With All There Is, Why Settle For Just A Piece of Sky?

 

Two years ago, I lost my job as a teacher at a local Christian school. It hit me harder than I thought it would. My husband was shocked that the job I came home so often stressed about could cause me that much heartache. Sure, I was overworked. Sure, the kids could be disrespectful, lazy, and infuriating. Sure, it got old seeing parents not being able to accept that their child would get a 0 on an assignment because they hadn't turned it in. But it was the job I loved to do. It was what I had spent four years in college training for. It was where I felt like I was making a difference. When that letter came in the mail, dismissing me from my duties because the worsened economy made it too difficult to keep me, I was crushed. This blog was born out of those feelings: the helplessness, the struggle, the hope.

It was hope that kept me going: hope that a new job, a better job, would open up for me. Of course, I hoped it was teaching, but in those hectic, chaotic days of 2010, I just wanted to pay my bills and would take anything. I put in applications everywhere: every school and preschool in town, administrative assistant, secretary, cashier, nanny, I tried them all. Just as I was about to lose hope, I was hired as a nanny for two beautiful children who lived in South Carolina, a good 30-45 minutes away from where we live in Georgia. The commute coupled with the work load of nanny/housekeeper/cook/taxi driver was very demanding and started taking a toll on my health. When a job as a customer service representative opened up 8 minutes away from home, I leaped at it. It was not in my field, but who needs a degree to answer phones and take orders? It paid the bills. It had insurance. But still there was that hope. Hope that something better was coming. And so two years have passed. Let me tell you something: you can be thankful for your job and not be thrilled doing it. I am a firm believer that God can use us wherever He puts us, but it sure doesn't feel like you're making much of an eternal impact selling wood products all day, getting fussed at by customers because an item they want to be in-stock isn't, or getting fussed at because their credit card won't go through. (In fact, it's rather like dealing with problem students once they're grown up; you just can't put them in detention). But you keep plodding because you have to. You keep going. Our reasons for continuing on are different: sometimes because the only other choice is to lay down and die. But there is always hope. Hope for something better. Hope for the future. Hope that our God hasn't forgotten us. Sometimes it feels like we're barely hanging on, that we're trapped, and that there is no light at the end of a very, very long tunnel. That's when the fight is the hardest. We feel like we're fighting for everything: fighting to keep our heads above water, fighting to stay cheerful, fighting to stay positive, just plain fighting to live. Our hope feels like it's almost gone. Maybe our God really has forgotten about us or thinks we haven't suffered enough yet. Maybe what we think we can bear & what God thinks we can bear are two completely different things. Maybe our dreams will stay just those and never come to fruition. And this is something I truly believe: when God has gotten you to the point that you are resolved to that future (whether it be the one you dreamed of or not), He will rescue you. He may rescue you by removing you from the situation, or He may give you the means to stand up under the trials & tribulations. It's what my husband calls "the death of the dream." We have to get past the mourning for the dream, past the anger that we don't have the dream, past the self-pity that we aren't living the dream. We have to truly be OK with the idea that the dream may never come true, and then God reveals the next step of His plan.

