WORLDS GONE TO ETHER

 

A dear friend told me more than ten years ago that her physical bookshelves were emptying. For reasons of space saving, she had gone from squeezing in more volumes to replacing them with eBooks. She’s an avid reader, for whom books are not an occasional pastime or a distraction. Books are her passion.

 

 Mind you, she’s also a librarian.

 

The day a librarian is giving up her stacks of physical paper books is also the day our reality has moved to the ethernet.

 

That day is almost here.

 

Has your bank been imploring you to forgo paper statements? Have your utility companies stopped sending paper bills and even offered discounted bills if you go to “autopay?” Has your doctor been sending medical test orders to the lab virtually, no paper orders anywhere? Have your plane/train/bus tickets gone to an app on your phone with no paper backup needed?

 

You know what I’m saying.

It saves some trees. Hooray. It also saves space. It moves records of reality from our physical spaces to another realm, one that is microscopic by comparison.

 

This post from some months ago got me thinking about my post today. Even traditional publishers have realized the precious space of weatherized warehouses need not be, because POD books (Print On Demand) have become indistinguishable in quality and will do for those who like to hold a physical paper book. They print a physical book only after it’s ordered and paid for/sold.

 

Despite the title of this post, it is not about the afterlife. It is about the digital world replacing the physical in many spheres. This leaves more room for us, wretched creatures, while we’re still inhabiting the physical.

YOU WILL LAUGH, EVENTUALLY

 

Some months back, my trusty old computer stopped functioning. I learned that I shouldn’t trust a machine, which had the audacity to take with it much of the functionalities I had built in to suit the way I work, and many of my contacts.

 

I didn’t lose any work, because I had my files and photos backed up on a USB drive. Setting a second computer properly took time and this computer is not yet up to the one that was.

 

I can look back now, and see that I survived. There are (much) worse things.

 

But, at that time, I felt so lost and disconnected that I lamented to DD how I long for the innocent days of my childhood, when connecting meant seeing someone in person or writing a snail mail letter.

 

Her response, pasted here from Messenger (my phone worked):

“…Do you miss your boyhood in surrey, romping with your school chums in the fens and spinneys?”

And then she sent this link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?fbclid=IwAR1dU0AIpsn42MFtviaSRQhaDPb2Kjl2sSfGP9AaCuQ1AZcrkEKiJS-Cmk8&v=PM8WPZtnBAw&feature=youtu.be

 

It’s a brilliant section from an old episode of Frasier, a TV show we used to watch when she was but a youth. Her comment was a quotation from one of the characters in it, and her pointed reflection on the uselessness of nostalgia for “simpler times.”

 

I laughed. It made a difference.

 

Eventually, we laugh at so many things we had experienced as important.

There’s no point in lamenting what isn’t anymore.

 

Meanwhile, back up your computers, everyone.

Digital Life and Death

 

’Tis a truth, which should be universally acknowledged, that life and death on this earth does not parallel life and death in the digital realm. (Apologies to Jane Austen)

 

I have Facebook friends who passed away. Their Facebook pages and timelines still live. I have blogging friends I had followed whose blogs had died, but I happen to know the blog owners are very much alive.

 

Many of my posts on this blog are scheduled ahead. In the event that I leave this earth, posts will continue to appear for a time. The only hint that I’m no longer here would be the complete lack of comments, as I moderate all comments and will no longer be there to do so. (Hint: if you want to check my earthly pulse, just comment 😉)

 

On people search sites I found my parents and other dearly departed people continuing to age. Apparently, these sites, which make their fortunes collecting public data on all of us, can’t bother to scour records of death.

 

Strange worlds we live and die in; two parallel timelines that only partially intersect.