THE END OF CONVERSATION AS WE KNEW IT....?

A series of essays....

SADLY, THE NEW ERA OF PERSONAL COMMUNICATION

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

I know. If you have been an avid reader of mine, you might believe that I harp on this topic more often than I should. But, if I were asked what my biggest pet peeve was....my answer would be encapsulated within the picture above. 

Every now and then I like to go back through some of my pictures with the understanding of why they had been taken in the first place and then write a story about it. This particular picture sent out alarm bells and bright red, flashing lights back when taken, and still does for me today!

May I suggest you zoom in on these four individuals and then, kindly, continue reading.

We are looking at a mother and daughter sitting side-by-side on the left and a middle-aged, married couple, allowing a bit more space between one another, to the right. Each set of participants appears to be waiting for something to happen. Something more exciting than what I am witnessing while seated across the room from them. 

The scene above was taken on June 6, 2014, in the entrance to the chain restaurant TGI Fridays, but could apply to so many instances today. As most of us have observed, this scenario has become more typical everywhere you look, especially as technology becomes notably embraced by everyone!

Dan and I had recently begun the demolition required in our outdated kitchen while living at 1648 Morgan’s Mill Circle in Florida and, with life inundated by chaos and hunger, we decided to go out for a burger on a Saturday afternoon. Any given Saturday in Orlando can be jam-packed with humans resembling worker ants attempting to complete their complicated tasks such as foraging and taking care of the youth. We desperately needed a respite from rehab and an opportunity to fill our tummies.

People watching and communicating with others are two of my favorite pastimes. Considering we had to wait a short while to be seated, we utilized our downtime to unwind, exchange stories about our children and grandchildren up in Michigan, and strategize about how best to use our time productively the rest of the weekend. Together, we had experienced the ‘weekend warrior’ routine two years earlier while remodeling our Master Bath/Closet and knew how important following a good plan would be.

The foyer of this particular TGI Fridays restaurant was comparatively small, just big enough to allow several people to sit comfortably and escape a summer shower, if need be. The six of us occupying this enclosed anteroom were handed a small, black, plastic square per couple and told it would light-up as the next table became available. 

The six of us occupying the hollowed space created an unusual sense of quietness after several minutes when Dan and I curbed our own conversation after realizing our softened voices echoed back and forth across the tiny room. As we sat comparing notes in whispered tones on our side of the space, it was apparent that absolute silence prevailed on the opposite side.

What was each person accomplishing while caught-up in their own little world? 

Were they texting friends, checking their messages, deleting unnecessary emails, or determining the score of one of many sporting events happening that particular afternoon? 

With quiet keyboards, there wasn’t even the sound of ‘clicking’ to stir-up the atmosphere. We were witnessing the complete lack of enjoyment of verbal interaction with one another. Exchanging human contact via words and smiles was substituted with cyber interfacing instead. With minds compartmentalized by their own devices, mother and daughter, husband and wife sat silently while deep within their own private worlds....for a very long time.

Slowly sliding my own iPhone from the small, inside pocket of my purse, I decided I needed to capture the moment. My cautiousness stemmed from the fear of disturbing one of them or embarrassing myself by being so blatant about taking their picture. I needn’t have worried; my precautionary intent towards their privacy was totally lost on all four of them! Not an eye blinked (not that I could even see their eyes) or an eyebrow raised during the making of this photo.

I began picking-up on the specific body language of each of my subjects. Each face lacked expression, the lips were straight and pressed tightly together, and all eyes were downcast and seemingly closed. The old adage that if you cross your arms over your chest it symbolizes that you are silently protecting yourself from negative vibes or words tossed at you by others. It most definitely applied here. Something was surely ‘crossed’ on each one of them....with mother and daughter sporting the more painful leg-over-leg position while my Billy Joel lookalike and his wife, a bit more cautious, with only their ankles being modestly crossed.

Suddenly, buzzing waves of sound vibrated from across the room and bright red lights began to pierce the moment sending their glow up the back of the cool, black Naugahyde bench. Billy Joel and his wife were being summoned, not by a human voice, but by the small, plastic square device equipped with its red running lights. Like robots programmed to respond (Pavlov would have enjoyed this exchange) the couple entered the restaurant to be seated. I could only hope that their Internet reception proved even better once inside. If not, who knows, an actual conversation might have to be exchanged between them while eating lunch!

