Howdy, Campers! Happy Poetry Friday...and Happy Internet Day on October 29th!
The P.F. link and my poem are below (and trust me--today's host posts a tasty Poetry Friday!)
The Internet: it all began 46 years ago with Leonard Kleinrock
With this post, TeachingAuthors launches a short series celebrating the birth of the internet. And we want to hear from you: has the internet changed you? In what ways? What comes to mind when you think of the internet?
According to TheInternetDay.com, on October 29, 1969, under the supervision of UCLA computer science professor Leonard Kleinrock, the first message was sent over an internet connection.(Click here for the sound of connecting to the internet via dial-up...)
When I think of the internet, I think of moving to a new town, into our new house and connecting to the internet, in 1994. Not long after, my friend Barney Saltzberg (whom we've featured several times on this blog) and I began to email each other. We could read each other's thoughts--instantly! We could complete each other's sentences! We could talk deep into the night without speaking! We could collaborate on stories through the air! It was A-freakin'-MAZING.
My. Brain. Exploded. Were our lives ever going to be the same again?
Mine was not. Not long after, I met Courtney Campbell, who regularly tours schools in Europe. She was incredibly generous, sharing the contact information of her host in Germany. If she had simply given me his snail mail address, I may have stuck that note in my desk and never done a thing about it. Instead, she gave me magic: his email address. I emailed him that evening: "Hello! Would you be interested in having an author visit your schools?"
In the morning, his reply arrived: "How soon can you come?"
And so began several years of my touring schools in Europe. Yup. My life had changed forever.
When I think of the internet, I also think of how each freshly-baked email, each amazing link, each post by every dear friend is a pretty shiny thing which grabs my attention...again and again and again...
...wait, what was my point?
My brain on the internet.
from www.gifbay.com
from www.gifbay.com
...and I see how the very structure of my life has changed since that initial euphoria Barney and I tasted, splashing in the shallow end of the 'net.
When I think of the internet, I also feel weighted down.
Off to chop down a few emails...
Do you?
These days the internet is an unending desire to send a friendly and intelligent reply to every message in my inbox.
It's perpetually polishing my shiny online portrait.
It's forever unfinished homework.
How did we go so quickly from "Oh, WOW--this internet thing is AMAZING!" to "I can't drive with you to the party tonight--I'll meet you there. I need to finish my blog post and I have too many emails to answer" which--and I swear this is true--I just said five minutes ago (paraphrased) to my husband.
Here is the chorus:
These are the days of miracle
and wonder
This is the long-distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby don’t cry
Don’t cry
This is the long-distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby don’t cry
Don’t cry
(here are the rest of the lyrics)
(If you'd like to simply listen to the song, then you can stare at a static image of the Graceland album's cover as you listen here. On the other hand, if you'd like to see Simon's official music video--i.e. pretty shiny stuff--here 'tis.)
MIRACLES AND WONDER
by April Halprin Wayland
"The average farmer’s wife is one of the most patient
and overworked women of the time." ~ The American Farmer, 1884
Illinois, spring,
I am descending fifteen flights of stairs
from my lonely hotel room
to a breakfast of buttered toast and eggs.
to a breakfast of buttered toast and eggs.
Each empty floor’s the same:
the same metal stairs,
the same smell of dust and cleanser,
the same beige walls...
so I pull my cell out of a zippered pocket,
dial my sister to say hi, to keep me company,
and as her phone rings in California,
I am descending in time.
I imagine a prairie wife,
one who helped lace the land with barbed wire,
churned butter, gathered eggs, fed the fire,
birthed and buried babies.
No time for mourning.
As winds scratched the plains,
she murmured to the hens.
she murmured to the hens.
She had no other company.
She might have called her sister
if she had had a phone,
if she had had a phone,
might never have wandered off,
head tilted back, mumbling to the wide sky.
Each day was the same,
the same metal horizon,
the same smell of dust and scrub,
the same beige crops...her solitary lot.
If only a phone
instead of a lonely yearning;
instead of a lonely yearning;
with a single cell she might have kept
her own fire burning.
poem and drawing (c) 2015 by April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
So now,when I think of the internet--when I think of any technology--I may be overwhelmed (a dilemma which the next generation of users will undoubtedly solve) but I'm also singing about Miracles and Wonder.
Are you?
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby don’t cry
Don’t cry
And now click on over to Jama's Alphabet Soup for a delectable array of poems!
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