The tech age brings so much of our private lives to the masses it is scary. I honestly don't know how anyone who even owns a cell phone can have any expectation of privacy. We hear so many people complaining about the government's invasion into their privacy and all the hacking scandals. Can anyone expect to not be hacked at least once in their lifetime? I guess so, if they only make purchases in person. But even then, if they pay in anything other than cash their information is stored. Again leading to the possibility of being inadvertently released.
It is not just the financial aspect of technology. Consider all the social websites - Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, LinkedIn, to name a few. You participate in just one of these social websites and your information is immediately available to countless people around the globe. Yet people still expect some modicum of privacy when posting photos of their scantily clad bodies in seductive poses or gloating about how they defaced property because an acquaintance ticked them off.
I write all of this even as I partake of the technology juice. While I would like to think I have some bit of privacy when using https: websites, I know there is a risk. And in participating, I accept that risk. It is the social websites where the risk is, I believe, even greater. Friendships and marriages can be broken with a single entry.
Blogging and posting short entries on social websites is a convenient outlet. It feels good to vent, share one's worries, rejoice or pout online because others read and comment. And you are connected. Not face to face, but keyboard to keyboard. And it is interesting how different the posts of a teen or twenty-something are compared to someone who grew up in the pre-PC (that's Personal Computer, not Politically Correct) era.
Twenty-somethings and younger are growing up fully loaded with technology. Half the children in my son's elementary school have their own smart phones! And many public schools are changing their school supply lists to include laptops or minis. So sharing what they ate today, how boring Mr. Surinsky is in math and the latest photo of 'sexy me' puckering up for the camera is nothing.
But for those of us who spent our childhoods and possibly the better part our young adulthoods with rotary phones, the occasional TV and a total ignorance that computers even existed are a bit more discerning when, and if, we choose to participate in electronic socializing. There is something to be said about venting in person or over the (land-line) phone to a close friend. No audit trail. No lingering texts, emails, posts, voicemails, recordings...no nothing. We learned that burning a bridge in person is far easier to rebuild as memories fade and there are few to no reminders of the original slights.
There are times I would like to share the particulars of why I'm having a bad day in a social post. But the filter from days gone by kicks in and my thoughts go to who may read it and misunderstand it or who may become overy concerned when all I'm doing is venting after the situation has been resolved. Then I go to read a young person's post and aahhh! TMI! TMI! (Too Much Information)
It's interesting, this built-in filter of ours. It seems to be fading from our DNA as technology lends itself to sharing more to a broader audience.
03 October 2012
02 October 2012
Happy Birthday Little Sister.
Forty-seven years ago I was blessed with a little sister. She was a cute dumpling with black as night eyes and yellow blonde hair. Diane was a shy little thing. She liked to hide behind mama, and as her big sister, I was very protective of her.
We had several adventures in our youth. Like the time I, when I was six and she was three. We were sailing a ship in our dresser's bottom drawer. A nice tall, heavy dresser with a double bottom drawer. Apparently, two little girls in the bottom drawer were a tad heavier than the dresser, and the next thing we know the dresser topples on top of us. We both started screaming bloody murder. Even though dresser and girls were fine, mama failed to see the humor in it.
Then there was the time when I was eight and she was five. It was a hot summer in southern New Mexico. The house we were renting didn't have air conditioning, though the adobe it was built of helped a bit. I still don't know what motivated her, but Diane convinced me Santa Claus was going to pay us a visit and take us to the North Pole. The only way he could find our house was if we placed Christmas ornaments on the front lawn. So there I go, dope that I am, into the storage area to find the Christmas ornaments. Then she tells me I have to place the ornaments on the front lawn. And I do!
The next step was to pack our clothes. I gather our clothes (summer and winter) and move them all to a corner in my bedroom. I wasn't sharp enough to think of packing them in a bag or suitcase. We go eat dinner, and when mom and dad come to kiss us good night I meet them at the door. "No, I'm a big girl now...You don't need to come in my room to kiss me good night." Hah! Mom comes in 5 minutes later and the next thing I know I'm getting lectured by dad while putting the clothes, all of the clothes, neatly away.
Then comes our year in Wichita, Kansas. I am convinced Diane was and is allergic to Kansas. From the moment we crossed the border into Kansas until the moment we crossed the border out of Kansas, she was very, very sick. In and out of the hospital almost weekly. The school we went to didn't administer meds, so we walked home for lunch and back for the afternoon. Diane was younger than the other children in her grade, and she was smaller. She had two teachers that year. The first was Ms. Paine. When she went out on maternity leave she was replaced by Ms. Rabie (not sure about the spelling). We thought it was appropriate, the names of these two teachers. It was a very tough year for her.
