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