My nephew refers to social networking sites as "Spacebook" which brings "LOL" to family members. (Did I use that texting acronym correctly?) These first two sentences give all readers the level of my knowledge about this area of technology. Actually, these first two sentences tell a lot about my level of knowledge about ALL areas of technology. And that's okay by me. I'm pretty much at peace with myself about what I don't know. I really think that if I know too much more, I'll just use up more of my good life moments in front of the flat screen which is exactly what I don't want to do. I have way too much real life to live.
But here's what I really would like to know about social networking and it has to do with something I learned from the aforementioned family members just yesterday. They told us about a major piece of family news that involves another family member whose life has become explosively controversial over the years. And they learned the news on "Facebook." My question and what I want to know: Why do people feel so comfortable posting intimate bits of personal knowledge for all the whole world to see? Why don't they call, or even better, visit the pertinent people who will be affected by the big news and tell them in person? What is happening to face to face communication? Is it easier to just spit out all your personal life problems all over the keyboard and thus onto all the flatscreens of everyone you know? And is nothing sacred anymore? Managing the ego's need for recognition for a large on-screen audience seems like one is answering all of Dr. Phil's questions even before being asked on to the show.
But then notice how often I blog. . . .
Friday, June 25, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Paper and Plastic
I was headed down Highway 213 on my way to Dallas this morning to see my old friend Arlie who's laid up in an adult care home. I stopped at McDonald's for one of my favorite breakfasts (big confession to all my green and healthy eating friends here), a sausage egg McMuffin. One of my great pleasures is to munch this while cruising along this verdant road which is deep within the very definition of "Willamette Valley" with all the crops sprouting and the farmers walking around their properties and the small stands here and there selling scrumptious local berries. But I hadn't even left McDonald's; in fact, I'd barely gone 20 feet before I slowed down to throw the straw wrapper and the bag containing the McMuffin into the trash. I thought, "Hmmm. . .those paper products only lasted seconds, mere seconds before they were relegated to the landfill. Not good."
After my visit with Arlie (whose condition remains a mystery after a lengthy hospitalization, many tests, and still unbearable back pain), we traveled down 99E to Monmouth where we picked up some strawberry shortcake at Burgerville and then proceeded to the park to eat it under the shade trees next to where kids were climbing monkey bars and blowing bubbles and playing in the fountain while their families, relatives, and friends were barbecuing up the picnic lunch. It was a scene straight out of an old page of "Life" magazine. When we left, we carted two heavy weight cardboard boxes, two ultra sturdy plastic forks, and two large napkins to the garbage can. Those disposables lasted about 20 minutes from brand new to old junk.
Then on my way home (and could we just keep this a secret, please?). I stopped yet again at Burgerville for a cheese burger and some fries. I even asked for salt. These burgers remind me of the ones we used to eat at Bob's in Salem in the 60's and 70's. They have the same warm flatness which is mooshed together with the "special sauce" and has the thin cheese oozing out the edges. This is exactly what we ate for a special lunch in high school when we somehow scraped together enough money to have "hot lunch." Only the high school cafeteria ladies at North Salem made them much tastier. But that was back in the day; Burgerville is as close to those burgers as I can get these days. So the whole business of eating one brings back all sorts of good old memories to mull over as I complete my drive home. The scraps from that "meal" lasted from Canby until I pulled into my driveway and threw them into our own garbage can along with some uneaten french fries. I'd finally hit my saturation point with fast junk food. And look at all the paper and plastic products that lasted for only MOMENTS during this day of bad eating before I abandoned them to their fate in the landfill. How sad that they couldn't have lived any longer.
After my visit with Arlie (whose condition remains a mystery after a lengthy hospitalization, many tests, and still unbearable back pain), we traveled down 99E to Monmouth where we picked up some strawberry shortcake at Burgerville and then proceeded to the park to eat it under the shade trees next to where kids were climbing monkey bars and blowing bubbles and playing in the fountain while their families, relatives, and friends were barbecuing up the picnic lunch. It was a scene straight out of an old page of "Life" magazine. When we left, we carted two heavy weight cardboard boxes, two ultra sturdy plastic forks, and two large napkins to the garbage can. Those disposables lasted about 20 minutes from brand new to old junk.
Then on my way home (and could we just keep this a secret, please?). I stopped yet again at Burgerville for a cheese burger and some fries. I even asked for salt. These burgers remind me of the ones we used to eat at Bob's in Salem in the 60's and 70's. They have the same warm flatness which is mooshed together with the "special sauce" and has the thin cheese oozing out the edges. This is exactly what we ate for a special lunch in high school when we somehow scraped together enough money to have "hot lunch." Only the high school cafeteria ladies at North Salem made them much tastier. But that was back in the day; Burgerville is as close to those burgers as I can get these days. So the whole business of eating one brings back all sorts of good old memories to mull over as I complete my drive home. The scraps from that "meal" lasted from Canby until I pulled into my driveway and threw them into our own garbage can along with some uneaten french fries. I'd finally hit my saturation point with fast junk food. And look at all the paper and plastic products that lasted for only MOMENTS during this day of bad eating before I abandoned them to their fate in the landfill. How sad that they couldn't have lived any longer.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Empty Stage
Rolling through the end of the night on our way to Owl Grove was almost fun and almost exciting and certainly strange. I had forgotten how truly closed the world almost is at 4 a.m. The night approaching morning was dark, still and quiet. It wasn't even raining.
We steathily made our way out of the car and waited at the edge of the grove until just enough light let us make our careful way to the shelter closer to the grove. We strained our ears and scanned the dark sky. We heard lots of robins. No hoots. No wingspans crossed the sky. When the light increased a bit more, we made our way slowly through the trees. We found the old nest. We had to wait even longer to conclude that it was empty. And still not a single hoo-hoo-hoo. Then when it was almost totally light, we were able to see evidence of chalky owl poop at the base of some of the trees. They had definitely visited the grove, but their physical and audible absence at this point informed us that they had not nested in this part of their territory this year. We stayed until we were sure of this fact and then made our way back to the morning proper. We formally closed the last page on the adventure part of Owl Grove and will only re-visit it if we happen to be in the area and when we are marketing the book.
We steathily made our way out of the car and waited at the edge of the grove until just enough light let us make our careful way to the shelter closer to the grove. We strained our ears and scanned the dark sky. We heard lots of robins. No hoots. No wingspans crossed the sky. When the light increased a bit more, we made our way slowly through the trees. We found the old nest. We had to wait even longer to conclude that it was empty. And still not a single hoo-hoo-hoo. Then when it was almost totally light, we were able to see evidence of chalky owl poop at the base of some of the trees. They had definitely visited the grove, but their physical and audible absence at this point informed us that they had not nested in this part of their territory this year. We stayed until we were sure of this fact and then made our way back to the morning proper. We formally closed the last page on the adventure part of Owl Grove and will only re-visit it if we happen to be in the area and when we are marketing the book.
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