Is anything really simple? Enjoying music (but that involves some level of cognition), watching a sunset, listing to the sound of birds. Laughing (but there’s a joke or concept perceived as funny).
Some things seem simple, but they were once complex: tying your shoes, riding a bike, even walking.
I’m due for a new phone, a smart phone, but I’m not sure I’m ready. Are we ever?
Oh, I love technology. I can’t wait to actually see the pictures people send me from their iPhones. And I’m tired of emoticons crashing and rebooting my old Samsung model. But my current cell, which I’ve had for almost three years, has more features than I’ve ever been able to use. What will I do with new?
I had adopted the attitude that you only have to use the features you like and/or need. It’s not that I don’t “get” the rest. I just don’t care to use it. I’m sure that I’ll need some lessons from students and my own kids on how to maximize its use, when I finally make the switch.
Will I be sorry I gave up the simpler one?
My most recent sorority magazine has an article about a 100-year-old time capsule, sent from our dear past Oklahoman sisters, who bought a “share” of the vault, which raised money for a new community organ. Pristinely saved in butcher paper were crisp programs, old membership lists, even a typewritten poem from 1903, progressive technology in personal correspondence on the farm back then.
For her submission, one women wrote an article called “Is a Return to the Simple Life Possible?” That’s funny. I thought life in 1913 was the simple life.
Actually, that’s not true. It’s been ever thus. What is simple?
Possibly you’ll enjoy this simple recipe for:
1 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
1/2 c. salted butter
1/4 c. vinegar
1/2 c. milk or buttermilk