The temperature has risen this morning to a comfortable 45 degrees. The lawn crew is busy mowing and I'm working on my newest endeavor, the blog. A friend of mine commented that he thought a blog was a place to go and pick cranberries. I told him I would pass the wisdom on to others who might be confused. I remember cell phones when they weren't cool. When I was a criminal investigator, we got these brick phones. I guess they were called that because they were rectangular and about the size of a standard brick. These replaced the larger and more cumbersome bag phones. We thought we had arrived. And, not everyone in the entire world had one. Most were in the hands of business people and we didn't carry them with us everywhere we went. Now, however, people with no qualifications what-so-ever other than cash or enough credit to get signed up have them. They carry them everywhere and there are no rules in most places to govern their use. It's like introducing a species of Carp into a lake to eat unwanted plant growth and having them take over the entire lake and all its inhabitants. I am not sure, but it looks like almost all the drivers in our area think it is mandantory to talk on the cell phone while you drive. They rarely make eye contact at four way stop signs, or in situations that call for a yield - This makes me very nervous. Early attempts at hands free usage were not always satisfactory and caused some circulation problems to arise.
Now, even with more sophisticated devices to aid us in our overuse of a good thing, we still choose to drive with one hand and operate a cell phone with the other.
I have written the following poem to highlight this problem.
TRANQUILITY LOST
Whoever thought a modern invention,
designed to assist us,
could cause such contention?
In theory it’s great,
a freeing contraption.
But freedom’s a dream,
an illusive distraction.
.
We’re free, but we’re not.
We can’t get away.
It’s there in our lives
every night, every day.
No rest at a meal,
in a movie or church.
No relief from the thing
at play or at work.
“Turn it off, turn it off.”
There are signs and announcements,
admonitions and pleadings,
proclamations, pronouncements.
We forgot to consider the human condition.
That one fatal flaw that leads to perdition.
“It’s mine, it’s mine.”
they say as they flaunt.
“I’ll force you to listen.
I don’t care what you want.”
We swerve and careen
ever faster and bolder
with that hard plastic case
pinned twixt cheekbone and shoulder.
We’ll pass laws I am sure,
but who will obey them?
We’ll never return to those
days without mayhem.
