If you have heard the news, you are aware that Oprah's last show will air next Wednesday. It's odd for me to think of the fact that it will be over. You see, adults watched their favorite shows end as my generation was born. In turn, it is now my time to watch the popularity of shows completely change.
Oprah was one of the only talk shows I have ever watched willingly (though not often). Her show was often life-changing for her guests. She helped people, she gave gifts, she brought secrets to light—she made dreams come true, with Disney finesse. We watched her battle with her weight from season to season, and she became more and more elaborate as the years progressed. Books rose to popularity at her word and Dr. Phil was introduced to the world. As she made her changes, my life changed. I grew older, I learned more, I found a goal for my life (maybe). However, in the back of my mind, I've always wanted to be on her show. I've wanted to accomplish something worthy enough to be aired on one of her shows, or at least sit in the audience once.
It seems that an appearance on her show is simply not in my fate. However, as Oprah ends its twenty-five year run, my mind can come up with nothing to take its place. Not just anyone can replace a woman who has spoken with celebrities, political figures, and the everyday person on the same level she did. As I raise my hat to Ms. Winfrey, I hope that no one tries to touch what she created. Now, I will simply have to wait for the next part of my childhood memories to vanish completely.
As children, we knew these two words would come up sooner or later. "Be patient," your guardian would say with obvious disgust. How could a child with no worries or responsibilities be impatient? they thought to themselves. The very idea! However, despite the idea that one should learn to be patient, hardly anyone is patient.
City folk already have a reputation for being notoriously impatient, toe-tapping, gum-chewing, watch-checking, heavy-sighing, hands-on-hips, no-nonsense people. Yet despite the stigma, I know many patient city dwellers (including myself). Surprisingly, the people that I have noticed with the least patience are those that have been here on earth longer than many others—that's right, I'm referring to our senior citizens.
Perhaps a lifetime of waiting has just worn out the elderly community. They have waited for so many things and people already (and seemingly only have death to wait for). Yet the elderly have an even worse situation to deal with—very rapid change. With all of the new, automated gadgets and programs, our grandparents have to learn things that are completely new to them.
Just tonight I went shopping for some baking supplies at my local Giant. It was actually quite busy within the store, but nothing extensive. Since I had checked out my items as I shopped, I opted for the self-checkout kiosks. Several other customers were already in line, and I queued up in the second lane. The people before me were having some issues, so I was just waiting and flipping through a Life magazine. Lo and behold, the elderly gentleman at the lane beside mine was having hard time checking out. He handled the situation completely wrong and I probably should have helped him (another blog post on that, I promise), but I thought it best to leave it up to the professionals. He wisely selected the help option on the screen and became upset when the associate did not come immediately (he was already pre-occupied with another customer). After huffing and puffing for about thirty seconds, he went and got the associate himself. Apparently, he was not happy with what the man told him, and he flung an innocent head of lettuce down the conveyor belt.
It was then that I thought to myself, "Good gosh, this man has the patience of a five-year old." Then, I immediately took that thought back. You see, we are always quick to say when a person is impatient. You know what I mean—the idiot that cut you off, the jerk that let the elevator doors close during peak hours although you were obviously indicating that you needed to board, the loser that jumps in front of you in line. However, when the shoe is suddenly on your foot, we have excuses for our behaviour.
As we hit hump day this week, try to consciously be patient. Breathe deeply, count to 100, do what it takes to stay calm. Patience may be a virtue, but it can be achieved with much practice.
For those of us that live in cities, we are aware of a population that is lumped into the term "homeless." I think that is an incorrect assumption. Over the course of the past two years, I have discovered that a better term for this population is "beggar." If you read the Bible or follow the idea of noblesse oblige, you will feel that it is your duty to help these people. They are less fortunate, they are in need—that is what we are taught believe.
However, they are not always those things. More often than not, beggars are not in their right mind, and they are addicted to drugs (or a combination of the two). Instead of giving to them, passersby flat out ignore them. When I was first hired in the city, the recession was going full force and many people were out of work. It was a hard time for everyone and I was only an intern making some odd dollars an hour.
It was during this time that I met Mike, a younger guy that sat outside of a convenience store near my workplace. He would ask for spare change every afternoon as if it were a full-time job. My mother has perhaps jaded me, but I don't believe in giving money to beggars. Instead, I would save carrot sticks or cookies from my lunch to give him. If I didn't have extra food, I would give sticks of gum. What began as, "Do you have spare change, ma'am?" became "Do you have any more gum, ma'am?" in a few short weeks.
I assumed that Mike couldn't find a job, and I pitied him because even though I was an intern, I had an income. However, as weeks turned into months and years, I have found that there is more to Mike than meets the eye. Like many other beggars, Mike does work. He is recovering from a drug problem, so his performance fluctuates, which affects how much work he gets—and that affects how much money he makes. He has a phone, he has a place to live, and he plays chess (he also has a girlfriend, which is a recent development). However, he needs additional money to make "ends" meet, by which I mean that he wants extra money.
