I was watching the Olympics, on TV, and minding my own business, when two women, rode up Samron Rd on bicycles and I heard, “Hello the house — anybody here?”
Our friends Sarah and Maylynn came to visit. They didn’t call first! They just dropped in!
What a delight! They were most welcomed!
I paid no mind to the dishes in the sink or the dog toys on the stairs. Friends are more important than the state of the house. Plus, they came to see us, not the unmade bed.
The practice of dropping in on neighbours or friends has gone by the wayside. I miss it. I notice, people don’t make plans with each other any more. What I hear instead, is — I’ll text you, or call me when you are close.
It’s a game Ken and I don’t play.
We don’t text and don’t have the ability or interest to learn how. We’ve made the decision not to join the constant and perhaps, convenient, hand held, connection with the world.
I know it’s a pain in the butt for others. Our realtor hated us last year for not texting. At times, it is a pain in the butt for us too, but we don’t care.
Ken missed out on some birthday attention from his brothers because we don’t text. I seethed unknowingly. Three days later, they called our land line and wished him well. This is when we learned they hadn’t forgotten him — they texted birthday wishes. Where and how is still a wonder to me, but I take solace that he was thought of.
Don’t get me wrong, we are connected in some ways. We turn our computers on almost everyday. Okay, Ken doesn’t, but I do.
I like email, Skype, and Facebook but, we haven’t made the leap into serious cell phone land, (not even for the camera). The phone in the kitchen is the one we use. Yes, we have little flip phones that we bought when our parents lives were ending, but they haven’t been turned on in a while.
All this to say – If you find yourself in our neighbourhood, please, feel free to drop in! If we are home — you are most welcome. If we aren’t home — sorry we missed you, please stop by another time.
I know we are walking a fine line between keeping up with the times and falling into the old trap of not wanting to learn new fangle ways. I have learned to yell “you kids quit looking for pokeman* on my lawn!”
For now, I don’t see the need to keep up. Maybe when they start putting chips in everyone’s ear, we’ll join in. For now — Feel free to drop in on us. We’re usually sitting on the deck drinking tea!
*I don’t know what a pokeman is.