My rescue came in the form of a phone call. A school I had applied to two years ago when I first lost my job contacted me out of a clear blue sky and asked if I was still interested in teaching with them. Two years ago, they didn't have any teaching positions open. Suddenly, there was one. That's all. One. Anyone who has been keeping even half an eye on unemployment statistics in the past few years knows that the market is flooded with teachers right now. Right after my school let go of me and 6 other teachers, another local school let go of 150. A few months after that, the local high school fired all first & second year teachers due to cutbacks in the budget. Several hundred teachers. One position. I could have pessimistically said, "Yeah, right. What are the chances?" and not even tried. But I did. I tried. I stepped out in faith. I had hope. I let the glimmer of the dream raise its head. And I got it. Words cannot describe the relief, the joy, the hope experienced in that moment. I got home that day, and my husband met me at the door. He is my best friend and has been at my side through thick & thin in my job drama. "Did you get it, baby?" he asked excitedly. I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but just started crying. Taking my reaction as a resounding no, he started to console me thinking I'd been turned down. I was finally able to hiccup out an, "I got it!" And as he twirled me around the living room, the story came out that it was so much better than I could have imagined: I was offered a job teaching my dream set of classes: senior English, 8th grade English, music, & drama. I would've taken anything, but for me to not only get my dream job but to get to teach every single class I love was beyond comprehension. It gets better: this isn't a regular school. This is a Christian recovery camp for teens in crisis. When their parents don't know where to turn, they send their kids here for a year-long program to get them back on the right track. This isn't just a Christian school in name where you can't tell the difference between them and the public school. Each classroom has a teacher's aide to help with discipline. Discipline is enforced. If a student is disrespectful, instead of an obligatory trip to the principal's office that accomplishes nothing, they do some push-ups, wall-sits, or write sentences. They can learn and recover and discover who God made them to be in this environment. Humorously, when I was offered the job, the administration kept carefully pointing out "negatives" so that I wouldn't have any misconceptions about the job: "The pay isn't as good as public schools..." "That's OK, I've never taught at one so I don't know what they pay anyway." "OK, well, we don't give entire summers off, so there isn't as much time off as you would normally get..." "It's more than the 7 holidays I get off per year now, so anything is an improvement." "Well, we don't really have a classroom for you, so you'll have to float a bit..." "I would teach out in the cow pasture if you needed me to."

And that leads me to my conclusion: I think God allows us to go through times of trials and tribulations so that when a dream is finally realized, it is all the more sweeter. No regrets. No question in our minds. My hiatus from teaching, forced though it was, helped me see that it truly is my calling and my passion. I didn't feel like I was making much of an eternal impact for God's Kingdom fighting with people over whether or not their credit card was declined. But teaching, and teaching where I can actually make a difference in kids' lives for their eternal betterment, is a blessing I never thought I would have again. It was hard. There were times I thought the dream was dead and hope was gone. At times it was just an ember, barely glowing under the ashes, but in God's timing, it burst forth into flame and rose from those ashes to start anew. Please know that, friend: no matter where you are in life, God has you right there for His purpose and for His glory. Hold on to that hope, that dream. He planted it in your heart! He wants to see you rise! Maybe you have a bit more refining to do in that fire; maybe your dream is about to be accomplished right around the corner. Don't give up! What He has in mind is so much better than anything we could have ever dreamed!

This blog is named for a song from the Barbra Streisand movie Yentl, called "A Piece of Sky." In the movie, Yentl, played by Streisand, has gone through many trials and tribulations of her own, simply to be granted the right to study, which is forbidden to her because she's a woman. I highly recommend watching it, so I won't give anything away, but the last song of the movie is one that never ceases to make me cry while at the same time encouraging me on to bigger and better things. This song played in my mind constantly when I first lost my job, and now it plays in my mind again: an anthem of sorts leading me into my new day and new chapter. Please enjoy listening to it below, and remember, even in your darkest time, your Rescuer is right around the corner. He wants to watch you fly. 

The Road Taken...and Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

"The Road Not Taken" ~Robert Frost

This has always been one of my favorite poems. I know, I know, it’s everyone’s favorite poem, right? The only one we can remember from high school English class, if we can remember high school at all. The only poem that didn’t require too much dissection, too much thinking, too much use of metaphors, and one that seemed pretty straightforward. Little of that “What do YOU think it means?” which English teachers love to spring on their sleepy students on a rainy November morning. I must admit my understanding of the poem was always pretty straightforward and lacked depth, (surprising since I simply love to read into things). I always took the poem at face value: man in woods, comes to a fork, must choose one, and he always wonders if he made the right choice. I skimmed slightly beneath the surface of the poem by thinking, “And this is a metaphor for life. Sooner or later, you come to a place where you have to make a huge decision, and you always wonder ‘what might have been.’”

In recent months though, I’ve come to see a whole other side of the poem and my interpretation of it. I’ve always looked at this poem as a once-in-a-lifetime, make-it-or-break-it decision. We all know it’s coming; when will we be faced with it? To marry or not to marry? To accept the promotion or no? To have kids or not to have kids? These are the monumental questions I always saw that poem embodying. What I’ve discovered is that my life is not filled with that many monumental decisions. Pants or a skirt to wear to work? Cook dinner or go out to eat? These are the decisions that face me throughout most of my days. Frustrated, I asked myself, “Why do I not get to try a really big decision? Does God not trust me enough? Have I proven unfaithful in the small things?” Then I just go wacky: “Did I freak out too much when I found that run in my pantyhose last week?”

