Connection. A stated interest in my profile, and today offers a unique example. We watched President Obama’s inauguration on TV and on the CNN livestream, which was linked to Facebook so I could watch with my friends. So the connection I enjoyed holding hands with my dear husband extended out to my friends, and into the huge crowd of rugged celebrants in Washington DC. What an exuberant crowd! What a grand day! When I say I haven’t felt this way since I was about 7, it’s because it’s been so, so many years since I felt this proud of my coun . . . try (thanks, Aretha, I needed that), and maybe part of something larger than myself. And loved, LOVED, that beautiful poem by Elizabeth Alexander, in which we scribes got a mention! “Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.” Lots of ways to understand that line, but knowing many scribes who practice at their kitchen tables, I had immediate personal associations that certainly made me feel included.
Connection. Yet another perspective on that word: I am just emerging from three weeks of unreliable internet connection. Friday we finally got our DSL back, last night we got the wireless network back up after many frustrated attempts, and all systems are apparently working. Days of being and/or waiting for tech support. I never wanted to be a network administrator, but finally had to get out the long instruction book and muddle through each step until, finally, these machines are all talking to each other again. We’re pretty sure it’s really voodoo, this wireless stuff. But oh, don’t we rely on it now! For connection above all.