Moving Off
I am about to swear off the internet cold turkey.

Special designs so complex an 83 and-a- half mind cannot follow the directions and fuzzy eyes cannot read the teeny words on the flossy new desktop. Old fingers cannot even type on the teeny keyboard of a nice newfangled phone, and even with Eargos in my ears I cannot hear what Alexis or Siri are whispering.

About four years ago I turned over my car keys and car and quit driving. At first I suffered withdrawal, but found new freedoms that compensated for clipped wings.

I suppose I could revert back to a simple typing setup …a word processer maybe…and ask others to do the tech interface with the throngs of fans out there online. And surely I could paint more leisure my moody
paintings with my nice big Kolinsky brushes.

But could I share the art I make with followers all over the world?…or would the work of my hands and soul moulder in a storage locker somewhere unseen? I suppose someone would see them when I die and the contents of the foreclosed locker are auctioned off to speculative bidders. Taken to the Habitat store?

I seem to be in that sort of place today. And in a few hours my eldest grandson will marry his forever lady and I’ll kiss them through our COVID masks and try to see whether they’re really smiling.

Old folks…the lucky ones who have had a rich and rewarding life…have to say goodbye a lot. But we still have hearts and good thoughts that might be of use, even if we cannot keep track of passwords or find the start button.

Dirty trick these new dashboard mazes , Microsoft and Apple. Moving the start button…and clogging the screen with a wild bazaar of choices.

Sgh __Sept 4,2021