Then it hit me: The fork in the road isn’t a one-time decision; it’s an everyday one. Every day that we get up and out of bed, we are starting down that forest path, listening to the leaves crackle underfoot. Some days seem like a pretty straight shot – not too many hard decisions! Huzzah! And then that co-worker pushes all the right buttons, and BOOM! a crossroads: Do I lose my temper, or do I react in love and patience? On the drive home, we’re not paying attention, take the wrong exit, KAPOW! new fork in the road: Road rage or enjoy the scenic route home?

Too mundane, you say? Surely how we react in those situations isn’t really of that much eternal consequence…right? I would argue otherwise – the decisions you make at those “small” forks in the road determine how you will react to the really big crossroads. That Jesus fish on the back of your car? Might send a mixed message to a fellow driver when they see you yelling and gesticulating behind the wheel. Those little ears in the backseat? They’re logging away every action, reaction, and temper tantrum.

Many things motivate us at these forks in the road. Some of us are motivated by fear. Confront that sister in Christ over a sinful action? We simply couldn’t. What if she didn’t like us anymore? But what if God wants to use you to call her back to Him? Others are motivated (or unmotivated as the case may be) by laziness. Go out of our way to do something special for our spouse or significant other? Ehh, maybe tomorrow. Besides, he knows how much I love him, and it’s been a long day for me. What about me? But what if he’s had a terrible day, and a sweet gesture from you is just the medicine he needs? Guilt, shame, a need for attention…the list of what motivates us and fuels our decisions at those forks in the road are endless. But we have to overcome those fears and act on our morals, our ethics, and our faith.

There will always be the “ages and ages hence” scenario. No matter if it’s a big or small crossroads, we will always be haunted by “what could have been.” I often think of what my life would be like if I had chosen the other path. My coming to Georgia for college almost didn’t happen. Only due to some inefficient employees and lost paperwork at a local community college did my family decide to let me come to Georgia. I often wonder how my life would be different if I had changed my mind at that fork in the road and decided to stay in Virginia. Would I have met my husband some other way? Would I be married to someone else? Or even at a “smaller” crossroads, what would the outcome had been if I had chosen to speak differently or act slower? Did my snappy answer to that stupid question cause that co-worker to shape up or shatter? Did my confronting that person cause them to repent or retreat? Even in writing this, I have to wonder: What will be the result? What might have been the outcome if you had never read this? Perhaps I place too much of a burden on a simple thing, but I think our God created us too complexly for that to be the case.

Take the road not traveled, but give plenty of thought to the road traveled by.

Would It Still Be HIS Kind Of Town?

Let me begin by saying: I am a Country Mouse at heart. You know Aesop's fable of the Country Mouse & the City Mouse? If not, allow me to refresh your memory: 

"A country mouse invited his cousin who lived in the city to come visit him. The city mouse was so disappointed with the sparse meal which was nothing more than a few kernels of corn and a couple of dried berries.

     "My poor cousin," said the city mouse, "you hardly have anything to eat! I do believe that an ant could eat better! Please do come to the city and visit me, and I will show you such rich feasts, readily available for the taking."

     So the country mouse left with his city cousin who brought him to a splendid feast in the city's alley. The country mouse could not believe his eyes. He had never seen so much food in one place. There was bread, cheese, fruit, cereals, and grains of all sorts scattered about in a warm cozy portion of the alley.

     The two mice settled down to eat their wonderful dinner, but before they barely took their first bites, a cat approached their dining area. The two mice scampered away and hid in a small uncomfortable hole until the cat left. Finally, it was quiet, and the unwelcome visitor went to prowl somewhere else. The two mice ventured out of the hole and resumed their abundant feast. Before they could get a proper taste in their mouth, another visitor intruded on their dinner, and the two little mice had to scuttle away quickly.

    "Goodbye," said the country mouse, "You do, indeed, live in a plentiful city, but I am going home where I can enjoy my dinner in peace." Moral: A modest life with peace and quiet is better than a richly one with danger and strife. (http://www.storyit.com/Classics/Stories/citycountrymouse.htm)

I recently embarked on a business trip to Chicago, Illinois. Summoning all my courage and deciding that I would begin to conquer my fear of flying, I signed up for two and a half crazy days in the Windy City. Boy, oh boy, am I ever the Country Mouse! 

