The End of a World

Once upon a time a woman kissed her husband goodbye.

The tension created by the anticipation of his departure dissolved as she committed him to memory:  the baby softness at the nape of his neck, the scar from a stick wielded by his brother, the hands that could caress their baby’s head or build a stone wall.  And his voice.  Especially his voice.

He promised to stay safe and to return home.  They pretended the promises were guarantees, as if the words made their own reality.

Finally it was time for him to go.  One more kiss, one more hug, one more exchange of I-love-you’s and then he walked away.  She watched him until he disappeared into the crowd, adding his walk to her collection of memories.

His absence was a sharp pain at first, but after a while the routine of living dulled it to an ache.  Busy-ness became her business; only activity kept her mind quiet.  Thinking always grew into worry and then dread.  She prayed, but she knew that God doesn’t always give the answer the petitioner hopes for, and she wasn't sure which course He’d choose this time.

She heard from her husband occasionally, and the communication was a two-edged sword.  It was good to know that he was well, but contact reopened the wound of his departure.

Days passed, and each dawn brought her closer to his return.  She started to think again, to allow herself to make plans for their future together.

One day she awoke to a morning filled with primary colors, as if the world were feeling hopeful too.   She was putting on the baby’s coat and preparing to run errands when she saw the uniformed men walking to her door.

She could never recall the words that were spoken, only their meaning.  Her husband, her best friend, the father of her child was gone.  Their last kiss was the last kiss.  The world as she had known it ended.

Later she would tell her daughter about her father, about how he gave his life so she could live without fear, free to follow her dreams.  Sometimes, when the night stretched out before her like a desert, she wished he hadn’t been willing to serve, that he hadn’t felt compelled to answer his nation’s call, that he hadn’t been a man of honor.  But then he wouldn’t have been the man she loved, and this conclusion always gave her a kind of peace.  

 On Memorial Day Americans remember those who gave their lives in the defense of our nation.  Today I give thanks for the men and women who paid the ultimate price for my freedom. I also  pray for all the loved ones left behind.  May they find daily grace and peace and the courage to rebuild their lives.

Skin Deep

A Moment’s Notice:

Striving for Awareness of Each Moment,

Reflecting on the Events of the Moment

Pop quiz:  Your best friend calls to say he/she has gotten a tattoo.  Your first reaction is:

       A. "Cool!”

       B.“What were you thinking?”

Okay, let’s see how everyone answered.  Who chose "A"?  Well, that’s interesting---I was expecting a pack of Hell’s Angels, and instead I see choir members and schoolteachers.

Now who chose "B"?  Hmm, just a couple.  I see that growly guy who turns out his lights on Halloween and someone who looks like the girl who kicked me off the playground merry-go-round in first grade. 

Let’s try something different.  How many of you would choose “B” if your best friend in the whole world had chosen to do something temporary, like a wacky hair color or an unfortunate choice of pants?  Let’s call it option “C”:  “I’m thinking, ‘What were you thinking?’ but there’s no way I’m saying that.”  May I see a show of hands?

Uh huh, I thought so. 

I sense a river of ink is starting to move across our world, or at least my small portion of it.  It suppose it would be more accurate to say that while sometimes the ink is a river, visible to all, at other times it’s an aquifer, flowing underground, out of sight. 

I’m a curious soul, intrigued by activities alien to my own experience.  Getting a tattoo definitely falls in that category.  Growing up in a small South Carolina town in the ‘60s and ‘70s I only remember seeing tattoos on real live people---not in movies about sailors or crazed convicts on the loose ---on the arms of a couple who ran a clothing store in town.  The numbers were engraved on their forearms, courtesy of the Third Reich.

So, the idea of getting a tattoo never even bounced against the fringes of my adolescent consciousness.  You might as well have asked me if I had ever considered moving to India to study with a guru.  I dreamed about dancing on “American Bandstand,” grooving in the spotlight to the latest song by the Jackson 5.  (Younger readers, you’re now excused to visit Google to look up those references.  We’ll wait for you.)  

Tattoos didn’t register on my adult brain until around 20 years ago, when one of my husband’s cousins said her son had announced he was getting one.  I remember thinking, “Hepatitis!” and shook my head in sympathy with the distressed mother.  

In recent years I’ve learned that quite a few of my acquaintances and friends have adorned themselves with designs declaring their faith, their family ties, and/or their creative flair.  When a friend recently took a seat in a tattoo parlor and returned to work with a colorful design etched around her forearm my curiosity boiled over.  I decided to do an informal survey on Facebook.      

