A pope died. A new pope was chosen. A very dear old lover passed away. Some of my favorite artists, whom I have enjoyed for many years, have transitioned to perform, write, and dance on a heavenly plane. I’ve never liked change. Perhaps, been afraid of it even. Ironically, one of my favorite songs is “Everything Must Change” by the late Benard Ighner. I’m considered an elder now, and I’m finding impermanence increasingly disquieting.
Finding Joy in Disquiet
But it’s summer, and I’m indulging in its beauty. The seasonal drift from spring to raging heat offers me a sense of liberation from political nightmares and brings with it an obstinate optimism. As authoritarianism plants its ghastly footsteps in too many places across the planet, we are divided. Yet, we are also connected. We hold before us an eternal optimism that protects us like an ancient knight’s armor. We have a battle cry: JOY IS RESISTANCE.
Growing up, I struggled with finding joy at home. At 11, I was weighed down by the constant fighting within my family and desperate for laughter. Most of the time joy felt as distant as an air balloon over the Atlantic. But then spring would arrive. Spring, with its sweet smells. Spring with its flowers and brilliant colors. The sky seemed bluer. The delicate green of spring grass was accented with purple crocuses and yellow tulips. The pussy willows along the streets assured me that everything would be just fine. Spring brought joy.
There were cocoons in trees lining the sidewalks where I walked home from school. Those white cottony things, almost transparent, had lumps inside that I didn’t understand would turn into butterflies. Boys, ever annoying little boys, threw rocks at them or batted them down with sticks. I usually ran beneath a tree to get away from those white lumps knocked loose because they landed on my neck or in my hair. But as spring wore on, the lumps inside became beautiful, magically colored things, liberating themselves from bondage. As I ease into elderhood, I reflect on this memory from my earlier years: the cocooning times.
Joy and An Abundance of Eggs
Eggs — The subject of economic dismay that’s led us into this year of low expectations and turning the American Dream into a nightmare for many.
My father used to chastise me because, as he said about my mother and me, “Whenever I walk into this house, you two are going at each other!” This, even before I was 13. But the night before Easter Sunday, something magical happened. Joy fired up a powerful resistance to any family issues. All of us kids joined Mom as we gathered around dozens of eggs. There was a renewal, a resurrection, a rebirth, if you will, of the delight human beings are meant to experience.
We stayed up past eight o’clock, selecting stencils and food colors for our boiled eggs and filling Easter baskets for ourselves and cousins. Those nights were special. The evening routine of dinner, dishes, homework, and perhaps a harsh “I told you to finish your homework!” was abandoned for an experience of limitless childish joy. We did not whine — “but it’s still light out” — when we heard neighborhood children playing kickball in the streets. What we cared about was decorating eggs. What we experienced was joy.
Obstinate Optimism as Resistance
The spirit of the times requires — demands — that we maintain joy in our resistance. We are living through overwhelming changes in politics and culture. Dreams for peaceful coexistence can only survive and manifest in optimism.
Children are dying from measles – a disease we had eliminated from our country. People are being kidnapped, placed in prisons and concentration camps, or starved mercilessly by authoritarian governments. There are dictatorships throughout this world, and we, in this country, are as politically divided as we’ve ever been — some say since the Civil War. “Divide and conquer” is as old as humanity itself, and we fight against this abomination. And still, people are bursting with obstinate optimism.
We have been through tragedies before, and we have come through them to celebrate the return of the Light. Optimism, Joy as Resistance, is the best of the human spirit. Claiming our joy is necessary nourishment if we are to survive — and thrive.
Sala
wordshavecolor.com 
Technology. Seniors. Connectivity.
The Affordable Connectivity Program (ACP) was developed to make broadband internet services accessible to low-income households. Sadly, the program has been discontinued – a casualty of legislative haggling.
