HIGH COST OF PROSPERITY
I've had my cup of decaf, sit at my computer,
fumble with the keys, thinking what to write.
I let my mind go blank. A light goes on. I think
of folks, head buried in computers, eyes glued
to television, cell phones hard against their ears.
No time is left to know the next door neighbor.
I think of a time when we sat on the porch,
watched fireflies dance in summer air,
when oil lamps flickered in the window,
when neighbors came to call. Mid idle chatter,
childhood laughter, my mother always said
"I'm so glad to see you. I'm glad you came".
On Sunday we went to church, listened to
the word of God, gathered in the church yard,
talked of menial things. At funerals folks came
from miles around. When mom and dad were seated,
we sat around the table, asked God to bless the food.
When we got up we asked to be excused.
In '31 dad bought a battery Airline radio.
We didn't have 'lectricity. Eager eyed, the neighbors
sat on benches to see the show. Quiet as mice
they heard the static, mid fisticuffs, from Tunney
Dempsey's fight. Sleepy eyed they said
goodnight and trudged along toward home.
Could radio have ushered in the change of time,
I ask myself? I'll nuke another cup of decaf,
check the TV guide to see what's on tonight,
call my sis in Denver on the phone. I'll send an E-mail
to my brother Paul. Oh yes! Lest I forget, I'll ask
the man I see each day to tell me what's his name.
Conlye O Waggoner