Perhaps that is what causes me to categorize beggars differently than the homeless. It is because homeless people don't always beg for money. They are the ones that sleep between the doors of businesses to feel heat and cool air. They carry their belongings with them at all times and have a block that they call their stomping grounds. Even if offered a job, they would probably decline the opportunity in favor of the place where they feel comfortable. Being homeless is sometimes a lifestyle choice.
Both beggars and homeless people will accost you as you walk down any city street. Some of them make you feel threatened and others annoy you. Whichever extreme the person falls under, I no longer feel obligated to empty my pockets for them. Oftentimes, giving will find the beggar asking for more (or being picky about what you gave them). Instead, I will speak to them if addressed and continue on my way. When I walk down the street, I don't make a point of talking to everyone I encounter, so I just treat them the same as anyone else in the city. At the end of the day, we all have to live our lives—no one else's. So if you find yourself in the presence of a beggar, don't assume that they did not choose their current situation.
As eReaders become the choice of readers, I become more and more sad. There are several nice things about eReaders, don't get me wrong. I have one too! You can read while being jostled around a crowded Metro. No need to flip pages, so you are able to hold onto a pole. They are slim and fit in most any bag. Most eReaders have great cases and other accessories.
What is the problem, then? You wonder. Well, with this move to the digital book, there are at least three things that bother me:
- I can't lend my library to someone else. Being able to pass a book on to a friend when you finish it can fuel a later conversation. However, it isn't as easy with eReaders when you use it to read the books that you have saved on it.
- You lose the conversation. Have you ever spoken with someone simply because they saw the jacket of your book? At times, these small exchanges lead to even more book recommendations or a new friend.
- It's no longer personal. Having your own book makes it real and it makes it yours. You can write your name inside of it. You can doodle in the margins if you want (though that is not my preferred way to treat my own books). With things being digital, you don't have the same ownership. The book goes from being special to being another file on your computer's hard drive.
So, don't take this the wrong way. EReaders are helpful for many people and they come in handy often. Just don't forget that printed books save trees and start jobs. There is something about a book that I love and enjoy. What about you? Just how digital are you?
First of all, don't freak out, I'm not closing my blog or anything. I just wanted to talk about farewells. I have noticed that my friends differ on how they end telephone conversations with me. One friend was adamant about never saying "goodbye". She would say "see you later" instead even though we haven't met up in a few years. Other friends don't really say anything. The conversation just kind of fizzles into a "well...I'll talk with you later" or "enjoy the rest of your day" kind of deal.
It's not only an issue found in American conversation. In Germany, you can hang up saying "Aufwiederhoren" meaning "hear you later" or "Tshüß" meaning "bye". These distinctions are part of who we are, I think. People who don't happily say "goodbye" might be afraid of losing friends or acquaintances. I'm not sure, but I've noticed it a lot over the past few weeks. How do you react when some says "goodbye" to you? Is it fine? Are you upset? Do you say "goodbye"?
Considering that I spent last Thursday snowed in at my house, it was almost a relief to be going anywhere this morning. This brings me to my thought for this Thursday Traffic. Everyone always wants to get out of working. I know that they have their reasons—some hate their jobs, others hate their coworkers, some just hate the time they have to work—but it's interesting to see how people handle having "nothing" to do.
The two blizzards that passed across the East Coast have shown that people do not handle idleness well. Luckily, many kept their power, so they had access to all of their gadgets—cell phones, televisions, game consoles, laptops, computers, ovens, you name yet. No one had to go anywhere (it was actually encouraged that you didn't). What happened? People lost their minds. They needed to get outside. They had to "do" something. Doesn't it make you wonder how people now would fare in earlier days. Back in the day, the only thing that kept most people going was their imagination. What does that say about people today? Are they unimaginative? Yes, to a certain degree. People write wonderful books and the public awaits the movies instead of enjoying the written version for themselves. Despite having the materials to make something, most people would rather have other "creative" people handle the task.
You might say, "Well, you are obviously the 'creative' type." I have to ask what defines creative. People are creative in many ways. It's imagination that I wonder about. Every time I mention that I'm a graphic designer, people often say, "Wow, I can't even draw a stick figure." Is art (or design for that matter) confined to the ability to draw a stick figure? Is that some kind of test? Why can't people look past the stick figure and figure something out for themselves? So, maybe people are glad to be heading to work now that they have spent enough time by themselves—or with other people—stuck at home. Maybe they will take a moment to look and realize that they are capable of more than stick figures. Either way, time is so fleeting. Despite snow, disaster or death, it continues to move forward. Perhaps we will all decide to think of more imaginative ways in which to spend it.
Image via flickr/tod.ragsdale
