Archive | January 2017

Where Is My Wayward Cloud?

Jan13

I type on a Japanese computer protected by a Russian Anti-Virus program, and use a cell phone and tablet manufactured in Korea. All three companies have their support staffs in Indian staffed by personnel that speak English that is not recognized as such. ohio-114092_960_720

Add to that mix that I live off grid, and my internet connectivity is mounted on a silo in a cow pasture. This is where my internet journey begins; on that silo with cows walking around looking at it because they know it is filled with grain. I have no idea where the cows come from, but they eventually end up at the slaughterhouse as they are beef cows. I assume they are American cows; however, they could be Russian spies for all I know. Also, due to this strange arrangement, I cannot determine exactly where my cyber cloud is, but I know its not in my house or hanging out over the silo. It’s just out there somewhere.

My cyber footprint is large, and it causes me to wonder how the cloud thing works. I have a Facebook Account, of course, a blog site, I publish digital books through Kindle which are sold through Amazon, belong to the KDP Kindle Network and several other writing sites. All of those transactions occur somewhere in an invisible cloud that apparently travels around the world.

I believe the cloud spans the world because of my blog site which includes a map that is updated daily, and illustrates what countries have visited your site on any particular day. Today when I logged in, it was not hard to tell that someone had visited my blog site from China because that country is represented in bright orange, and covers most of  Asia. Although I have included comment boxes on my pages, my visitor left no comment but looked at my pages, read my content, looked at my books, and moved on. They were just visiting.

It’s a good thing to have visitors, especially foreign visitors because you know your content is getting out there, but never forget what goes into cyberspace stays in cyberspace. More importantly, always remember people around the world can reach out and touch you anytime they want, and sometimes, their intent is not friendly.

The Tale of Two Cities (a story about human frailties):

Jan5

old-age-360714__340No one saw the old man shuffle in and sit down at the end of the counter, or knew how long he had been sitting there. He ordered a cup of coffee, stirred three sugars into his cup, and sat alone, although, he was surrounded by people. He smiled at a woman leafing through magazines. She turned away. A small boy appeared beside him to look at the pies in the glass counter. His mother snatched him away, and dragged him back to a booth. No one saw the old man leave, or noticed he left two one-dollar bills beside his cup. Another man sat down, saw the bills, and pushed them across the counter to the waitress saying whoever sat there before him left them as a tip. The girl put them in her pocket replying it had been some old bum.

The old man walked on enjoying the warmth of the sun. Every now and then he would smile at someone, and each time they turned away aghast that a street bum should be smiling at them. No one noticed when the old man in the dingy clothes sat down on at the bus stop, except for the woman he sat next to who stood, and walked to the other end of the bench. He walked on, and found himself inside a drugstore, not that he needed anything in the drugstore but someone in the drugstore needed the gift he had to give.

The small boy sat in a high wheel chair, a mass of twisted limbs and jerky movements that caused his little body shudder. Today was a bad day, and the boy looked up at his mother. She smiled down at him, and turned back to the pharmacist. The old man approached the boy’s chair, and smiled at him. The boy smiled back, his small face twisting with the effort. The old man reached out and grasped his hand, and turned away. No one saw the old man leave and only knew he was gone. Gone from cold distant stares, and people who refused to acknowledge his presence, save but for one small boy confined to a wheel chair. He was going, and as he went he heard the mother’s screams as she turned back to her stricken child now standing upright before her. He could not help but linger long enough to hear the small boy assure his mother, “Do not cry, mother. It was an angel.”

Brand New Look

Jan1

 

To my flocks of admirers:

In keeping with the occasion, I got my hard hat out, and pulled my favorite flapper dress out of mouth balls, and went right to work updating my blog page. Come check me out, and let me know what you think.

To my friends and family, a very happy New Year’s Eve.