Category: Life

Posted in Life

Life Before the Internet: A Personal Reflection

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Benjamin Dada on Unsplash

This is my response to the WordPress daily writing prompt, “Do you remember life before the internet?”

A quick internet search informs me that the public gained access to the internet 1993. When I think about all the ways I use the internet every day, I recall life before my life was connected to everyone and everything.

I did my banking in person. I walked into a building and engaged with a teller who recorded my deposits and withdrawals by hand. I received bills in the mail, and paid them by mailing a check. Now I do my banking and pay my bills online. I may physically go into a bank once a year to get some specific cash I need to a trip or a garage sale.

When a teacher assigned a research paper, I headed for the library. We were not permitted to simply use the bound volumes of an encyclopedia for information. We used a card catalog and the help of a librarian to find resources for the paper. We took notes by hand on index cards and arranged them in preparation for a first draft, written by hand or typed out on a loud, clunky, manual typewriter. Now the internet grants me instant access to virtually every resource in digital libraries all over the world.

While at college, I wrote and mailed letters to my parents to let them know how I was doing and how much money I needed. A week later, a letter from my mom or dad would arrive with news from home, and hopefully, a check. Now, I instantly communicate with all of my family and friends via email and multiple chat platforms.

I used to go to the store! I went to clothing stores, sporting goods stores, and book stores to buy what I needed. Now, I pick something out unseen online and it arrives at my front door in a day.

A paperboy tossed a morning and an evening newspaper to our front door. We learned about current world events and local happenings by paging through these daily publications and black-and-white television news programs. Now, headlines are pushed to my phone before I wake up in the morning.

The only music we listened to was from AM radio stations and my parents’ collection of vinyl records. In high school, I bought a few 33’s of my own. But in college, my friends introduced me to so many other artists and songs, all on LP’s. Stereo systems included tuners, amplifiers, speakers, turntables and cassette decks. I currently own zero CDs. All my music is streamed via the internet.

We went to the movies to see a movie. I remember laying in the back of our station wagon at a drive-in theater watching The Sound of Music and Bye Bye Birdie. I have a few DVD of favorite movies, but for the most part, I stream all movies on the internet.

Four times a year, I brought home a handwritten report card from my teacher. As a parent, I logged on to a portal to find out how my children were doing in school.

In my profession as a parish pastor, I preached to a room full of people. Until Covid. I quickly learned how to preach to a video camera which streamed my message to the congregation watching at home. I led and and attended many virtual zoom meetings from the comfort of my home, an impossible task without the internet.

I used to call a travel agent to book a flight to wherever. Now I plan my travel online.

If I need to learn how to do anything, I watch a video online. Before the internet, I called my dad. “How do you…?” He always knew.

Before the internet, I went to a venue and bought tickets at the gate. At a baseball stadium or a concert venue, tickets were available. Now, I get my tickets online, with a parking pass as well.

If I wanted someone or anyone to read my writing, I don’t even know what I would do. Now, I simply post something like this on my blog. Done.

Posted in Life, neighborhood

The misbehaving sprinkler

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The big dog and I know the sounds of the dawn. Birds begin to sing when the sky turns from black to blue. In the distance, garbage trucks are emptying the trash cans in the neighborhood. A rooster crows from behind a home at the halfway point of our walk. Japanese-made motorcycles whine in the distance as they speed down traffic-free roads. Dogs bark from inside homes as we walk by.

We didn’t recognize this sound. A bit like static on the radio, water in the sink, someone crumpling paper, and washing the car.

We rounded a slow curve and saw it. A broken sprinkler was shooting a stream of water right at the driver’s door of a black pickup truck. I’m used to seeing maladjusted sprinklers aiming water at the street, driveways, straight up the heavens, and into recycling bins. I’ve never seen a spray target the side of a truck.

Is this a bad thing? I don’t know. Heavy rains pummel my vehicles during torrential thunderstorms and hurricanes. I let car washes powerfully spray my vehicle with soap, rinses, and hot dryers.

Would water from this spray get inside the truck? Would it wear off the finish? I have no idea. It just didn’t seem like the ideal situation.

It was early. 6:30 am-ish. No one was up to see where the water was squirting. Oh well. I wouldn’t worry about a hurricane if I were you.

Posted in Life

Lost and found: a robot story

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Onur Binay on Unsplash

My robot vacuum got lost.

It was my fault. When we rearranged some of the furniture in the bedrooms, I moved the dock for the Roborock 5S that has been methodically winding his way through our home for the past five years. I figured if I moved the vacuum and the dock to a new spot, he would know where he was.

As soon as I started a room cleaning cycle, I knew there was a problem. Carson (the name we assigned to the robot vacuum) pulled out of the dock and began spinning in circles. I picked him up and took him out to the living room to get his bearings. He wandered here and there and finally headed back to the dock.

