reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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it can wait. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

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we drove into new york from pennsylvania and one of the first things we saw on this beautiful drive was this sign.  “it can wait,”  it declared.  so true.  what’s so important that can’t wait a few miles? traveling at just 60mph that would only be a mere 5 minutes away. i was infinitely proud of my homestate of NY and the effort to acknowledge and accommodate today’s technology while not superseding safety.  distracted driving is against the law in many states, including NY and for good reason.  we have all been privy to devastating stories, accidents that might have been avoided, moments when paying close attention should be paramount.  providing a place to communicate is smart; these text stops were fairly frequent on the road and there were always cars and trucks parked there.  but on the road, speeding down the highway?  no technology present.

we are kind of at the back end of technology, david and me.  the girl and the boy are smack dab in the middle of it.  and the little children and young teens we see running around with ipads for entertainment or their own cellphones are clearly at the leading edge.  we’ve watched while standing in line, even at the post office, as a mother hands a small toddler a phone to play with while waiting.  i’m not sure where conversation or making up games or riddles on the fly went.  i remember standing in a zillion lines in the post office with the girl and the boy (shipping has been key in my business) and they seemed perfectly content to wait or, ohmygosh, just talk.  no technology present.

but it’s different now (saying this is a sure sign of us getting older) and everything is more immediate and more distracted.  how many times have you seen a couple together in a restaurant with cellphones at the ready, lingering halfway between their tablemate and the pull of the internet or the text or instagram or twitter…  the look on one of the faces an expression of defeat or, worse yet, an aloofness that comes with not being able to compete with the magnetic pull of that small device across from them.  “it can wait,” i whisper silently, wishing the other person at the table could hear.  what’s so important it can’t wait? what’s more important than those moments spent together, really together?  paying close attention.  no technology present.

read DAVID’S thoughts on this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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beaky’s text. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

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at 93 these words were texted by my sweet momma on her iphone, about a week before she died three years ago.  she was amazing.  and damn strong.  “whoa!” i think, re-reading this text, “you go, momma!”

“…more than i say…more than i speak…more than you realize…” like every mom she walked the thin line between not saying enough and saying too much.  The Girl and The Boy are practiced at rolling their eyes at me and, i guess, i must have done the same to my momma.  so there’s that moment you dig in and, ignoring every quivering fibre in your body, you do not say anything.  you notice, you think, you know.  but you remain quiet.  for you also know that the lives you have gifted into this world are not yours to live; they are only yours to love, to hold closest to your heart, to support in every way you can, to lift up when they stumble or fall.

“don’t. underestimate me.”  so true, momma didn’t want to be under-estimated.  her spirit in the world accomplished bigger things than most professions can tout.  her kindness was rippling, her curiosity abounding, and her fortitude…that sisu.  you don’t want to be the retail/corporate/organization recipient of the “write-a-lettuh” vindication; momma was going to win.  she “wasn’t born in ny for nothin” as i say.  the day after the extra surgery she had just one day after her double-mastectomy a few months before this text, she sat on the edge of her hospital bed and called us “idiots” for not getting back on the road home.  she was going to be “just fine” and she was more worried about us on the road than herself.  that’s a mom for you.  that’s my sweet momma.

beaky dug in.  she was engaged and big in the world. and her sisu made her powerful.  she was wise even in silence.  she knew, even if i didn’t tell her.  like moms everywhere, she was tuned in, in ways that made her ever-present.  i always counted on that.  i still do.  she is on the edges of this earth, where the wind carries her to me.

i can only hope that one day my own children realize that – no matter what – i am right there.  i know more than i say.  i think more than i speak.  i notice more than they realize.  and never, ever, underestimate me.   because as their momma, i will go to the ends of the earth for them.  just like my mom.

read DAVID’S thoughts on BEAKY’S TEXT

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time together. [k.s. friday]

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the air coming through the windows this morning felt cool.  almost chilly.  it has been a long while since the last time i could say that of a morning here.  we have had a very hot, very humid summer…not my favorite combination.  but today.  it was different.  and it made me feel immediately homesick.  that happens every fall for me.  maybe it’s a melancholy recognition of the passing of time, years zooming by.  maybe it’s the season-change-thing…we know grey days are lurking right around the corner.  either way, i feel homesick.

