She's ninety and it's hard for her to see. Glaucoma has made her world blurry and the only way she can look at her gossip magazines is with a lighted magnifying glass. The glass can't help her to read though, those days are over.
Her nails bother her and the kids joke that she shouldn't let me near them - I cut everything too short. But she does want me near them and she asks if I will trim them for her. I'm nervous about this, the last thing I want to do is injure her and I don't have my reading glasses with me. I'm at the stage where I can still read my watch and a menu without glasses, but I won't sign a contract without them and I probably shouldn't pull out splinters or go after eyelashes unless they're on. I really should start to carry them with me.
Glasses or no, she wants me to help her, and I can't say no. I pick up her cosmetics bag and find her nail trimmer and nail file. "Do I have an emery board?" she asks doubtfully. Yes, sweetie, I've got it.
I gently pick up one hand and cut the end of the nail, careful not too cut it too short. She tests the length against another finger, then her cheek. "That's perfect." Carefully, slowly, I cut and file the rest of them.
Together we examine the polish and decide her nail color is still pretty - no need to repaint. She feels all of her fingertips one by one and thanks me in a more heartfelt manner than I deserve. This chokes me up a little. Small pleasures. Small gifts. Little things that matter.
At the airport, I am overcome with the same feeling I always get when I leave her. What if this is the last time we see each other? Have I made her feel loved enough? Does she know how much she matters to us?
Cassandre starts to tear up at the airport, looking at a carved stone heart "made in Utah." She wants it to remind her of this trip. To remind her of her great-grandmother. I remind her that she'll be back next month, she'll see her again soon. She nods solemnly and asks me again to please buy her the necklace. She promises to pay me back. (Who could ask for the money?)
At home Cassandre picks up the ancient candlesticks my grandfather sent to my grandmother from England right before he was shot down and killed over Germany in WWII. I am responsible for taking care of these precious memories, but I have not washed them lately and they are tarnished and dirty. Cassandre wants to clean them and together we take them apart, piece by loving piece. We wash and dry each one, noting where the silversmith has encoded "A" "B" "C" and "5" "6" "7" so we know exactly which part goes back where. Soap and water make good progress, but not enough. We buy some polish to bring the shine back.
It makes us feel connected to do this work. Hands on labor to restore some dignity to something so precious. We don't try to make it perfect, just better.
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Sometimes technology empowers me. Things work smoother and faster and I can write, connect, watch, create and generally do and be more, as result of magic of technology.
Then there are times when technology thwarts me at every turn. Things break, slow down or just become ridiculously complicated. When that happens, technology can suck the energy out of just about every task big and small.
After months of everything working relatively smoothly, I seem to find myself thwarted by machines, captive to electrical conundrums, bogged down by bad connections and generally wading through the muck of technology gone wrong.
The televisions have had memory cards replaced, firmware upgrades and new panels installed. The cordless phones have taken to randomly deciding to let me know who's calling or not, as it pleases them. The programmable thermostat seems to want to decide for itself when the heat should go full blast or completely off. Bulbs in my bedroom and the backyard refuse to power up and provide light. My Blackberry's trackball has developed a sluggishness and a stickiness that makes me suspect that some of that nasty green goo from Ghost Busters is oozing just behind the faceplate.
But the most vexing problems are with my computer and its relationship to programs and the Internet. It's slow. Really realley sl-o-o-o-o-o-o-w. Which is maddening enough, but it loses things. It forgets things. It doesn't want to connect to sites and people it should connect to. It misbehaves, acting like it doesn't care to help me do the things I need and want to do. This defiant, sluggish laptop was purchased in May of this year.
I've tried all the usual (but not extreme) remedies that those of us with an above average comfort level with personal technology know to do in these situations. I've tried them two and three times or more.
It might be time for more drastic measures. But before I go that far, one of my business partners offered up his "Technology Cleansing Ritual".
I think it might be worth a shot.
When you are in the snowy cold of Minnesota, take your laptop, remove any jewelry and do the following:
1. Gather freshly cut parsley and place it in a pan of distilled water. Let it soak for nine minutes. Sprinkle the water throughout the house while visualizing a calm environment.
2. Go outside, face Seattle and chant the following: I will uphold the Redmond creed. High in spirit, I shall succeed. Power of the Elements Five, will help my data stay alive. From grains of earth to the moving air, past the burning fire that magic flares, flow with water, lakes, and streams; around the spirit's aura and dreams. Keep my karma high aloft and let me play with Microsoft.
3. Avoid eating any liver or organ meat for one month.
You should be good to go!
J
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