I asked my friends with tattoos these questions:  Why did you decide to get a tattoo? Was it something you had wanted for a long time or was it an impulsive decision? Is the design symbolic or simply cool? Is your tattoo visible to the general public? Do you have more than one tattoo? Any regrets?

Five friends responded, so we’re not talking about an exhaustive study here.  Still, I found their answers illuminating, and I wonder if they represent some common threads among tattoo wearers. 

The first, most important question: “Why?”  B explained her decision this way: “I have four tattoos.  The motivation for my first tattoo was half teenage rebellion, half just for me…Each tattoo has a personal meaning to me…a story.  I have never walked in and picked something off the wall.  My tattoos are symbolic of my faith, my marriage, and my children.”

A tattoo as an outward sign of an inner commitment or struggle resonated with other women as well.  M answered that she got her tattoos while going through therapy. “I have two red roses.  One is a bud and one is a full bloomed rose.  The bud is symbolic of how ‘closed’ I felt when I started therapy and the full bloomed rose represents what I felt was going on inside of me during.”   A said her two tattoos have “deep spiritual and personal meanings” for her and she waited “quite a while” before she got them.

The two guys who responded showed their sensitive side as well.   Although G said he finds humor in some responses to his tattoos he noted that they represent important aspects of his life.  “I can tell you where I got each one and who I was with as well as what they represent. Everything from my faith, to my military service to my wife, boys and friends. “  He added that his tattoos had prompted conversations “with people that may otherwise not have talked with me.”

C chose a religious theme.    “Designed it myself.  Not visible to public...planned that way. Very specific meaning.  Michael the Archangel.”

Do tattoo artists offer volume discounts?  I ask because four of my five respondents have multiple tattoos and I’ve observed that trend in the public square as well.  G said he wasn’t sure why he started getting tattoos, “but once you get one, you want to get more.”  M said she’d like to get another, as did the friend whose tattoo prompted this post.

On to the question of show-and-tell---or not.  Although none of my friends expressed regret about their tattoos, some mentioned covering them with clothing from time to time.  A said hers are not usually visible because of her fashion choices, and one of B’s is always hidden from view.

Here’s where I start to chime in:  What’s the point of having a tattoo no one ever sees?  If it’s a statement to the world, shouldn’t the world get the chance to take it in?  And if it’s a personal statement, an exclamation point to your beliefs or experiences, how effective can it be if you never see it without the aid of mirrors and some yoga-like moves?   

Then again, maybe seeing the tattoo isn’t the most important thing.  Maybe significance really lies in the choice to endure a certain amount of pain in order to etch a permanent message into your very skin.  Maybe just knowing it’s there is enough.    

B summed up the tattoo trend nicely: “There is a generational stereotype that has shifted. Older generations associate tattoos with drugs, alcohol, and a wild lifestyle. Younger generations view tattoos as an extension of self- expression... a permanent accessory that has a story.”

The term “permanent accessory” jumped out at me.  I have varying requirements for accessories, but I have never wanted them to be permanent.  One of the best things about fashion is that it’s perfectly fine to be fickle.  Thank goodness I don’t have to go through the rest of my life wearing my 1983 eyeglasses with the saucer-sized lenses.

I can’t disagree with B on the biases “older generations” have when it comes to tattoos.  If I went to a new doctor and noticed he had a dragon writhing around his neck, a peace symbol on one hand and a dove on the other I’d immediately wonder if I were in the presence of an imposter.  Even if he demonstrated impressive diagnostic skills I’d always wonder what else was going on in his mind, what messages he wanted his tattoos to send.

After spending several days with this topic I have concluded that tattoos aren’t inherently bad, although I did learn that tattoos are taboo for those of the Jewish faith.  (Visit hillel.org for some interesting information.)  But I’m more certain than ever that they’re not for me.  Too many decisions:  Whether to reveal or remain hidden, to have a single tattoo or a gallery, to make this irrevocable design choice or that one.   However, I have resolved to ask friends with interesting tattoos a single question:  “What were you thinking?”  No exclamation points, no condemnation, just curiosity.

Alone in the Crowd

A Moment’s Notice:

Striving for Awareness of Each Moment,

Reflecting on the Events of the Moment

In my last post I worried that the development of brain-computer interfaces would turn us into motionless sloths who change television channels just by thinking.  But now I’d like for you to consider a more disturbing consequence: That such technological advancements would render our isolation from each other total and complete.