We landed at O'Hare International Airport and hopped in a shuttle headed for the Crowne Plaza hotel in an eight passenger van filled to the brim with myself, my four co-workers (all from suspiciously sticking out due to their Southern accents), a confused-looking Asian lady, and a snooty blonde headed for the Hilton (who almost took my head off several times by swinging her Prada bag around the small confines of the vehicle). This was my first experience with Chicago traffic: apparently, traffic laws are "more like guidelines anyway" up north.

Chicago Traffic Tip #1: Stoplights don't mean what you think they mean. There were several stoplights our shuttle driver simply decided he did not want to stop for. Apparently, in Chicago, this is perfectly acceptable as long as you beep your horn in succession four times very loud and for very long increments. 

Chicago Traffic Tip #2: Read the fine print. Chicago is littered with "No Parking" signs. In the South, no parking means no parking. Sometimes even areas where you think you can park are just a decoy to make up for the police ticket quota for the month. But in Chicago, there are lots of "No Parking" signs and under this message (in very small, fine print) are the words, "Unless stopping for 15 minute intervals. Then use flashing lights." So the narrow streets and curbs of Chicago are littered with cars blinking their hazard lights into infinity while the owner runs into Dunkin' Donuts or Walgreens. 

Chicago Traffic Tip #3: Red doesn't always mean stop. In the South, you stop at a red light and go at a green light, and when that light turns green, you look cautiously from side to side to ensure that no more traffic is coming before proceeding to accelerate. In Chicago, your wheels better be starting to turn a few seconds BEFORE that light turns green because if your vehicle isn't moving forward when that light is green, a cacophony of honks will descend upon your mode of transportation like flies on a picnic. 

Lastly, Chicago Traffic Tip #4: There are two kinds of crosswalks - choose carefully. Apparently, there is the one where traffic yields to the pedestrian and another where traffic moves at breakneck pace & the pedestrian better be prepared to leap out of the way. (Our shuttle driver almost took out a poor Asian girl toting a 24 pack of water bottles). 

The second day of our trip, we decided to take a stroll down the Miracle Mile. Here is where I learned that Chicago foot traffic is slightly...cranky. Not quite malevolent, but the potential for it bubbles just beneath the surface. Everyone walks with cell phones to their ears or earphones in their ears, in their own world. No one makes eye contact. No one smiles. Everyone has a slight frown and seems to be dreading their next step. Someone walking past me sneezed, and I said, "Bless you." You would have thought I'd told them I was the Pope for the look I got. The cause of this was lost on me until I passed a certain building's lobby. The front of this lobby was made entirely of glass, and inside the lobby stood two maple trees under fluorescent lighting reaching desperately for a sky they could never see. People were standing in awe, staring up at these trees as if they'd never seen something so remarkable in all their lives. And that's when it hit me: Chicagoians are grumpy because they're oxygen deprived. Surrounded by buildings, there simply aren't enough trees to give everyone the oxygen they need so they're slowing going braindead. We need to import trees to Chicago...The first night in our hotel, I discovered another reason as to why Chicagoians are not all sunny dispositions: they can't sleep at night. Who could with traffic roaring and sirens wailing through the narrow streets and bouncing off the sides of the buildings so that it's magnified by a million? These people haven't slept in years!

We also need to teach them a bit about art. Sorry to break it to you, guys, but a gigantic Bean and fountains with video of peoples' faces that spit water at each other does not qualify. 


Lastly, our hotel was a memorable trip for the ages. Built in the 1920s, it was apparently a favorite of mobsters such as Al Capone and one of the top ten most haunted hotels in the United States. This hotel would have freaked out Stephen King himself. All it was missing was "Redrum" written in blood on the walls. 