The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) reports that initial funding for the ACP, which provides subsidies to eligible participants with internet service provider (ISP) contracts, ended in June of 2024. Additional funds were not approved during Congressional budget negotiations. Perhaps some legislators were clueless; maybe others just didn’t care about the needs of isolated seniors, students needing access to learning options, residents of tribal lands, and rural communities. Perhaps some legislators just plain ignored the fact that internet access is often critical for medical care, jobs, social security, Medicare, and housing information. It’s a situation fueled by unkindness.
Several ISPs, in an unexpected Godsend, have stepped up to fill gaps left by the termination of funding.
I live in a township with a large and diverse senior population. Over the years, I’ve met several residents who embrace technology for all that it can offer. In other words, more than just email. Some residents, however, are nervous about online usage, even as they recognize the advantages technology offers. Some do not know how to use a computer. Yes, that’s a thing in 2024. Some simply cannot afford the costs of internet service providers and they are left out in the cold. That’s where ACP is beneficial.
I get it about distrusting online activity. There are dangers out there.
Targeting of seniors by scammers is high. Media coverage of identity theft has panicked women I know. There are also challenges that include “clouds,” automatic updates, and social media misinformation and untruths. I know a woman who was targeted by a man looking for lonely seniors in order to steal hard-earned savings. She lost a significant amount of money.
And my personal gripe – no exaggeration here: I loathe the hours I spend with technical support associates who don’t know their jobs. So yes, there are real inconveniences with the internet.
My point is that isolation for those without the internet is real ─ and alarming. A woman in my building told me about her feelings of isolation and depression during the pandemic lockdown. Unfortunately, there were no “pods” in this seniors’ building to help alleviate loneliness. The value of connecting with others and receiving ─ sometimes lifesaving ─ information through the internet cannot be overstated. ACP support for internet access is critical.
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It was 1995, I think. I remember it was around 11 p.m. The neighborhood children were in bed and the streets were quiet in Oakland, CA. I poured a glass of wine and relaxed in front of my new gift. It was mid-summer, but it felt like Christmas morning to me.
My employers, God bless ‘em, who were software developers, had given me one of the company’s old IBM personal computers. It was a clunky machine that put me over the moon. Taking a sip of wine, I stared at the dark screen.
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Six years prior, I worked at a college that had invested in computers and software training for some of its administrative staff. I was fortunate to be included in the training. Although cautious about the technology, I was excited.
We had to learn a lot quickly. Word processing software felt complex to an administrative staff that had been swatting away on Selectric typewriters ─ some of us for decades ─ using typewriter correction tape, inserting carbon paper for duplication, and making countless trips to a mimeograph room.
Some quit the training, preferring to stick with typewriters until the new technology was mandated. I chose to struggle on. It would serve me well. Like the delight of discovering a new bread recipe, meeting a new man, or watching buds on a tree become leaves, I was filled with excitement. Life was taking on new energy.
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I turned on the computer. MS-DOS loaded, and things took off from there. I don’t remember the internet icon. Netscape? Maybe. The guys at work must have given me a password because suddenly there was the twittering, singsong beeping of the “handshake,” and the image of a globe appeared on the screen.
Scooching closer to my desk, I anticipated a new world with cultures and places vastly different from my own: different languages, ways of walking and talking, and delightful food traditions. I never looked back. The internet allowed me to “get off my block” and fully engage with the world. Technology saved me.
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Fast forward to 2020 and the pandemic lockdown. I loved being alone but was missing in-person connections with friends. Then. Along came Zoom.
It saddens me that seniors and other isolated citizens need, but can’t access, broadband internet. Online access allowed me to attend community and civic meetings, free and live performances from the Royal National Theatre in London and other entertainment, visit with friends from afar, and participate in myriad activities and make connections during the Covid lockdown. Again, technology rescued me.
No one should be without broadband in a world where, some say, another pandemic is imminent. Come on legislators. Quit haggling. Include the ACP in September’s budget talks.
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Posted in Writing from the heart
Tagged Affordable Connectivity, Aging, Commentary, editorial, internet access, internet service providers, Legislative haggling, Life Stories, Opinions, political process, Reflections, senior isolation, seniors and technology, technology access, Unkindness