You might be asking, “What isolation?”  If so, I gather you haven’t wandered into a public place in the last ten years or so.  Stroll through a shopping mall, wait in line in a grocery store, or take a seat at a church supper and you’ll see folks hunched over smartphones and tablets, oblivious to the people around them. 

My mother used to scold my sister and me about our posture: “Raise up your shoulders!  Hold up your head!”  I wonder what Mama would say if she could see today’s wireless junkies.  She might try to give their slouched posture the benefit of the doubt, attributing their bowed heads to prayer in progress.  But then she would see the dance of the index fingers.  Slide up, slide down, tap, tap.  Slide, tap, slide, tap.  Tap, tap, tap, tap... 

Tapping, not talking.

Many in our modern world seem to have taken a vow of silence, preferring quiet communion with cyberspace to conversation with their fellow man.  In spite of my reputation for chatter I have no quibble with quietude.  Companionable silence with a dear one and the peace of a house devoid of noise are good things. 

What I don’t understand is turning away from the wonders of the world and the people who populate it in favor of Mozilla, Google, Outlook, Twitter, and Instagram.   Before the advent of wireless technology folks had to make the best of whatever situation in which they found themselves.  Consider a line in a grocery store.  Customers could choose to engage with the people around them, complaining about high prices or talking about the weather; study the tabloids at checkout, especially that article about the alien baby; or even talk to the cashier, who managed to smile in spite of the onslaught of shoppers.

(I must interrupt this even-tempered commentary with a rant.  I fume when I see people conduct an entire retail transaction without acknowledging the person behind the register.  I want to scream, “Were you raised by wolves?  That’s a human being in front of you, not an ATM with a pulse.”   We now return to our discussion in progress.)

When I go about my routine with my eyes wide open I stumble across countless stories:  The woman struggling to help aging parents, the elderly couple who met online traveling to a fresh start in Florida, the World War II veteran eager to talk.  I suppose it’s no coincidence that most of the people open to impromptu conversation are middle-aged or older.  There seems to be a relationship between youth and a strong attachment to electronic devices.   I’ll never forget visiting the National Archives and seeing two children playing with handheld video games as they stood before the Declaration of Independence.  (To be fair, I’ve also seen a middle-aged man surfing the Internet as our cruise ship sailed among Alaska’s glaciers.)

Although I don’t have a smartphone I am not blameless when it comes to inattention to the moment.  My blog’s mission statement at the top of this post is an ongoing resolution.  I wish I had spent less time taping my younger son’s band concerts and more time enjoying them.   I’ve missed conversations in progress because I was occupied with my responses or writing the next version of my to-do list.  I haven’t fully appreciated the beauty of a sunset over the ocean and clouds skimming over mountaintops because my mind was busy elsewhere.

If such inattention is a problem now, what will happen once we establish an all-but-psychic link to our machines?  Picture this:  You’re standing in your backyard, talking to your neighbor Ray about the high cost of living and whether the Nationals will win the pennant.  All of a sudden Ray’s eyes close, his lids flutter, and his sprinkler system comes to life.   A moment later he’s staring past you and smiling, and you realize he just got an update about the Capitals game.  He reengages in the conversation for a couple of minutes but then you see him swaying slowly; he must have downloaded that new song by country music’s latest guy with a hat.

At this point I’d ditch Ray and spend the rest of the day with a Labrador retriever.

I wrote last time that technology is a wonderful servant but a terrible master.   We must resolve to use machines and interact with people.  To do the opposite will lead us down a lonely path. 

What do you think?  Am I making valid points or are my concerns unfounded?  Could put aside your smartphone or tablet for a day?  Six hours?  I have a phone that is not smart: No Internet capability, no camera.  What do you think I’m missing?

I look forward to hearing from you.

(Next time: What would you say if your best friend got a tattoo?  “Cool!” or “What were you thinking?”  We’ll discuss both sides of the issue.)

Save the Whales!

A Moment’s Notice:

Striving for Awareness of Each Moment,

Reflecting on Events of the Moment

Consumers of science fiction know that the world will end with an apocalypse.  It’s just a question of what form the cataclysm will take:  Sentient machines overthrowing their makers, alien invasion, and the current favored contender, a virus/drug/weapon created by mad/evil/well-meaning scientists which turns your next door neighbor into a zombie or vampire.  (Maybe he’ll finally return your power washer before he gnaws off your arm.)

