My Favorite Computer and Why I Love it

January 10 already. Christmas came and went and suddenly we are into 2015. My calendar's white space is filling too fast. I have enjoyed my down time this winter--no pressure, no deadlines unless you count the deadlines of poetry contests I was determined to  make.

For two days I found myself organizing my documents on my old laptop. I  have done my best to go paperless, but I have problems finding what I filed. Maybe it is the way I title my files. Or, maybe it is the way I change the title several times before I'm finished with it. 

My problem might be that I use three different computers - my Windows 8 desktop, my small Dell basic laptop, and my older laptop where most  of my writing is stored. I had hoped to transfer all my work to the new desktop, but I hate that system - Windows 8. I now  hear there  will be another system coming out  in the fall, hopefully  like Windows 7 or XP,  because the majority of the people who use Windows hate Windows 8. It is a poor combination of the popular tablet method and a computer. The genius who thought this up should find another  line of work.

Also,  my new desktop computer has become inhabited by gremlins that pop up and freeze the page when I try to use Google Chrome or try to get into my blogs. Now I avoid using that computer for blogging.

There was a time when I felt I was on top of new technology, when I urged my peers to use the Internet to promote their books and help them build a platform for their work. I even garnered the admiration of a young nephew who was impressed that a person my age, and I was much younger then, administered a couple of blogs. 

I have a Facebook and a Twitter account and a  Pinterest account and a LinkedIn account and a Google plus account. But  there is no way I have time to use all those things. I try to get to Facebook once or twice a week. That is all I can or want to do.

Recently it dawned on me that my favorite computer in my house is the old dinosaur that sits in my studio. It is not connected to the Internet at all. My genealogy program and my Word program is all I use on that old relic, and it faithfully opens and endures for as long as I can sit and use it. I also have a good photography program to use with my scanner. I spend hours scanning old family photos stored in albums that are falling apart, hoping to save them for future generations, and hoping they will care. 

I don't remember when we bought this computer, but I smile when I sit down to use it. It is like an old friend that I know will not fail me. No viruses, no mal-ware, no danger of being hacked. Like an old pair of shoes that are slightly out of style, it feels comfortable to me.

Writing is a way to learn about ourselves. Often when I begin, I don't know where I will end up. 

The lesson I learned today by writing this post is that it is the Internet that stresses me, that gives me a headache. Less time on the Internet and more time on the word processor is my  goal from now on. 

The following poem comes from my interest in family history and many trips to old cemeteries. Tell me what you think.

A Southern Family Cemetery  

by Glenda Council Beall      

The creaking wrought iron gate

breaks the silence on the hill

like thunder warns of summer storms.

I feel the breath of gentle winds

that nuzzle long leaf pines and leafy oaks. 

They surround sleeping ancestors

lying in the dust of caskets facing East,

buried deep, blanket green. Lichen-covered

crumbling stones etched with family names

are barely seen through overgrown azaleas.

My great grandfather, John, veteran

of the War Between the States lies

bordered by two wives; Fanny,

dead at fifty-three, worn out

from birthing seven children.

Missouri half his age, presented 

seven more to complete his second

round before he passed away at seventy-five.

My family men are strong

and woman-wise.

This deathwatch lends my mortal

soul continuum. Strung together

by our veins, like roads on a map,

century to century, suffering the same

finality, enduring the same foreverness.

(Previously published in a different version in Stepping Stone, 2000)

A New Year and New Beginnings

2009 , tonight less than one hour old, is as new and as innocent as this beautiful baby.

It is now 2009 at 12:35 AM. No one is awake but Tiger the bob-tail cat and me. Barry was determined to make it till the Ball Drop in Times Square, but I didn't need to see a ball drop, a peach drop or as they do in Brasstown, a possum drop, to know another year has flown by and still, I have so much yet to do.

Today was windy, cold but sunny and that lifted my spirits which are not the best on New Year's Eve. I even gave myself time to be pampered with a good long massage by Linda at Murphy Mountain Therapeutic Massage and now I feel more prepared to face a new year, with new challenges and new hopes and new goals. Always new goals. Last year my goals were more for NCWN West than for me, but in 2009, my goals are more personal.

Number one is to help my husband and partner heal and be well. Secondly, I want to submit more of my writing and possibly publish a book. This will take more discipline, more time given to myself, and a writing schedule such as Kelly L. Stone advises in her book, Time to Write..

When the Christmas tree, the few decorations I put out and the cards are put away, I look forward to beginning the new year with my class at the John Campbell Folk School in January. February will hopefully mean the end of Barry's chemo treatments and the beginning of a few weeks in Florida. We will both be ready for that down time.

March brings on the Blue Ridge Writers' Conference in Blairsville. I have not missed this annual conference since it began and I've enjoyed every one. My good friend Carol Crawford has created an excellent event for writers.

April weather inspires me to garden even though my planting usually takes place on my deck with pots of geraniums and in my yard, impatients line the bed beside the driveway. Thanks to Robert, a wonderful man who does the heavy work, our daylilly beds, our shade bed and our azaleas will pop with color and our twenty five dogwoods will brighten our wooded areas like left over snow mounds.

So now I go to bed and wake up in a brand new year. I will open my new journal and begin, January 1, 2009 and I hope and believe I will fill this journal with good things, things of which I'm more appreciative than I was last year. At the top of each page of this journal I will list what I'm grateful for and why. The more we emphasize our blessings, the less we dwell on our hardships. The more we give, the more we receive and the happier we are. This year with our shortage of cash, we plan to live a more frugal life and dispose of much we have that others can use.

I know what it is to do without. I saw my parents sacrifice and I can do the same if need be. Material things that have no active purpose are unnecessary if we need food and shelter. I see the country moving away from the greed and keeping up with the Joneses, and embracing a simpler life which will make for a kinder more compassionate society.
Happy New Year to you, my readers , to those who leave comments and let me know you enjoy this blog, a special thanks.

May all the best be yours in 2009.