Lyrics: Ramblin’ rose, ramblin’ rose/ Why you ramble, no one knows. . .
During my freshman years of college, I took three quarters of Botany. The third quarter was Taxonomy where we collected and dissected plants and thus learned how to classify them. Fortunately, the guy I was dating then (and subsequently married) had a car and we made many forays out into the Ellensburg countryside in search of flowers. Searching the ground became such a habit that I continued the practice long after the class ended. I remember that time as I struggle today with another acquired habit, collecting articles and ideas pertinent to this blog. I say struggle because I’m questioning the purpose of continuing the blog. Loyal readers may have noticed that this writer skipped June and July. I’m in transition. But, aren’t we always in transition, adapting if we’re lucky to the demand of changing times and circumstances? For example, when did we move from seven-digit dialing to ten-digit dialing?
Am I the only person on earth who doesn’t have a Smart Phone? My family is pressuring me to get one so that I can text. Texts are immediate; emails take a nano second longer and are passe (def: not youthful). Letters take even longer. Remember letters? During the basement purge, I came upon a delightful book that demanded rereading; an entire book written in letters. (The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.) If possible, it was even better the second time around.
I also came across a stash of old letters from loved ones; my grandmother, my mom from when we lived away, a beloved high school teacher, friends, and even a postcard from Patch Adams, and two letters from Dorothy Gilman, author of the very popular Mrs. Pollifax mystery series. She apologized for the delay in answering my letter explaining that she’d been recovering from pneumonia secondary to tomb dust while doing research for a book in Egypt. Now, how many people do you know who’ve contacted pneumonia from tomb dust? My friend, Maxine, now in her eighties, still exchanges letters with a pen pal in England. They’ve been writing to each other now for well over sixty years.
I understand the need for people in business to have immediate contact with their “people,” and for parents with their children, and young people with their friends because long gone are the days when one tied up the only family phone talking to their BFF. For now, I will stick with my old flip-phone (to be used in case of an emergency) and treasure the emails I get daily from my dear cousin still willing to spend some time on me the old way even though she’s hip and communicates with her thumbs.
Lyrics: Wild and wind-blown/ that’s how you’ve grown/ Who can cling to a ramblin’ rose? (Writers Joe and Noel Sherman)
rosesinjanuarydotcom 