Our last night in Chicago, we decided to explore the hotel for signs of haunting. We visited the supposedly most haunted room (441) and waited impatiently for a specter that never came. We even berated the ghost for being camera shy, but it didn't take the bait. We ended up in an employee staircase and wandered around for a bit, and then came back to see if the ghost was back from its lunch break. Nothing. So we headed to the elevator to try out a different floor. Now, bear in mind that we explored this huge hotel for the better part of an hour. Not once did we see another lodger on any floor that we explored. It was as if the entire hotel was deserted except for us. This helps add to a spooky atmosphere, no doubt. So I pushed the elevator button, and it lit. We heard the elevator rise, go past us to an upper floor, descend, and pass us again. We thought this strange, but hey, it's an old elevator. The elevator rose again, passed us, descended, and passed us again. This happened three times. Just as we decided we were going to take the stairs, my friend grabbed my arm and pointed at the elevator button I had pushed. As old elevator buttons will do, the light went out and then turned on again, almost as if it had been pushed a second time though neither one of us touched it. We took the stairs. This time, we ended up in a different employee passage that had not been used for ages. Dust & dirt everywhere and the sound of dripping water coming from somewhere ahead. So of course we had to investigate. (My friend grabbed a tarnished butter knife that had seen better days to fend off what I'm not sure. Ghosts? Al Capone?) We ended up in the room where the dripping water appeared to originate from. Yet here was the mystery: no puddle and no sign of water could be seen anywhere in the room. There were no water stains, no water marks, no water damage, nothing. I advanced further into the room and saw spray-painted graffiti on the wall. Remembering that I had read that gangsters who stayed in these hotels never used the front door but always used side entrances, and thinking we might be near one, I was about to try and find the door when I swear the sound of dripping water sounded directly next to my ear. But no splash. No water on the floor. Nothing. We hightailed it out of there. It wasn't until we made it back to our rooms that my friend realized our protective butter knife was still in his pocket.

Chicago wasn't half bad. It wasn't the Rat Pack experience I had hoped for, but I saw some sites, met some people, and got some fun stories. Oh, and if you hear rumors of ghosts at the Crowne Plaza leaving butter knives in states rooms, no worries. That was just us.

On Bibliophilia...

This fad of electronic books has me concerned. I say "fad" because I simply can't believe that people will lose their senses forever and think that staring at computer screens all day, staring at cell phone screens to text people every spare minute, and then staring at a Kindle or iPad screen to read a book all evening is truly a good idea. Just typing it sounds idiotic. 

I'm as big a fan of progress and technology as the next person, but I am truly concerned with electronic books, if only because the very idea goes against every core value of any true book lover. I recently had the opportunity to inspect one of these bibliophilic monstrosities, and here are some conclusions I reached:

1) Button, button, who's got the button? I don't know about you, but when I'm reading, I like to relax. The worries of the day, the stress of life...all melt away as I lose myself in a fantastic adventure, dramatic love story, or comedic monologue. The last thing I want to think about is which button I have to push. To turn the pages of, say, a Kindle, a button can be pushed on either side of the page to go forwards or backwards depending on the reader's whim. No more licking the fingers to turn paper pages for these aristocratic readers. Oh, no. Simply the touch of a button. 

Then there's the Bookmark button. Want to save your place for later? Simple. Just go to the "Bookmark" button or key. Because Lord knows when reading paper books, there's no way to save your page. It's not like a piece of paper can be stuck in-between the pages and...oh wait. 

How about highlighting or taking notes for all those sticky college textbooks? Writing in the margins or pulling out the ol' highlighter is a thing of antiquity. Now buttons highlight for us. Of course, after notes are taken and passages are highlighted, one cannot simply view them by...reading. Oh, no. One must go to the "View Notes/Highlights" section of the "book." A nice evening of reading is starting to sound a bit more like an Introduction to Computers course for college freshmen, huh? 

2) It keeps going and going and going...or not. When enjoying a good book anywhere, (the office breakroom, the beach, the car, the living room, etc.), the last thing one wants to encounter is a "low battery" signal. Let's face it: when we're reading is a time when we're on low battery and need a recharge via frivolity. Nothing like reaching the climax of your book only to not be able to turn the page due to insufficient battery juice. No reader of "old fashioned" books ever encountered this problem. Sure, Kindle and iPad batteries can be charged and last up to a month, but with all the things to remember on my "To Do" list, remembering when I last charged my book is the last thing I want to see on there. Come on - "charge my book"??? Are you even listening to yourself right now?

