We live in a world ruled by pop princesses and pancake houses, where video games have replaced books and writers no longer need grammar. But look deeper, and it’s easy to see that our sometimes witless world remains an inquisitive and clever place. In short essays, our writers probe those signs of intelligent life.
INSTANT MESSAGING
My father died via text message. Not his actual, final breath, which was reported the old way, through telephone calls between his four children. But rather his long act of dying — illness, sadness, hopes raised and ruined — which was realized in the briefest of messages typed on tiny keyboards and zipped offspring- to-offspring across time zones.
It read like this:
Sister 1: “Infection test positive, 7 day antibiotics start 2 nite. dad very disappointed”
Or this:
Sister 2: “Just had severe chest pains. Two doses nitro. Slightly better.”
No doubt here that text messaging signals the end of elegant prose, that it can lack the flourishes of a handwritten letter, the nuances of a well-considered e-mail or phone call. Even for my Catholic-schooled sisters, it spells the total breakdown of good grammar.
But messaging proved a surprisingly rich medium over some difficult months last year. For my dad, in and out of the hospital, deprived of appetite and a solid diagnosis of his wasting away, life was test upon test. For us, text after text.
Each allowed genuine expression, without concerns of long-distance charges, or intrusions into work or sleep hours.
It was a way to share hope:
Sister 1: “dad so much better than i would have ever thought possible call me whenever u want xo”
Or frustration:
Brother 1: “blood tests indicate congestive heart failure. i was supposed to see doc between 8 & 9 but she was a no show.”
Texting subbed as both counselor and coach of sorts. Knowing we had to reduce our thoughts to quick keystrokes forced on-the-spot processing of feelings, a rush to the core of what we needed to share. Over those months, we became power writers and skilled editors, avoiding literary frippery, mastering the art of fusing context with meaning in few words.
Brother 2: “Flu shot seems right to me. Basic care yes. Extraordinary care no. My thoghts anyway.”
Sister 2: “Has there been any mention of dialysis? Ps. Hope i didn’t sound preachy.“
Best of all, texting allowed us to conserve our humanity. We didn’t phone each other constantly, we texted thoughtfully. And at the other end, when a message arrived, and you just knew the news was bad, it could be put off until you were ready to read with a clear head and respond with dignity.
Sister 1: “appt at funeral home sun at one thrity. they will get dads body today. do you want to see body”
Brother 2: “no i do not want to see body thanks”
Sad, clumsy, but a welcome bit of warmth from the coldest effect of our digitized world.
Ray Mark Rinaldi
Gaga’s meat suit, hey, at least you’re doing your best to make everyone chuckle. John Hendrickson
See ‘related,’ above right, for 8 other signs of intelligent life in The Age of Stupid.
