Postcards From IRL

postcardA friend recently sent me a postcard from her overseas trip. The card reached me long after I’d seen her photographs on Facebook. By the time it arrived, she was back home in Washington DC. Still, I was delighted to receive the handwritten note. The thing about Facebook posts is that they’re broadcast to everyone. The postcard was personal, a note to say that she’d thought of me. It wasn’t necessary, and I didn’t expect that she’d have me on her mind as she was enjoying a vacation with some other friends. So the fact that she’d taken the time to send a personal note felt dear. Personal connections like these feel especially meaningful in the digital age. Sure, emails can be wonderful, but they can also be cut and pasted. Handwriting, well, it’s one of a kind. Just like my dear friend.

I’ve always loved postcards and hand-written letters, and thinking of about why reminded me of a post I published back in 2012 about what we’ve lost in the digital cloud. It’s reprinted below.

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The Last Word

18054254285_05cad8102d_k (1)June 8 – 12, 2015

Cameron got so discouraged about California’s annual June Gloom that she went back and revisited an old one; at least she has something to talk to the neighbors about.

You know those maps on which you place little markers that show where you’ve been?  Helen says the markers should really be lines, like spider silk, you could follow forward and backward and stay everlastingly connected.

Christie is on a tear.  Is there any reason on God’s earth why electronics last such a short time? or why they never seem to be fixable? or why the manufacturers who determine these rules shouldn’t take responsibility for recycling the ailing ones?

I remain obsessed with choosing between beauty and truth and in my line of business, I’d better choose truth.  But when truth is too complicated for my slack, inadequate neurons, then what the hell, I’ll choose beauty.

Jenny’s trying to do to her innards what yogurt does to milk.  It sounds a tiny bit iffy.  It certainly sounds onerous.  It also sounds soothing.

Getting Cultured

1024px-Forks_and_spoons_(8164518682)Recently, I’ve been making my own yogurt.

I’m on one of those annoyingly limited diets, trying to get my messed-up gut to cooperate. I can’t have many of the things I love. Noodles. Huge pieces of bread slathered with butter (and then one more piece even though it’s going to spoil my dinner). Cereal—not even oatmeal, so Captain Crunch is definitely out of the question. Muffins with Skittles on top (or without). Anything with flour. Milky things. Feta cheese. That sweet-tart powder that comes in a pouch with a little white candy stick that you lick and dip. Rice. ‘Taters. Chocolate. I can use a little honey if I need sweetener, and I can put almond milk in my coffee. (Lesson: No honey in coffee. Terrible.) Almost all fruits and veggies are fine, as are meat and fish and hard cheese, plus most nuts. And bone broth. I’m supposed to make and eat bone broth. (It’s made with chicken or beef bones, you sicko.)

But I’m already pretty tired of the “legal” foods. I constantly want to break the rules. Because my sweet tooth is the size of my head.

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Truth vs. Beauty, Again

18054254285_05cad8102d_k (1)I haven’t got much on my mind today that I want to think about so I distract myself with pictures. This one, as science pictures often do, conflates beauty and truth and let me repeat, beauty.  It’s a result of letting the Hubble Space Telescope take repeated pictures of a single cluster of galaxies.  Clusters are like families of galaxies, bound together by gravity.  I could go on for a long time about clusters but in a way I’m more interested in this picture on account of a personal belief that if you have to choose between truth and beauty, you should choose truth. Continue reading

The Tyranny of Planned Obsolescence

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The post has taken me entirely too much time to write. Not because I’m procrastinating or writing slowly, but because I’m being held hostage by the spinning beach ball of death. I bought my current iMac in early 2011, which means that enough time has elapsed that the Apple Care warranty I purchased with it has expired and nothing works quite right any more. I’ve spent inordinate amounts of time seeking solutions in online forums, to no avail.

I generally avoid software updates on older machines, but when it was no longer possible to write 200 words without lobbing a string of expletives at the computer, I upgraded to a newer operating system. If anything, this just made the computer slower. In desperation, I reformatted the hard drive and reinstalled the operating system, which helped not at all.

The body of my iMac is practically brand-new. The screen is beautiful, it’s only the guts that need upgrading. It seems tragic and wasteful that I can’t just replace a few of the internal parts.

I wish it was just the computer, but my four-year-old iPhone 4 has also become almost unbearable. It’s slow to respond to the touchpad, and it regularly freezes when I try to move from one app to another. But the body is still in perfectly good shape and I don’t really want to get another phone. Why can’t Apple make devices that last? These are the tools of my profession, so I can easily justify (and deduct) the expense of replacing them, but it makes my stomach churn to think about turning these devices into toxic heaps of garbage. Continue reading

The Lies Maps Tell

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I’m fascinated by those maps of places people have visited. You know the ones. Mine is below. You can make your own to show how much of the world you’ve traveled, or haven’t. There’s an element of bragging – why, yes, I have been to New Zealand, the Middle East, and more than one country in Africa.

But what’s so interesting about them is the lies they tell. That vast swath of red, drifting north from the U.S.-Canada border and all the way off the top of the map? The places I’ve actually been in Canada are Vancouver Island and southern Ontario. If you spend a few days in Saint Petersburg, Russia lights up from the Gulf of Finland to the Kamchatka Peninsula, the same as if you’d crossed seven time zones on the Trans-Siberian Railway, or, for that matter, lived your entire life in Irkutsk. Continue reading

Redux: June Gloom

It’s Monday. And it’s June. And it’s gloomy. Or maybe it’s just that I’m gloomy about our recent oil spill and I can’t quite figure out how to write about it. So here’s a post that ran in June 2012 about June Glooms past. 

5830140124_e5a6679df1I used to think the weather was something adults talked about because they were boring. And now that’s me, commiserating with neighbors about the state of our sky, which gave us a glorious, bluebird May and then rolled out a thick cloud carpet on the first day of June.

June Gloom isn’t just a Southern California phenomenon, and it doesn’t only happen in June. But perhaps we give it a name (and May Gray, and, in dire situations, No-sky July and Fogust) because we complain about it the most. The response from an Oregonian friend who visited this week: “Talk to the hand.” Continue reading

The Last Word

shutterstock_276125714June 1 – 5, 2015

The wind in the Columbia River Gorge is not the kind that garners fame with its own poetic name, but Michelle thinks of it as the secret wind of the desert. I look at the Yellowstone to Yukon Conservation Initiative and what it would mean for wolves and ungulates.

Sally’s lifelong fascination with forensic scatology finally finds an outlet on the streets of Barking, London. Erik consults his old friend William of Occam about Chinese traditional medicine and gets evasive answers.

Finally, guest writer Stephen Ornes weighs in on the John Bohannon sting debate.

Image: Shutterstock