We moved back to New Mexico, spent a year a few blocks from our grandmother and the next three years in the university's married student housing. Those were fun years. We spent a lot of time at the stables, had plenty of playmates our age, played in the rain (when it rained), and roamed all over the campus. Those were the 1970's; a more innocent time. And still, I was protective of my sister. We walked to our respective bus stops together, and when she had problems with any bus or classmates, I was there; the older sibling to guard and watch over her.
We started growing apart when she entered junior high and I entered high school. And within a few years it was all we could do to be civil to each other in the same vehicle. I had my group of friends in the orchestra and German Club, and she had hers in the Pom Pom Squad, football players, and band. I was the brunette with green eyes who preferred comfort over fashion (though I did like to flash some cleavage). She was the blonde with black eyes who left the house in full makeup, hair spray and the latest fashion. (Does anyone remember Jordache jeans?) When we were with our respective friends and happened to cross paths, no one could believe we were sisters. We were polar opposites.
In college we had our bad times, but we gradually started bonding again. There were a few times I would like to think I was actually a positive influence (no fake I.D's - ever). And when our paths crossed we started acknowledging each other. Then I graduated and moved to Florida. I remember circumstances the day I flew out as does she. Honestly, I think it was the first time in several years we really understood each other.
Diane was the first to get married, and it was the first (and probably only time) I was (and ever will be) a bridesmaid. It was a beautiful wedding, and I couldn't have been happier for my sister and my new brother-in-law. Diane was also the first to have children. And I am happiest knowing I was the first to be told she was pregnant; one of the biggest honors in life.
My sister is a very private person, and she would rather suffer in silence than share any misfortune. But when anyone, family, friend, stranger or foe, is in need she immediately takes action and does all she can to help. It may be as simple as a kind word and encouragement, a note or ride, and it may be organizing a group of people to provide much needed provisions. As we grow older we find that we are much more alike than we ever dreamt of in our youth. We still have our different pastimes and friends, but we think alike, we two. When one is thinking of the other, that psychic link compels the other to call. And I can still tell when something is on her mind. Maybe not all the time, but still when it counts.
I'll close with a few of my favorite memories spent with Diane. There were many, and these are but a few. The first was when we were living in married student housing. It was monsoon season, and the rain was pouring down. Diane and I took a walk, sharing an umbrella, around the neighborhood. It was like dancing in the rain, and we gloried in jumping in the puddles. Then there was the time we went to a frat party together. I don't remember the fraternity. It was the house on the corner of El Paseo and University (for us Las Crucens - it was turned into a Glenn Cutter Jewels, and I don't know if it still exists or was razed). What I remember best was us dancing to The Romantics - What I Like About You. To this day I think of her when I hear that song. And then there was the time we cut our friend Tim's hair. He'd had a fuzzy night and when he woke up the next morning someone had chopped his hair up. Tim asked us to 'fix' his hair. I don't think we giggled so much! There wasn't much we could do, but it was funny. And to close, when our Aunt Judy died, we all met in Houston to be together as a family and to attend her funeral. It was a difficult time. She was, in essence, the only aunt we'd known since birth. Mom, dad, Diane and I shared two hotel rooms as our cousins and their families would be staying at our aunt and uncle's house. Diane requires complete silence when she sleeps. No T.V., no radio, no nothing. Well, let's just say she found out pretty quickly that I snore. Loudly. All night. She slept with mom and dad that night. And the night after that. And the one after that. She even taped it. Yes, I have my snoring on iTunes. And it starts with "This is my sister, and this is what she sound like when she goes to sleep..."
Happy Birthday Diane. I love you LOTS, and I am so thankful I have you as my sister. Here's to many, many more happy birthdays.
We had several adventures in our youth. Like the time I, when I was six and she was three. We were sailing a ship in our dresser's bottom drawer. A nice tall, heavy dresser with a double bottom drawer. Apparently, two little girls in the bottom drawer were a tad heavier than the dresser, and the next thing we know the dresser topples on top of us. We both started screaming bloody murder. Even though dresser and girls were fine, mama failed to see the humor in it.
Then there was the time when I was eight and she was five. It was a hot summer in southern New Mexico. The house we were renting didn't have air conditioning, though the adobe it was built of helped a bit. I still don't know what motivated her, but Diane convinced me Santa Claus was going to pay us a visit and take us to the North Pole. The only way he could find our house was if we placed Christmas ornaments on the front lawn. So there I go, dope that I am, into the storage area to find the Christmas ornaments. Then she tells me I have to place the ornaments on the front lawn. And I do!