Not surprisingly, my mother/daughter team failed to even look up when married couple exited the same bench. I don’t know what happened next with them because Dan and I were being summoned by our own flashing red lights.

Progress is usually and hopefully a good thing as its definition suggests. It implies moving forward through development, growth, and improvement. When progress impedes eye-to-eye contact and the enjoyment of personal relationships and communication between human beings, I believe we are moving in the opposite direction of progress...and that is, most definitely, backwards.

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

I DON'T KNOW IF....

A series of essays....

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

I don’t know if I have the energy anymore, both physically and mentally, to wake-up smiling. I feel like a person taking too many drugs and having them interact in a very negative way with my body. I know a little bit about this. My father took what seemed like fifty pills a day, all prescribed by his doctors. It wore him down so much that I often wonder if the drug interaction was more harmful than the physical ailments he was taking them for. Most likely, they were.

I don’t know if 45 is reaching his goal of wearing down our defenses by creating, not only a world of MAGA zombies, but a population of good people who tried but failed at making him go away. I do know that everyday he remains in office, our less than perfect society becomes even less perfect and we find ourselves digging out of an ever deepening hole.

***AS OF ONE O'CLOCK P.M. ON MONDAY, JUNE 17, 2019***

I don’t know if I can tolerate another 582 days under 45’s spitefully jealous and sadistic regime.

I don’t know if survival is even an option anymore.

I don’t know if the world, as we thought we knew it to be, will ever be that way again. When I think of the Holocaust, the mass murder of Jews under the German Nazi regime during the period between 1941 and 1945 when more than 6 million European Jews, as well as members of other persecuted groups, were murdered at concentration camps such as Auschwitz, I think of change. I think of the survivors who were changed forever and their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren and how they must always claim the horror, terror, and nightmares associated with such a burning and cleansing of the European population of Jews and their supporters; lest we ever forget the blistering inhumanity and narcissism of even one individual right here in our own lifetime.

I don’t know if the Jews can ever truly forgive the United States for not offering them the mental and physical relief of sanctuary while so many of them were being put to death. The U.S. had a long-standing restrictionist policy on immigration specified in The Immigration Act of 1924. It set the standards for immigration quotas to the U.S. that limited total immigration to about 164,000 people per year and was designed to “protect” America from “undesirables” including Jews, Asians, and Africans. This excuse is Not Good Enough...! This could never happen again in the new millennium ~ not in 2019! Certainly, we’ve become wiser, more understanding, and loving people by now! Didn’t the Hitler/Nazi regime teach us anything?

I don't know if giving-up on our freedom and all of the basic principals that this great nation was initially built upon is even an option. 

I don’t know if greedy, amoral people will ever be able to change, especially when money, power, and the evil extracted by having too much of each can take a basic fool and turn him into a believer in his own 'godlike stature' which, in his mind, includes power, physical beauty, and magnanimity for the rich....those for whom he deems worthy of it.

I don't know if I fear the greed-based tactics employed by 45 more than the detrimental, life altering maneuvers of a soulless Addison Mitchell McConnell Jr.  

I don’t know if changes can be made within our constitutional laws, rules, or regulations to help protect us in the future from the sheer abuse of power reflected in 45’s corrupt regime.

I don’t know if there is a kinder future...at least, a future familiarized by the essence of faith, hope, love, trust, and freedom. I don’t know about you, but I’ve become gun-shy over the past few years. To experience first-hand the hatred, divisiveness, and abject cruelty of others within our society without much relief, how could I not?

I don't know if I'm in like or strong dislike of Robert Mueller right now. 

I don’t know what is in store for all of us. However, my hope is that decency for the moral standards of life and genuine respect for others have not been indefinitely tarnished by the lowest standards represented in Washington D.C. today. I do believe that there remains enough of us who truly care about maintaining a higher ground of morality and will always fight tooth and nail to keep it that way. 

Author’s Note: Facts regarding the Holocaust are according to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum.

BUT THE GREATEST OF THESE IS LOVE

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

NOSTALGIA: TRIGGERING THE PAST

A series of essays and photos....

WALKING BACK HOME UNDER MY FAVORITE TREE

....as seen through my eyes!

BY: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Taking pictures is one of the best ways of capturing the moment, preserving a piece of the present in order to, eventually, define the past. 

PRESENT?

PAST?