it’s a time when i miss long island the most, recall my growing-up years, pine for the autumn at millneck manor and long deserted-beach walks at crab meadow.  a time when my sweet momma and poppo are really present for me in their absence, if that makes sense.  i yearn to talk to them.  a time when The Girl and The Boy seem oh-so-grown-up now, steeped in their own adult-lives, having adventures and being a dynamic part of this world, far away, without the benefit of hearing ‘good night moon’ every night.  i know that every evening they roll their eyes at my goodnight texts to them, but i figure that someday they will understand.  homesick.

yesterday was my father-in-law’s 85th birthday.  we called columbus and sang ‘happy birthday’ to him.  my momma and daddy did that every year for me and i try to carry on the tradition with the people i love.  he laughed and told us he had gotten back from dinner at texas roadhouse and was listening to an old record.  he listens to old records a lot.  i suspect, because he is the man he is, that he gets homesick.  i can tell by his eyes that he would totally understand me if i told him how i felt.

so today, if you are spending time together with someone, memorize it.  if you are lucky enough to spend time with your momma or your daddy, please hug them.  if you are one of the fortunate parents who have their children nearby, hold on just a little tighter and look into their faces when you say goodnight.  relish it.

there is nothing like it.

time together.

 

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flawed cartoon wednesday

49Steps BIGcopy copy 2interrupting is an art form on long island.  i know this. i grew up there.  and, apparently, i carried this forward.  it took d a while (read:  a few years and meeting crunch)  to realize i was paying attention, that i wasn’t ignoring what he was saying when i interrupted…i just knew where he was going with it and jumped ahead.  now, i do realize that sounds pretty rude.  it’s not my intention to ever be rude, so i have tried, in recent times, to w.a.i.t. before i speak…at least a little bit longer.  if you are nearby when jen and i talk, you will think we are interrupting each other, talking in a circular path and arriving back at the point; carol and i have, for decades, conversed in short snippets of interrupted tangents.  regardless of our intent, no one wants to be asked to “pay attention!”

yet, we have all these ways, nowadays (using this word makes me sound old), to not pay attention.   how many videos have you seen where people are walking in a mall (or somewhere) texting or reading on their cellphone and fall into a fountain (or some other obstacle.)  we sit with others and try to hold a conversation, but they are busy on their phone or some device checking facebook or texts or twitter or the news…so many ways to not pay attention, so many distractions.   we see the tragic effects of split focus while people are driving cars.

we are no longer just giving our attention to the moment.  we are interrupting conversation, our work, the activity we are involved in, each other’s safety.  we would be well-served to pay just-a-little-more attention.

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flawed cartoon wednesday

Acrobats BIGcopy copy 2my name is kerri and i was a razor-flip-phone-holdout.  it’s occurred to me that i might have been the last person who ever had one; i went from having my own brand-new-razor to The Girl’s hand-me-down-razor to my friend’s hand-me-down-razor to my friend’s daughter’s hand-me-down-razor….you get the picture.  i would hold tightly the little screws keeping both halves of the flip together as they loosened and fought to cease and desist – just to not have to move on and decide on (read:  learn) a new phone.

The Girl and The Boy generously gave me my first iphone for christmas a few years ago.  it was an iphone 4 and it was groundbreaking.  all my fears of smart-phoning disappeared and i became a part of the 21st century.

if it weren’t for texting, there are few conversations i would have with my children-who-live-far-away-and-are-too-busy-to-be-on-the-phone-with-mom (i knowww you can relate.)  it was always remarkable to me how fast The Girl could text; i teased her with thoughts of entering her in national contests.  she rolled her eyes.  apparently, this is not an uncommon skill.  i have to say, i flipped out the day, some time ago, that my iphone deleted my string of texts from The Boy.  these text-strings are pieces of life.

i have graduated one iphone beyond the 4.  skipping the 5 i now have a 6.  well, technically, a 6s (there are varying opinions as to what the ‘s’ means.)  it still amazes me the kind of connectivity with the world i can have with this little device, how truly smart it really is.

text me when you land makes me laugh.  an absurdly funny cartoon, you have to admit, texting is alive and well in all places.

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text me when you land ©️ 2016 david robinson