I play a game with myself when I need a break from work. I call it Six Degrees of Flickr. The premise is simple: I visit the Flickr pages of people I know, visit photos with alot of comments and click through six degrees of separation (sometimes more, sometimes less).
The result is that I see all kinds of amazing photography. Some is saccharine sweet, some is simply breathtaking, and some is just downright weird. Along the way you see funny, interesting, and odd. It's really fun and I'm sure it's not unique to me.
Yesterday, while playing Six Degrees of Flickr, I came across a photo from the Sunday Herald in Australia that contains several "letters to the future." I won't link to it here, since I don't know the person and don't know if they want a bunch of extra traffic to their Flickr page, but believe me when I say, they are adorable. They are projections to 2032.
So, here is my letter to the Future:
Hi Sweetheart:
If you're reading this, then it's 2032 and I cannot- simply cannot- believe you are already 24. Congratulations on all you have achieved. I'm sure you've graduated with honors from college by now (stay in school.) I hope I'm still around and that I can still remember back 25 years ago when your mom first told me she was pregnant. She was so excited! Of course as usual, I was worried for her, but excited for her too. And look at you now... all grown up! (I bet you're tall, even though your parents are a touch on the vertically-challenged side!)
I'm hoping that everything I have planned has come true and that we're still working hard at bringing peace and prosperity to the world. I hope you have lots of cousins by now and that they are doing well (Hello, my sweet babies)- hopefully, the last one starts college this Fall. You can expect they'll be calling you for advice. There are simply some things that your children would rather hear from their older cousin, not their parents.
I hope that we're a close family... I hope you visit me and my family in Africa often - staying many months with us for a break. I hope that you have an easy life and that you are comfortable. I hope that all the hard work your parents have done to be well means that you are happy and secure. I hope that I can be your Auntie Mame- and that the issues of the world are more interesting to you when you visit us.
Most of all, I hope you are a leader. I hope that you and your cousins can help forge a new reality for us all. I hope your legacy is one of peace, one of truth, and one of hope. I hope that the world you inhabit is safe and has shifted it's priorities away from the accumulation of material wealth and that there is less damage, less violence, and less poverty.
Never forget that I love you. Thank you for all the joy you have brought to us.
Yours,
Auntie Kathryn
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
No map, but lots of fruit...
This weekend I finally got my long awaited produce fix. It wasn't as easy as a neighborly co-worker or well-intentioned contact dropping a basket of stuff on my desk, but perhaps I valued it more for the work it entailed.
After a hectic day of college politics and a long week of interpersonal drama, I hopped the train to NYC. From there, after some cat feeding, a bumpy cab ride, and a confusing moment at Grand Central, I hopped another train to White Plains. The next installment was a white knuckled train ride with only a minute, literally ONE minute, to spare before the car rental place closed, and we were loaded into our enormous SUV. A slightly harrowing and panic-stricken hour and a half of driving later, we were safely to the B&B.
We finally relaxed a bit after breakfast on Saturday, and found a wonderful farm stand by an orchard. Crisp Macintosh apples were the obvious choice, but the fresh roasted sweet corn turned out to be the glowingly unexpected treat. A few tastes of cider, a few moments in the sun and we were refreshed. And I was feeling like my waiting was over.
We took a hike in the local reserve and rejecting planning and reason proceeded sans aide up a steep trail that supposedly lead to a lake. I feel like the hike up to the picturesque, mountainous lake peeled off some of the tension that has been building in the last six months, maybe even touching some from the last decade. I hadn't realized how much I needed an emotional release. But I'm quite glad that I had one, lovingly guided by my dear friend.
On the way home, we found another farm stand. More expensive, but with a wider range of offerings, this time we got peaches, blackberries and pie. The peach was not-quite-ripe, but still offered "drip-down-the-chin" goodness and the next day was truly made better by the blackberries and the pie.
It wasn't necessarily idyllic, but it was what we both needed: a like-minded soul, a kind ear, a little nudging, a few emotional outbursts, and alot of fruit. I hope we can both push through with our big goals in the next few months, aided by the memories of the calm lake, the unfaltering friendship, and the sweetness of the unexpected.
After a hectic day of college politics and a long week of interpersonal drama, I hopped the train to NYC. From there, after some cat feeding, a bumpy cab ride, and a confusing moment at Grand Central, I hopped another train to White Plains. The next installment was a white knuckled train ride with only a minute, literally ONE minute, to spare before the car rental place closed, and we were loaded into our enormous SUV. A slightly harrowing and panic-stricken hour and a half of driving later, we were safely to the B&B.
We finally relaxed a bit after breakfast on Saturday, and found a wonderful farm stand by an orchard. Crisp Macintosh apples were the obvious choice, but the fresh roasted sweet corn turned out to be the glowingly unexpected treat. A few tastes of cider, a few moments in the sun and we were refreshed. And I was feeling like my waiting was over.
We took a hike in the local reserve and rejecting planning and reason proceeded sans aide up a steep trail that supposedly lead to a lake. I feel like the hike up to the picturesque, mountainous lake peeled off some of the tension that has been building in the last six months, maybe even touching some from the last decade. I hadn't realized how much I needed an emotional release. But I'm quite glad that I had one, lovingly guided by my dear friend.
On the way home, we found another farm stand. More expensive, but with a wider range of offerings, this time we got peaches, blackberries and pie. The peach was not-quite-ripe, but still offered "drip-down-the-chin" goodness and the next day was truly made better by the blackberries and the pie.
It wasn't necessarily idyllic, but it was what we both needed: a like-minded soul, a kind ear, a little nudging, a few emotional outbursts, and alot of fruit. I hope we can both push through with our big goals in the next few months, aided by the memories of the calm lake, the unfaltering friendship, and the sweetness of the unexpected.
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