I’ve enjoyed sci-fi since Daddy and I huddled together on the couch to watch “Star Trek” on TV (the original series, the one where the captain had hair, thank you very much).  I should add that as a Christian I believe our planet’s current state of affairs will cease precisely when and how our Creator chooses.  Still, I think speculation about the end of the world and mankind’s involvement can be useful if it helps us steer clear of senseless unpleasantness.

This brings me to my soapbox du jour: Chips in our heads.  I’m not talking about the ones in the noggins of alien abductees or unfortunate incidents involving snack food but real honest-to-goodness computer interfaces in our brains.  In the New York Times blog “Bits” writer Nick Bilton describes how the Google Glass eyewear could respond to nonverbal communication such as a nod or wink.  But that’s just the beginning: 

But don’t expect these gestures to be necessary for long. Soon, we might interact with our smartphones and computers simply by using our minds. In a couple of years, we could be turning on the lights at home just by thinking about it, or sending an e-mail from our smartphone without even pulling the device from our pocket. Farther into the future, your robot assistant will appear by your side with a glass of lemonade simply because it knows you are thirsty.

Mr. Bilton refers to a report in the MIT Technology Review about research at Samsung’s Emerging Technology Lab.  Researchers there are working on tablets that can be controlled by a subject wearing an electrode-studded ski cap.  

The technology, often called a brain computer interface, was conceived to enable people with paralysis and other disabilities to interact with computers or control robotic arms, all by simply thinking about such actions. Before long, these technologies could well be in consumer electronics, too.

Okay, so far so good.  Who can argue with an advancement that would enable a man or woman who lost a limb in Iraq or Afghanistan to resume a semblance of a normal life?  But then, as always, things get sticky.

But the products commercially available today will soon look archaic. “The current brain technologies are like trying to listen to a conversation in a football stadium from a blimp,” said John Donoghue, a neuroscientist and director of the Brown Institute for Brain Science. “To really be able to understand what is going on with the brain today you need to surgically implant an array of sensors into the brain.” In other words, to gain access to the brain, for now you still need a chip in your head.

Mr. Bilton goes on to describe the probable evolution of this technology, which will include chip-free interfaces made possible by a complete map of the brain.  He quotes Miyoung Chun, a molecular biologist and vice president for science programs at the Kavli Foundation, about the future of conversations between man and his machines: 

“The Brain Activity Map will give hardware companies a lot of new tools that will change how we use smartphones and tablets,” Dr. Chun said. “It will revolutionize everything from robotic implants and neural prosthetics, to remote controls, which could be history in the foreseeable future when you can change your television channel by thinking about it.”

(You can read Mr. Bilton’s entire column at http://bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/04/28/disruptions-no-words-no-gestures-just-your-brain-as-a-control-pad/ )  

Imagine a future where channel surfing requires nothing more than thinking.  Back in the ancient days my family had access to four television networks: NBC, ABC, CBS, and PBS.  If we wished to switch from one to the other we had to walk over to the television set and turn a knob.  We didn’t skip between shows during commercials because that extra effort wasn’t worth it.  Come to think of it, I don’t remember my folks ever watching any network other than NBC.

Now I can access more than 200 channels just by pushing the buttons on my remote.  (Whether there’s anything worth watching is a topic for another day.)  I’m writing this post on my laptop and when I’m finished I could go online to shop the clearance “aisles” at a favorite store.  If I start to wonder about the location of Kazakhstan I don’t have to retrieve the “K” volume of the encyclopedia from the shelf; I’ll ask Mr. Google.

I think I gained five pounds just writing that paragraph.

Technology can be a wonderful servant, but it is a terrible master.  If we don’t handle this next wave with care we won’t have to wonder if extinct creatures can be resurrected a la Jurassic Park; we’ll become wooly mammoths ourselves.  Thin won’t be in anymore, because the owners of the latest toys will be known by their girth.  Call it Revenge of the 500-Lb. Man.  Piano-size caskets all around.

Of course, the Wizards of the New might solve this problem by replacing food with pellets that provide just enough nutrition to keep our sedentary bodies functioning.  No Chick Fil A Waffle Fries, no chocolate ice cream, no chili dogs, no grits, no butterbeans, no fried okra. Oh, the horror!

As grim as this speculation may be, I think it pales in comparison to my other concern about brain-computer interfaces.  I’ll deal with that next time.