Word has spread through my family about Lull. And perhaps without thinking about it, just as a way of making conversation, my mother told her mother that I have a blog now.
"What's a blog?" my grandmother asked.
My mother didn't know.
I said I'd explain it in a letter; my mother said don't bother. It's too complicated for my grandmother to understand. But I think Mother underestimates her.
My grandmother is 97, no longer watches television or reads (her eyes and ears are failing), and doesn't participate in the community events at her nursing home. She lives in a world apart from ours—ours of the incessant communication variety. A letter to her requires 20 point type and stories that don't require much exposition.
At first I noodled on how to explain a blog to her. It seemed straightforward and with a few hand drawings, I believed I could get the point across.
But then I realized a minor gap in her technology experience. She hasn't worked in an office since the Olivetti days. She missed out on electric typewriters, fax machines, and conference calls. She knows her grandchildren have cellphones that drop her calls more than half the time. She knows they work on computers but has no understanding of what that means. Technology is alien to her and not to be trusted. So I've got some explaining to do to bring her up to date.
It gives one pause, though, doesn't it? To think about the technology that we so often take for granted. Even I'm of an age that predates the fax machine and have vivid memories of the first time I had to send one at work. It was laborious then and never aided in getting a decision out of our consultant any faster than a FedEx package did.
It's a pity that my grandmother doesn't have a blog. Just reading her reminiscences could be a fascinating window into another era. I suspect future nursing homes, if they still exist, will have to be equipped with computers or computing devices so Millennials and their descendants can stay plugged in. This makes me smile.
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