Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Poetry Wednesday, Vol. 97

I don't even know who I am anymore.  I'm typing this on my new-as-of-a-couple-months-ago mac.  When I finish this post, I'll go to bed and read a big, heavy book in bed.  Only it won't be so very big or very heavy, because I will be reading it on a Kindle.  On our Wisconsin Dells trip there was a company dinner and they raffle off odd prizes, and the odd prize we won was a Kindle.  A Kindle!  This family that devours books, folding back the covers, writing in the margins, dog ear-ing the pages, now owns a Kindle.

And I love it.

We do quite a few home school lessons with the Kindle, I check out library books, and well that's it so far, but boy do we like it.  I also have a fancy phone, the kind that gets email and internet.  No, not an iPhone (just tried to spell that with a capital I, shows exactly how tech savvy I am), but fancy enough.

There was a time not too long ago when we had none of these gadgets.  In fact we took great pride, some might even say we reveled in our gadget-less existence.  Luddites?  Yes, us.  Now we are different people. Some days it is difficult to pry my nose out of my many gadgets.  Some days it is difficult to look up and see the lovely golden color cast over our back yard by the neighbor's tree.  I look out front and wonder when the mums began to flower, and didn't we just have tomatoes planted there?

Last night I was attempting to find some pictures of a baby Josie for Mom and had to wonder, wasn't she that little just yesterday?  When did her cheeks lose their chub?

Then I remember that it is actually 2011.  Not two years ago, three, even four.  It is now.  Put down the gadget.  Look at them now.  Those cheeks are still chubbly.  I just have to look.

Mary Oliver

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues:  vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer, this Now, that now is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering 
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water.  This

I try to remember when time's measure 
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay - how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.


Beth said...

Didn't Molly win a kindle through a raffle too? Oh you lucky ducks. As much as I try to flee the technology, it is is oh so lovely in what it can do.

A couple months ago I decided to try and not turn the computer on during the day (Elliot shoved five cds into it and it cost $150 to repair). In so many ways it is helped me to be more fully present, to look at what is right in front of me. Always the balance. Peace and goodness to you.

Beth Hanna said...

I love your comments more than the poem, but the poem is great too! Yes, yesterday goes by so quickly and I think you're enjoying all the kiddos while they're young and while you have them around you all the time, yes ALL the time! And yes, Josie was sure cute! Well, OK, they all were - are!

Michelle said...

I love this poem!

I love this post! :)

I have been working hard to savor moments with my children. I tend to get wrapped up in my to-do list - and, honestly, my technology too - and miss them, their smiles, their joy, their pain.

Thanks for the reminder.


Ruthie said...

Great poem, and sweet chub cheeks. I love my Nook, and I was a difficult convert from real books... I still pick up real books now and again :)

Molly Sabourin said...

Oh, those photos of Josie are super cute! It does go by frighteningly fast doesn't it? Technology will continue to challenge, amaze and frustrate me I think as I become ever more dependent upon it. That Oliver poem is so lovely .