “not merely by chance.” Innocent as a rose, we and our meetings were harmless fun, laughter, and songs of which memories are made.
Now I struggle to stay on the positive side of the “digital divide.” A new widow’s lot, never a happy one, is further complicated by blizzards of forms to fill, and all things seem to conspire to hinder communication.
Technology spawns a digital disaster that seems designed to clamp us to computer and telephone; the latter contraption that its inventor, Alexander Graham Bell, eventually dubbed the “Devil’s tool,” and wished heartily it could be returned to the Pandora’s Box from which, he vowed, it had sprung.
On five separate tries to cancel a studio phone, I failed to make contact with a human being. After endless “stay on the line, your call is important to us” assurances, word came that “our operators will all be busy for some time,” followed, finally, by “We are closing down for the day,” and a recommendation to “Try our online station, WWWDot-com, etc.” The catch-22 is I’m not online.
“Who is this Double-You Double-You-Double You Dot-com?”
This plaintive question was raised by my intelligent friend, Gilda, who lives in Philadelphia and taught school for years. Like me, Gilda lives in growing awareness of the “digital divide,” though, thanks to Cris and our Number 3 son, I do use a computer, and concede it’s a good tool for rewrites.
My good friends, and now mentors, Bob, and Paul, who walk me through computer glitches, shake their heads at my limitations, attribute them to my “emotional state,” and assure me I will become a full convert in time.
Marilyn, our graphic artist, and other members of our Town Crier staff are more than generous with advice.
Cris always maintained I’m a l9th-century retread, marooned in a time warp and should have “gone back” ages ago. I must admit the experience with AT&T and other corporate giants causes me to yearn for the Pony Express which could have criss-crossed the continent several times in the eons it took AT&T to cancel one little telephone.
Cristy’s book “Chicken Tonight-Feathers Tomorrow” may be ordered toll free from l-888-7XLibris, or through Heintzelman’s Bookstore in Los Altos.