I let him decompress for a few weeks, but decided it was time to get back to work. I deleted the maps from the phone app and started him up. He went into “clean and map out the whole house mode” and finished up two hours later. I checked my phone and he vacuumed every room and found his way home again. Perfect!

Some folks are worried that robots will take over the world. They will develop the ability to replicate themselves. When they determine that humans are no longer essential, the robots will eliminate people from the planet.

I do not think I have much to worry about anytime soon. My personal robot gets lost in the only home he’s ever known!

Posted in Life

I’ve been wearing that for a long time

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Daily writing prompt
What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?
View all responses

The oldest thing I’m wearing today is my gold wedding ring, which I’ve worn daily since 1984. I’m pretty sure it’s 14 karat gold, but I can’t easily get it off my finger to check.

In second place is my watch, a Citizen Eco-Drive I bought six years ago. Fed up with the poor quality of the digital running watches I usually wore, I purchased a self-winding analog watch that has worked perfectly since I bought it.

This prompt made me think of older clothing I still wear. I’ve got two suits, black and navy, that I bought in 2014. I got my money’s worth out of them. I have a blue herringbone blazer from at least thirty years ago. I can only wear it if the temperature gets down to freezing, which rarely happens in Florida.

My red clerical stole dates back to my ordination in 1986. I still wear it on occasion.

Posted in Life

The worst lawn in the neighborhood? A contender.

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The home pictured above was completed less than a year ago. A family moved in, and now their front yard looks like this. Nice, huh?

I and the big dog walk by here four or five times a week. We watched them clear the lot, pour the foundation, set the roof trusses in place, stucco the walls, install windows and doors, and throw a whole lot of dead-looking sod into the yard. I remember commenting to the dog, who just pees on it anyway, “I can’t believe they lay sod that looks like that.” When brown, dry, dead looking clumps of dirt and grass are thrown across an inch of topsoil, it’s going to look like the picture above.

Did it rain? Did they water it? Do they have a lawn service? Does anyone care? I have no idea. I just know that it’s never going to look better than it does in this picture. The weeds will propagate and grow taller. The existing grass will retreat in humiliation. You’ll only get an answering machine if you call the builder. Bottom line: you have a crap lawn.

A good lawn in Florida is a full-time job. Few homeowners can do it without the services of a lawn company. That’s just the way it is. Bugs, mold, drought, weeds, torrential rain, pets, and poor soil present huge obstacles to a decent looking lawn any where in Florida.

We had a great looking lawn in the front and back yards. Thick, lush, and green. Then we got a Great Dane puppy. For six months, her urine burned brown spots in the lawn. When she grew to full size, she tore paths running back and forth across the back yard. Months of floods followed by weeks of drought took its toll. The back yard was a mess. I banned the dogs from the back yard, re-sodded bare spots, and prayed for rain. By the grace of God, it’s growing back.

Growing in seems to take much longer than ripping up. Just be patient. The rain will come. The sun will shine. The grass will grow!

Unless you are the guy whose yard is featured above. Yeah, that’s not gonna grow back. He can look forward to tall weeds, mud, and bugs. Welcome to the neighborhood.

After messing around with it for years, my wife said, “Get a lawn guy.” The next day, someone from Scott’s came by offering a special on monthly lawn service. “Sign me up!” They were bought out by TruGreen. They’ve done a great job for the last fifteen years.

Posted in fitness, Life

The green kettlebell

Posted on by William Douthwaite

So I’m just walking down the street with the big dog, as I so often do, and spy a green kettlebell sitting in someone’s driveway.

Okay, someone is clearly in the middle of a MetCon (metabolic conditioning) workout where someone repeatedly runs and does kettlebell swings and other exercises for time.

The strange thing is, there’s no “someone” around. The garage door is closed. I don’t see anyone running. The twenty-pound kettlebell is just parked there in front of the street.

If you’ve ever read my stuff, you know I like to speculate about things like this.

Maybe it rolled out of a delivery truck. The driver pulled out too quickly and the box broke apart when it hit the street, stranding the green kettlebell.

Perhaps it escaped the garage gym. We’ve got a collection of dumbbells and kettlebells in our garage. This one could have tumbled past the cars and almost to the street.

Someone may have thrown the kettlebell out of the garage in anger or frustration. Some workouts can be infuriating. Why not take it out on your equipment?

Someone was cleaning house. Garages get cluttered with equipment no one uses. Enough is enough, and some of it goes to the curb.

Could it be a signal?

  • Leave the package in the driveway with green kettlebell. Or else.
  • Where’s the meeting? Look for the green kettlebell.
  • Meet me by the green kettlebell.
  • If the kettlebell’s out, don’t come knocking.

“Let’s paint the garage!” And now the green kettlebell clashes with the new purple walls. “It’s gotta go.”

“It didn’t look like this in the picture.” Few things do. Whoever ordered it expected a different color. Ship it back? Too heavy. Just leave it on the curb. Someone will take it.

