I saw the first lightning bug of the season. At first I thought I was imagining things, so of course I practically went blind from the strain of looking. But sure enough, he gave me another little flash and then he was gone.
I love them. It’s not like those little bugs are charming, or soft and cuddly. I mean, they’re bugs after all. Still, there’s something about them, along with honeysuckles, that makes me think of my childhood and the carefree days of summer vacations and community pools and yes, chasing bugs, barefoot, and capturing them in jars with holes poked in the lid.
If the smell of my childhood summers can be wrapped up in the scent of honeysuckles, then surely it would be illuminated by the lightning bugs — ethereal — mysterious –within reach, and yet…not.
On April 3rd, Apple is going to release its iPad and here I am contributing to their marketing plan and I’m not even going to buy one. I’m not going to say never, but if I were to be buying any Apple products, it would be to replace my stolen MacBook Pro. Yes. I said stolen, right out from under my nose. It resides in the boy’s bedroom across the hall these days.
But I digress. This little reflection is about my awful little flip phone that chirps like a Star Trek communicator. Every time I pop it open to take a call (I still do that) or attempt to text (nearly impossible—thank heavens for opposable thumbs) I have a giddy moment of Trekkie joy.
Every time. I’m not lying; it’s fleeting but true.
Lucky for me I am surrounded by Trekkies and Trekkers (you can follow the political debate about the names here), but over the years I have gone somewhat underground with my fangirl obsession. It’s not that I am ashamed of it, I just sadly realized that fewer and fewer of my students were getting the cultural references. Part of me feels that perhaps they are just living in silly little vacuums of ignorance, but my own children look at me funny when I suggest something reminds me of Trek, any Trek.
Except that maybe Chris Pine has done a lot for the franchise. They know who he is, but again, that’s just another distraction from my point isn’t it? See what I mean about being a fan? The mere thought of Star Trek sets me into ramble mode.
I was talking about my flip phone – the antique mess from Samsung. Yuck. Its only redeemable quality in this world of smart phones is my continued delusion that I am 8 years old and pretending to be on an away mission (in any color shirt but red, of course).
I may have to turn in the faux communicator for a real 21st century phone soon. Even when it was new it was a terrible phone, but I’m not in a great big hurry to get an iPhone or a Droid (if I tell myself that maybe I’ll believe it). I’ll miss flipping it open and cherishing that moment where life imitates art.
Of course, if they ever figure out how to turn my pretty gold brooch into a communicator, all bets are off.
Remember the mixed tapes of the 70’s and 80’s? We’d put together an eclectic collection of music, sending our crush a message of undying love with the crazy and mix-matched sounds of our teen-aged angst? I guess the iPod and iTunes revolutionized that idea, but for me those old cassettes are a symbol of a commitment to expression that is unrivaled by today’s technology.
All we have to do today is drag a song from one list to another. Voila: done. If you want, you can even re-arrange the order or set it on shuffle and get a random order. It even lets you select the songs individually and oh my goodness! set it on repeat.
Not the mixed tape.
The mixed tape required a level of preparation and planning that was a real investment in blood, sweat, and tears (the metaphor for sacrifice, not the musical group). First, we had to decide what songs we wanted, analyze the subtle (or not so subtle) message, and then put them in order so that it accomplished two very important things:
First, it had to be an unmistakeable declaration of undying love.
Second, it had to have an out, in the last or penultimate song, so that we could save face in case our crush of the moment thought we were creepy. This last one was difficult because if placed incorrectly in the order, the whole communication would fail and we would be in worse shape than before.
Then, the real work would begin. The lucky ones, like me, had a combination record player/tape deck stereo so we could record songs off albums or the radio. In those days, a 45 cost $0.97, not bad when compared to today’s $0.99? Wrong, remember a buck was worth a lot more 35 years ago. (oh my, did I just write that number?)
Instead of buying the records, we’d record them off the radio. That took incredible skill and patience because you know those deejees spoke right through the first few measures of a song, probably to foil all the recording that was going on. It took real work to get those puppies finished. Hours of work, to be honest. So to give the gift of a mixed tape was something meaningful. Something profound. A permanent testament to an undying love [until you ran out of cassettes and recorded over someone else’s gift to you].
So, without further ado, here is a mixed tape, 21st century-style, for you. 🙂