The next step was to pack our clothes. I gather our clothes (summer and winter) and move them all to a corner in my bedroom. I wasn't sharp enough to think of packing them in a bag or suitcase. We go eat dinner, and when mom and dad come to kiss us good night I meet them at the door. "No, I'm a big girl now...You don't need to come in my room to kiss me good night." Hah! Mom comes in 5 minutes later and the next thing I know I'm getting lectured by dad while putting the clothes, all of the clothes, neatly away.
Then comes our year in Wichita, Kansas. I am convinced Diane was and is allergic to Kansas. From the moment we crossed the border into Kansas until the moment we crossed the border out of Kansas, she was very, very sick. In and out of the hospital almost weekly. The school we went to didn't administer meds, so we walked home for lunch and back for the afternoon. Diane was younger than the other children in her grade, and she was smaller. She had two teachers that year. The first was Ms. Paine. When she went out on maternity leave she was replaced by Ms. Rabie (not sure about the spelling). We thought it was appropriate, the names of these two teachers. It was a very tough year for her.
We moved back to New Mexico, spent a year a few blocks from our grandmother and the next three years in the university's married student housing. Those were fun years. We spent a lot of time at the stables, had plenty of playmates our age, played in the rain (when it rained), and roamed all over the campus. Those were the 1970's; a more innocent time. And still, I was protective of my sister. We walked to our respective bus stops together, and when she had problems with any bus or classmates, I was there; the older sibling to guard and watch over her.
We started growing apart when she entered junior high and I entered high school. And within a few years it was all we could do to be civil to each other in the same vehicle. I had my group of friends in the orchestra and German Club, and she had hers in the Pom Pom Squad, football players, and band. I was the brunette with green eyes who preferred comfort over fashion (though I did like to flash some cleavage). She was the blonde with black eyes who left the house in full makeup, hair spray and the latest fashion. (Does anyone remember Jordache jeans?) When we were with our respective friends and happened to cross paths, no one could believe we were sisters. We were polar opposites.
In college we had our bad times, but we gradually started bonding again. There were a few times I would like to think I was actually a positive influence (no fake I.D's - ever). And when our paths crossed we started acknowledging each other. Then I graduated and moved to Florida. I remember circumstances the day I flew out as does she. Honestly, I think it was the first time in several years we really understood each other.
Diane was the first to get married, and it was the first (and probably only time) I was (and ever will be) a bridesmaid. It was a beautiful wedding, and I couldn't have been happier for my sister and my new brother-in-law. Diane was also the first to have children. And I am happiest knowing I was the first to be told she was pregnant; one of the biggest honors in life.
My sister is a very private person, and she would rather suffer in silence than share any misfortune. But when anyone, family, friend, stranger or foe, is in need she immediately takes action and does all she can to help. It may be as simple as a kind word and encouragement, a note or ride, and it may be organizing a group of people to provide much needed provisions. As we grow older we find that we are much more alike than we ever dreamt of in our youth. We still have our different pastimes and friends, but we think alike, we two. When one is thinking of the other, that psychic link compels the other to call. And I can still tell when something is on her mind. Maybe not all the time, but still when it counts.
I'll close with a few of my favorite memories spent with Diane. There were many, and these are but a few. The first was when we were living in married student housing. It was monsoon season, and the rain was pouring down. Diane and I took a walk, sharing an umbrella, around the neighborhood. It was like dancing in the rain, and we gloried in jumping in the puddles. Then there was the time we went to a frat party together. I don't remember the fraternity. It was the house on the corner of El Paseo and University (for us Las Crucens - it was turned into a Glenn Cutter Jewels, and I don't know if it still exists or was razed). What I remember best was us dancing to The Romantics - What I Like About You. To this day I think of her when I hear that song. And then there was the time we cut our friend Tim's hair. He'd had a fuzzy night and when he woke up the next morning someone had chopped his hair up. Tim asked us to 'fix' his hair. I don't think we giggled so much! There wasn't much we could do, but it was funny. And to close, when our Aunt Judy died, we all met in Houston to be together as a family and to attend her funeral. It was a difficult time. She was, in essence, the only aunt we'd known since birth. Mom, dad, Diane and I shared two hotel rooms as our cousins and their families would be staying at our aunt and uncle's house. Diane requires complete silence when she sleeps. No T.V., no radio, no nothing. Well, let's just say she found out pretty quickly that I snore. Loudly. All night. She slept with mom and dad that night. And the night after that. And the one after that. She even taped it. Yes, I have my snoring on iTunes. And it starts with "This is my sister, and this is what she sound like when she goes to sleep..."
Happy Birthday Diane. I love you LOTS, and I am so thankful I have you as my sister. Here's to many, many more happy birthdays.
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