“You spilled green paint all over my kettlebell?” I’m going to kill you!

I have never, ever seen a kettlebell in a driveway. Only in a gym or in my garage.

Posted in Life

Now that’s a suit

Posted on by William Douthwaite

When my wife asked her brother, “Where should we go for a tenderloin sandwich?” both he and his wife responded, “Amazing Joes.”

My wife and I were in Columbus, Indiana, for our nephew’s wedding. He was the youngest of my brother-in-law’s four children, and the last to get married. The rehearsal dinner at the Brown County Inn was fun, delicious, and the first time we met our nephew’s fiancee. We were overdressed for the wedding in downtown Columbus. We assumed it would be dressy, but you know what happens when you assume. Oh, well, better to over- than underdress. The reception at the Abe Martin Inn in Brown County State Park was nice and we got to see a lot of the other side of the family.

On Sunday, we went to my brother-in-law’s church, and then headed out to lunch. As soon as we sat down, this gentleman, in a tye-died suit sat down across from our booth. I could not think of anything but, “Wow.”

After that initial reaction, the questions began flowing.

Where do you buy a suit like that? Go ahead. Say it. “Amazon.” Actually, you can get the “Mens Funky Fade Stylish 2 Piece Party Suit” at Vanquishe.com for under $200.

Why would you wear a suit like that? That’s a more difficult question. Since I can’t search for that answer, I can only speculate. Did he want attention? He got it. Lose a bet? Perhaps. Next time wager some cash. Make a statement? Could be, but I don’t speak that language. “My other suit was at the cleaners.” Happens all the time, right?

I must be out of the loop. He’s looking at me, in my navy khakis and blue button-down shirt, thinking, “Where did he get that outfit?” At his church, that was the rule, not the exception. His yellow shirt and pink tie announced, “This is how to dress.”

After we paid our check and got up to leave, I noticed his Marine Corps combat cap. I’m indebted to him for his service to our country. My wife noticed a Genesis commentary on his table. A pastor? At the very least, a brother in Christ.

When he walks into a restaurant, black and grey suits make him look twice. He’s asking the same questions. And he reaches the same conclusion. There’s an outfit for everyone, and everyone has an outfit. Be surprised, be amazed, be puzzled, but don’t be judgmental.

Posted in Life, Resurrection reflections

The Last Act of Love: Women at Jesus’s Tomb

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared” (Luke 24:1).

I’ve never felt compelled to go back to the cemetery where my mother and father are buried. I know that many people do. Before his own death fourteen years later, my dad planted flowers at my mother’s grave at a church in suburban Philadelphia. Others return to talk to deceased loved ones. Some go to confirm genealogical information.

Those who went to the tomb were women who had come from Galilee with Jesus to Jerusalem. They watched as Joseph (from Arimathea) and Nicodemus (John 19:29) took Jesus’s corpse from the cross, wrapped it in linen, and laid it in a cave, a garden tomb cut in stone. That all happened late Friday afternoon, just before sunset, the beginning of the Sabbath.

These women went to the tomb to complete the burial ritual for Jesus. This includes washing the body, rubbing it with spices, and wrapping it with a shroud, before placing it in a tomb. It was a last act of love, a final goodbye, and part of their grieving process.

It probably wasn’t the first time they had done this. But death is death, and their hearts were heavy. Their minds were filled with horrific images of crucifixion. They had no thoughts about the future. They focused on the task at hand.

To catch the nuance of this verse, try to remember a moment when you had to say goodbye.

It was that kind of a morning.

This is the second in a series of reflections on Jesus’s resurrection as recorded in Luke’s gospel.

Posted in Life

What are you doing at dawn?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared” (Luke 24:1).

What are you doing at dawn?

Some of you reading this have never seen the dawn. You are night owls. It’s broad daylight when you open your eyes after a night’s sleep. You’ve seen pictures of the sunrise, but never the real thing.

Others are more like me. I wake and head out the door with my big dog when it’s dark. The sky embraces the dawn colors as we head around the block. Blue skies have taken over by the time we get home.

When the women set out for the tomb, had they slept at all that night? Did they anxiously await the end of the Sabbath at dawn to finish what they started when Jesus died? Did his words about resurrection rob them of a night’s sleep?

Jesus couldn’t have been clearer. Death, burial, and third-day resurrection. Did they hear it? Understand it? Believe it?

I doubt it.

But they loved him. They watched him die. They set out to do what you do when someone dies. There are rules, rituals, and respect. They loved Jesus. They took care of Jesus. They would take care of him one last time.

What are you doing at dawn?

I’m usually reading the bible at dawn. I’m not boasting. It’s just what I do. I get up. I feed the dog. I pour a cup of coffee. I read the bible. I write in my journal. Jesus loves me. He takes care of me. And he’s going to take care of me today.

What are you doing at dawn?

This is the first of a series of reflections on Jesus’s resurrection as recorded in Luke’s gospel.