Learning Curve

Thoughtless



Early morning thunder in my ears, Zeus a busy god with his striking transformers, trees, and a host of things. Vacillating lights out and on as another hit is made.
The old wind-up radio, useful with the power out. We children, not survivors compared to the days when kerosene lamps glowed whether Mother  Nature threw a tantrum.
Broken when the cell phone towers go down and lights off, we are lost.
Grandpa and Gramma had salted meat preserves, homemade canning, and a reliable hand pump that require muscle power.
Tody we panic when the internet retreats to the clouds and wander aimlessly in the forests of civilization halted in what would be minor convenience to those in the past except for when the winds really blew.
The more learned, the more forgotten.

  • Author: JDB (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 22nd, 2024 06:49
  • Comment from author about the poem: Read the short story Forgetfulness. It has the same theme.
  • Category: Sociopolitical
  • Views: 31
  • Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
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Comments +

Comments4

  • Teddy.15

    Fabulous, and I couldn't agree more. 🌹

    • Thoughtless

      Thank your. I always appreciate your opinion dear lady.

    • Cassie58

      Tough times, resilient people. Maybe they aren’t made like that anymore. Survivors. Made me think of my grandparents generation. A good read. Happy Thursday.

      • Thoughtless

        I agree. There are some tough people, young ones today, but they have trouble standing out amidst the Tik Tokkers and Instagrammers.
        I remember reading by kerosene lamps in front of an old hot gas stove. In my grandparent\'s kitchen stood and old wood cooking stove which really heated up the house. I slept in bed in a large room that had a north window out on the north side. The winter didn\'t bother us much with the heavy blankets and a heavy windbreak of trees. That old hand pump ran cold and didn\'t freeze up in the winter. except for very brief periods. And the outhouse, those were worse than the porta potties. My first bedroom, which was in a house built by my Czech grandfather, and my father in a house with a kitchen and bedroom on the ground floor. My bedroom was the basement. It needed no heating, same temp the year around. My parents slept in the bedroom upstairs. The other kids slept on the floor or couch in the living room off the kitchen and bedroom. We had running water but still used an outhouse. Everyone else was up to date in a place called Ness City, Kansas. Not a lot of things to do there except for going to the park in the summer or walking around the town. Town, more like a grease spot on two main two ways. But I liked it there. At least, that's how I remember things. You know how memory is.

      • sorenbarrett

        A thoughtful write that makes a lot of sense. We need a backup system.

      • Tony36

        Well written and expressed



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