When A
Crisis Isn’t A Crisis Is A Crisis
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Back when people first began using
e-books, I guess that is what one calls them, my daughter, Shea, said, “Mom,
you are such a voracious reader. You should get one of these. You’d like it.”
“And lose the visceral pleasure of a
book made from trees? The thickness of the cover, whether hard or soft? The
texture of the pages? The smell of ink? The smell of a new book? Or old? The
satisfaction of physically turning the pages? Being able to write in the
margins should I choose? Lose the sacredness
of a book?
No, thank you. I can’t imagine life
without real books.”
Then one day I moved to Mexico, left
behind my extensive library, and bought a Kindle Paperwhite e-reader, in
reverse order.
I read a lot. Not a day goes by
without reading. Reading is a piece of who I am and always has been. I remember
sitting on the floor at my Dad’s feet with the Sunday “funnies”, picking out
the words (I especially liked Pogo),
long before I started school.
By the time I was a sophomore I’d
read everything in the school library. Then I discovered the tiny but crammed
city library, up narrow stairs above the old Civic Center building in Harlem.
Wherever I lived, I had the library.
My children listened to me read stories
while they nursed. Now and then, once they were older, we all sat at the dinner
table with a book in hand while we ate. Those were special times, separate but
together, bonded with our individual passions.
Morning coffee tastes better with a
book. I water my plants, then sit and read a half hour. Trim and prune and
plant, stop and read. Hang laundry, mop the floor, get in a few more chapters.
So goes my day.
When I made the switch from paper,
it took about three days for me to get used to my Kindle reader, to make it an
extension of my skin. I still love books made from trees and occasionally read
one, but the Kindle is so handy. So
easy to use, so lightweight, so portable, so easy on my eyes. I named him
“Kin”. We became, well, intimate.
One day last week Kin up and died,
gave up the electronic ghost, expired, bit the dust, bought the farm, went
West, kicked the bucket, assumed room temperature and closed the book.
I knew Kin wasn’t well. He seemed to
suffer a general feeling of malaise. He became sluggish, difficult to open,
paused overlong before turning a page. He didn’t respond to electronic CPR. His
condition quickly accelerated. Kin refused to open at the last page read but
insisted on reading over two previous chapters while at the same time refusing
to go beyond a certain page. E-book Alzheimer’s. Finally, he simply refused to
open at all. The End.
I had logged a lot of hours with my
friend, my constant companion, my solace in times of trouble. May he rest in
peace.
I did what any self-respecting
reader would do. Panicked.
Once I got my breathing, pulse,
heart rate, blood pressure and imagination under control, I ordered a new
reader, he whom I shall call Kin II.
I tried to ship Kin II to friends in British Columbia who are
arriving in Etzatlan in a few days. Turns out I can only have it shipped to the
States. I knew that. Ordering from another country is complicated. So I shipped
it to my daughter, Dee Dee, post haste, spare no expense. Time is crunched,
remember.
“Daughter, I have an emergency.” I explained, asked her to
relay it on to my friends the moment the package showed up in her rural eastern
Montana mailbox. “Send it express.”
Meanwhile my Canadian friends sold their home, frantically
packed and moved to temporary digs in preparation for their eventual move to
Mexico but that is a year in the future. Meanwhile, their address is no longer
their address. “Send it to Richard’s office,” directed Kathy. “If the package
is delayed, we’ll pick it up on our way to the airport.” Best case scenario, right?
We all are laughing at me. I know full well this is not a
real crisis. It’s a small inconvenience.
Meanwhile I am re-reading a few favorites in old-fashioned
paper book form, the few real books I brought with me.
When I meet my friends at the airport in Guadalajara, I shall
rip Kin II out of Kathy’s clutches and embrace him like a lover.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
June 16,
2016
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