We live in a house full of old furniture, old books, old photographs, old dishes, old pots and pans, and sundry heirloom antiques. Wouldn’t it be strange if we were to populate it with smart devices — a term itself meant to last no longer than what it was coined to sell? Isn’t it better to speak to each other and to ourselves than to an array of gadgets and appliances destined for landfills and outdated from the moment they are installed?
(And yet isn’t this being written on a laptop computer, to be published at the push of a button to the vast Ever-Never-Land of the Worldwide Web? And hasn’t my entire life been lived during a time of such marked-yet-easy contradictions?)
I saw the Eiffel Tower once. Make that twice.
And the Kremlin. Not to mention the tomb of Christ.
They sent their regards to my mother’s
old dented measuring cups.
Wasn’t that nice?
Songs and Letters, January 13, 2008
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Categories: Everything and Nothing, New Poems & Pieces, Songs and Letters
Tags: Antiques, Contradictions, Diaries, Jerusalem, Journals, Measuring Cups, Memory, Monuments, My Mother, Smart Devices, The Eiffel Tower, The Kremlin