As I type "out-of-date" , it seems a good thing, like I'm not involved with time, but actually this is about my involvement with time and my personal attempt to order chaos.
Yesterday, I realized it was time to begin my Christmas and Holiday cards, which led to realizing I need a new address book. I love a new address book and periodically the moment comes to acknowledge that people have died and something more is needed than a book with crossed-out names. I realize I could use a book that opens and replace a page, but I like the idea of something permanent, and the ritual of hand-writing names, so I went to Book Passage, my "local independent book store", to choose my new address book.
I looked at aisles and aisles of calendars and journals and engagement books and bridge books, but couldn't find any address books. I thought maybe I should be in a stationary store, though our local one has been replaced by a spa. I asked at the desk and no one knew what an address book was. I described it, a place where you write names and phone numbers. It was clearly a foreign concept, so the women got on the phone and called the woman who does the ordering for the store. Yes, it turns out they had a choice of three, down in the far corner on the shelf next to the ground. I knelt to peruse my three choices. When the woman, who didn't seem that young, saw them, she said, "Oh, yes, my mother has one of those."
It seems everyone keeps everything on-line. Who knew? I realized I had old-fashioned concerns about everything breaking down, but then I realized if that happened, "duh, the phones won't work", and it would take some time to return to the days of pony express and no zip codes. Of course my house could always burn down with my beloved book in it, but I find comfort in knowing it is here, tucked in a newly cleaned-out drawer which now opens easily without rubber bands, pens and extra paper clips popping out. Yes, I still use paper clips, and prefer them to these new fancy clips with the huge handles and advertising. If you are a breast cancer "survivor", you get lots of "goodie bags" with useless things in them including these ridiculous clips, which with my inability to throw anything away, clutter and clog my "junk" drawer.
I am happy with my book, a Carl Larsson address book, with incredible pictures of home and outdoors. This time of year I leave it open on the table as I write my cards as the mood strikes. Oh, yes, now I would like to address this person, and then, this. Slowly, I go, intentionally slow, with a message that travels in an envelope, and yes, I understand the environmental implications. This may be the last year I send out Holiday cards, and yet ...
I know email is out-of-date for young people but I still like it and I am happy here on LJ. I am slow to change and as I look out on this day of fog, with all the leaves resplendent with drops, I am content to be as I am, and I realize this may be the last address book I buy, the last cards I send. Soon, I, too, may have everything "on-line".
Again, interesting words for this exchange of information. Where is the line?