Life Goes On No Matter Where I Am

As much as I complain about technology today, I am glad I can continue with my job as program coordinator for NCWN-West even when I am away because I have a computer. This afternoon I spent a couple of hours communicating with members by e-mail. 

I am fortunate to have wonderful volunteers who support our writers' organization. Part of my job is to teach the history and the guidelines we must follow as a non-profit. I want these leaders to be able to take over if I am out of the loop for a while and I feel sure they will and can.

I am scheduled for knee replacement in February and will be with my sister as I recover. As much as I dread the recovery, I will be so happy to walk again without pain, to stand in my kitchen for more than fifteen minutes with no pain. It seems my knee issue is stage 4 which is the worst and I need the surgery. I feel good that one of the best orthopedic surgeons will be my doctor. I have friends who recommend him and my physical therapists have told me his patients do really well in recovery.

Meantime, I am beginning an exercise program to best prepare my leg muscles for the surgery. I was told I would go home the same day I have the operation. "You will walk out the same day of the surgery," a nurse told me. But I will probably be under the influence of pain meds at the time.

Bad news caught me by surprise last week.

A couple of sensors in my 2007 car lit up on my trip down to Roswell. I took my car in to be diagnosed and was given a litany of problems that needed to be fixed. The total price for all that was around $3,000!!  I had to laugh. I could not get that much for my car if I sold it.

I settled for having my brakes repaired and that cost hundreds of dollars. I plan to have my car repair center back in Hayesville give me a second opinion. I feel sure they would not charge me this outrageous amount and if the sensors are the problem, maybe I don't need them.

My little Lexie is sleeping, snuggled up against me in bed and I need to go to sleep, too. 

Tomorrow we will get started with Christmas plans here. I will order a few gifts and Gay will begin decorating her house. She does a beautiful job of making her house ready for the holidays. They still put up a big tree which makes the room glow with lights. I have always loved Christmas but not the commercialism that it has become today.

Have a great week, my friends, and I will be back next week. Tell me your plans for Christmas.

Remember: Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins, is a great little Christmas gift. Order from City Lights Bookstore in Sylva, NC or pick up at Tigers on the square in Hayesville, NC. Or email me and I will send you the book at a reduced price.

My Favorite Computer and Why I Love it

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

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 to access my blogs. Now I avoid using that computer for blogging.

There was a time when I felt on top of new technology, when I urged my peers to use the Internet to promote their books and 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 Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, LinkedIn, 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 the Internet stresses me out and 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)