We all take them, especially given the convenience of Smartphones, and we all look at them after the fact. Each one of us will process our pictures in a very personal way. Taking a selfie and texting it to your friends may define our personality and lifestyle. A particular snapshot or video of a furry friend, a frightening mishap, or a mishap involving a furry friend may go viral and be seen by millions if we choose to utilize the power of social media! A photo taken of a mountain landscape, a trip to the county fair, or of you seated between your grandparents during a summer picnic might evoke or trigger childhood memories of other trips, relatives, and locations.

THESE ROCKS ARE LOVED AND
APPRECIATED FOR THEIR BEAUTY 

HEARING STORIES ABOUT
THE FARM'S HISTORY

Each time our friends invite us to stay a night or two at their farm near Jackson, Michigan, it never fails to surprise me just how instrumental their homestead is in triggering the past for me. Dan and I go there to enjoy the great company and hospitality Jan and Fred provide. We nourish ourselves with good food and conversation and take long and leisurely walks along country roads, farm lanes, and sun dappled wooded paths. Playing a few friendly yet competitive games of Spinner, the game of wild dominoes, might be in order while sitting at the wooden game table near the large picture window overlooking the expansive fields to the south.

 

ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL DAY ON THE FARM!

Slipping our Smartphones into a pocket of choice right before a walk ensures our connection with the outside world (specifically our children and grandchildren) and allows us to chuck out the present for a walk down memory lane. I recall a time when cousins giggled while running through gigantic corn stalks playing a game of tag, and curious ‘little ones’ followed grandma, basket in hand, to the chicken coop to collect breakfast eggs. Grandpa would follow behind us to make certain we were careful as we rambunctiously ran to the ‘old barn’ to jump from lofts into bales of hay stacked on the barn’s floor.

ANGLED FENCE POSTS
LADEN WITH CHARACTER!

Life is simple and curiously exciting when you’re a child spending time at your grandparent’s farm!

Life can be relaxing and curiously exciting when spending time with good friends at their farm!

By the time the four of us make it out under the lattice arch that leads into the barnyard and outbuilding areas, I catch my breath while engaging in the first glimpse of the tall oak tree living on the lane that leads us back into the deep, dark woods. Her new leaves waving at us in the springtime breeze is like observing a dazzling gateway to a kinder, gentler world. She is one of the main reasons I pluck my iPhone from my jacket pocket and begin lining up the first photograph from our walk. 

WILDFLOWERS ALONG
THE PATH

CROPS FROM ANOTHER TIME

CAPTURING A MOMENT

KEEPING IN THE SHEEP

Then there are.... Angled fence posts laden with age and character, piles of stones newly released from their sandy loam depths, and colorful wild flowers being kissed by the bees. 

ROCKS, ROCKS...EVERYWHERE!!

MORE BEE BUTTS

So many pictures are taken in such a short amount of time! They are, undeniably, my triggers to a flood of beautiful memories that are sometimes misplaced...but, never truly forgotten.

 

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

Photo copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

ANOTHER BRANCH HAS FALLEN FROM THE GRACEFUL MAPLE TREE

A series of essays....

THE BEAUTIFUL MAPLE TREE
STANDING STRAIGHT AND TALL

....as seen through my eyes!

A personal tribute to my friend and mentor, Danna Ephland

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Move aside my fragrant Eastern White Pine standing tall among the mighty Michigan old-growth forests, symbol of peace, lending credence to being the most widely utilized and sought after species within the various forest growths of the Northwest. You are a tough act to follow. Nevertheless, my free thinking, five-year-old self will always remember the true heroes from her Midwestern childhood.

Two graceful maple trees stood guard in front of our rental home in South Bend, Indiana. My Mother said they were there to be tall and elegant, help to buffer the sound of the busy boulevard we lived on, and protect us while Dad was away for work during the week. They soon became my friends and favorite trees.

Yes, they were surely female entities, distinctive living creatures, curved and stately soldiers never abandoning their honorable posts with their untiring arms stretched out to protect us day and night. Donning massive headpieces, soldier’s helmets of green and silver that became animated in the slightest breeze, they could sway and dance all day to the music of the moving vehicles with mechanical notes calibrated in random beeps and honks.

They may have had names back then; that particular memory has long slipped away. 