3) Pardon me, I seem to have...washed your book. Let's get down to brass tacks. It's happened to all of us: a friend borrows a book and either loses it or destroys it via pet, the elements, or (my personal favorite) the washing machine. This happened to me a few months ago. I lent a book to a dear friend, and when she returned it to me, I noticed my name was not printed in the front as it had been. She proceeded to tell me that her husband, deciding she was spending too much time reading it, had hidden the book in the washing machine. She went on to do a load of laundry, and...the rest is history. (Interesting sidenote: did you know that washing a book with bits of red in the cover will turn a load of whites pink? Yeah, me either). Being the kind friend that she is, she bought me a new copy of the book, good as new. This brings up two black marks against electronic books: loaning books becomes hard as you are loaning not just one book but an entire library (and what will you read while the borrower has your reader?) and replacing a washed Kindle or iPad just might get a little pricier than a washed hardback. Which brings me to point #4...

4) Have you seen the price of these things??? I am a bargain hunter. Perhaps bargain bloodhound would be the more appropriate term. I can sniff out a deal anywhere and in any conditions, particularly when it comes to books. There is nothing I like better than entering an antique shop or used book store and walking out with $50 worth of books for a fraction of the cost. I did a little research on these electronic books, and if you're thinking of buying one, I hope you're ready to take out a second mortgage. The cheapest new Kindle I could find was $79. A deal for some of you technological fiends out there, but let me remind you: that is $79 for an empty shell as far as I can tell. I could find no books that actually come with the Kindle for $79. Those are "sold separately" just like the batteries needed to run the stupid thing. Other Kindles ran from $99 to $199. (iPads are not a part of this research project because they can also double as computers). Book downloads seem to run anywhere from $3.99 to $8.99. A bargain? Sure, as books go. So that's a tab of $82.99 (before tax) to read one book. And if you want a warranty to protect your electronic reader from anything from water damage to nuclear holocaust, that'll run you another $25. $107.99 (before tax) just for the simple pleasure of reading. Do you know how many regular, used books I can buy for that amount of money? I have gotten so many books for 5 to 25 cents, it's obscene. 

5) Can YOU read more than one book at the same time? One selling factor to these electronic readers is the appeal of "taking your whole library with you everywhere." And I admit, at first glance, that has a certain level of appeal. Any of my wonderful books at my fingertips. Anytime. But unless you're some kind of Star Trek alien, I highly doubt you possess the talent of reading multiple books at the same time. Kindle or not, you are stuck in the same predicament as we mere mortals: no matter how many books you have at your fingertips, you can only read one at a time. So owning a Kindle that stores 1,400 or 3,000 books at a time is pointless. You can't read one at the same time you're loaning one to someone else, and you can't read two books at once. The only appeal I see to this is to be a "book snob" and whip out your Kindle at anytime, anywhere simply to prove a point or win an argument. (But this technique will not win you many friends). 

We can argue the pros and cons of electronic readers versus the old fashioned kind for days on end. I'm sure there are many proponents and opponents on both sides. Let me leave you with one last thought: Besides the fact that it is nice to give the old eyes a rest from staring at some kind of screen all day, and besides the opinion that too much technology makes you stupid (can you see Shakespeare composing Hamlet on a Kindle or Newton writing up his theory of gravity on an iPad?) is the simple fact that technology is taking away from our interaction with other human beings. First letters and "snail mail" were fazed out to make room for emails; now phone calls are dwindling as texting takes its place. Human interaction is slowly being replaced by machines. When this happens, we lose a part of ourselves. Yes, I realize the irony of this statement as I type this post into my computer and send it out into the cosmic void of the Internet. But I'm trying to engage with you, the reader, and hopefully make you think. 

One of my husband's and my favorite ways to end the day is to cuddle up in bed, each of us with a good book in hand. We share the occasional passage with each other, but, for the most part, we enjoy very different styles of writing and genres: he has his thrillers, and I have...everything else. And that is the last strike against electronic readers: only one person can read them at a time. Unless you both have one and lie in bed, remote and removed, clicking buttons and running out of batteries equally. This seems very Fahrenheit 451-esque. No, thank you. You may keep your overpriced, cataract-causing doodads. I will be content to be old-fashioned, find my bargains, loan books to friends at the risk of having them washed, and end my day snuggling in bed with my husband, reading away.