Starting at 6:40 p.m. on August 14th, 2024, this happened:

I could complain how
she doesn’t listen, but she’s
got bluetooth hearing.
——–

Her bluetooth hearing aids
mean she won’t listen
to me.

It’s probably like
when guys are glued to sports
on TV.

We’ll go on romantic walks
but she’s listening to TED talks.
Her newfangled hearing aids
means she’s NOT hearing
me. (6:42 p.m.)
———-

What’s the point of new
hearing aids if you just hear
pre-recorded talks? 6:43 p.m.)
——

My Dad watches reels.
My wife listens to TED talks.
Conversation’s gone. (6:45 p.m.)

————
Well,
it’s happened.
I’m in the downhill part
of my life.

Walking is easier.
I see more,
I hear more,
I think more,
I feel more,
I understand more.

And my dad
has the TV volume
up to 120 decibels,
and his face
is in the phone,
watching reels of little kids
he doesn’t know,
dancing.

And my wife,
the smart person that she is,
tunes into TED talks
and philosophical lessons
from people much deeper
and much wiser than I am.

So after all this time
thinking that I could talk
about deep and significant insights
that I’ve gained
and that I’m learning day to day,
I’m still alone,
with my thoughts and feelings.

Except for God and Jesus.
They’re still there,
like They always have been,
like They always will be.
But being alone
and lonely
now
was not
what I expected.
(6:51 p.m.)
———
Another lover?
Who needs one more when she’s got
TED to listen to? (6:52 p.m.)
——–

She works.
I think.
She thinks.
I think.

She listens to others.
I think.
She talks about others.
I hear her.

We might connect.
But it’s like I’m watching a play
or reading someone else’s mind.
I’m not participating
except to look,
and hear,
and breathe,
and occasionally turn the pages
of the play bill,
and get up and stretch
at intermission.

The world is a stage,
but I’m not a player in it.
I just watch
and listen to tales
of what others have done
and are doing.

If I walk into the field,
the woods,
the creek alone,
with my thoughts,
as Muir
and Thoreau
and Whitman
and Longfellow
have done,
perhaps that’s my purpose?

Were they alone also?
Even though they had people around them
to share with?
In their thinking,
and their connecting with nature,
were they still alone?
And were they lonely?
Or just busy?
(6:56 p.m.)
———–

What did Goethe do
alone, thinking? He had no
techno-distractions.
10:55 p.m.