Sitting for hours on the paint-chipped, wooden steps of the small front porch, it was so easy to become mesmerized by these beautiful ladies. Well fed brown squirrels traveled the tree's abundant hardwood highway system and their chatter echoed while they stopped at major intersections along their route. Robins felt safe building precious nests among the crooks of their strong, slender arms, high above street level. The maples never competed for the most action happening between one another because nature always felt comfortable harboring within either one; both trees fulfilling their job as refuge, shelter, sanctuary, retreat, and port in a storm.

And there were storms.... One does not live in ‘tornado alley’ or near the lake-effects spawned by Lake Michigan and not experience them. Midwestern storms are a parody of life itself. Maybe I didn’t realize this as a child way back when, but the tornado that swept through the neighborhood several blocks to the north of us one spring afternoon awakened my senses, grasped my full attention, and changed my life forever.

By the time the debris had settled and the sun shone back upon our little community, tears of grief for the victim’s homes and innocent joy for the safety of our own flowed abundantly. In my own mind, the safety I’d once known would be forever altered. Life had taken its twists and turns and mocked the security I once knew and replaced it with the symbolic death of what was once a solid element of my young life.

The first time I met Danna was my first day of poetry class last fall. Having arrived early, she and I had time to properly introduce ourselves to one another and I recall falling instantly under the spell of her gracious smile and warm personality. It was as though we’d known one another for years. Not knowing exactly what to expect from the class, she had a way of settling my nerves in order to draw me into the fold. I was smitten by her kindness; captivated by her knowledge and intelligence. Danna’s love for her craft and ability to infuse her knowledge within others so seamlessly, contributed to her expert teaching ability and brought out the very best in all of her students. 

As the classes proceeded, Danna became my mentor and helped guide me back into a life of poetry, something I’d nearly abandoned years before. I had found a mighty maple tree in the form of this vivacious, petite woman whose smile could launch a thousand ships....and, most likely has. 

I would quickly learn to nest comfortably in the crook of her knowledge and rest high above the ground by balancing the ups and downs of my life, the twists and turns of my small world within the poetic lines of the many female poets Danna introduced us to, as well as my own re-emerging sounds of indefinite instead of definite pleasure. The opportunity to delve into Danna’s own works of poetry was another highlight in getting to know her as a person, a poet, and as a friend.

I knew of Danna’s illness going in to meet her. The ability to stay strong and think positively about it was due to her guidance and perseverance. Mighty maple trees have a tendency to do this. She was able to dance to the melodic notes of positivity and instructed her seedlings to do the same. After periods during which maple trees experience stress, such as a harsh winter, they can grow a greater number of seed pods.....and, we seedlings, helicopters, whirlers, whirligigs, and samaras danced to her music and twirled down from the mother plant to land firmly and solidly into the ground.

SAMARA: KEY FRUIT OF THE MAPLE TREE

Our fall class was to be completed at the end of October, into the early part of November at the latest. Our mighty maple tree pushed herself to accommodate us even as her poor body was working against her. She managed to spread out our classes enough to fulfill her lesson plan and listen to all of our works in progress or completed. Danna enjoyed life, her work, the pleasure of passing her knowledge and love on to family, friends, and students, to shade and protect us by wrapping us in her strong, slender branches and watch us thrive.

After learning of her evening passing nearly two Saturdays ago, I experienced an interesting vision. Running up from the basement after the horrific storm as a child, and pounding my white sneakers through the brush and debris left behind by the powerful winds, I rushed to the front of our house to find that my two graceful maple trees were still standing guard over us. Many of their striking leaves thickly blanketed the wet grass below but our little, white bungalow was intact with the exception of a shingle or two, along with one broken limb that pushed itself into the soft ground of our front yard. The underbelly of my maples proved vulnerable. A part of one of them lay at my feet and I began to run away as quickly as my small feet would allow. That's when I realized I was crying.

Many people have influenced my life, for better or worse, since that fateful tornado. And, hopefully, children do grow-up learning how to weather the storm, even out the playing field, and cope with the inevitable. Danna brings these lessons home simply by living the best life she possibly could live, fighting the good fight, imparting her wisdom on to others, loving her son beyond anything else, while demonstrating that the example of her own vulnerability is her legacy of strength and gracefulness.

The silver maple is a graceful, fast-growing type of maple tree that does best planted in moist locations away from buildings because they do tend to drop their branches. Recently, another branch has fallen from the mighty maple tree. The spirit and strength of this graceful tree will live on indefinitely through beautiful souls like our dear friend and mentor, Danna Ephland. You are my teacher.....and, I will always remain your humble student. 

You are so missed.

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved