Staring into the Abyss,

Slipping Slowly Into Madness

 

And I gave my heart to know wisdom,

and to know madness and folly:

I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit.

— Ecclesiastes 1:17

           

 

            First things first: I am Technologically Impaired. It's ridiculous how much I don't know about the electronic gizmos that define our lives these days. Now that we have a DVR that not only records TV shows but displays who is on the phone when the phone rings (how DO it KNOW?), I feel very deluxe and special . . . but, minor details, I don't even know how to change the darn channel. I used to know at least that much, before we upgraded.

 

So it's a crap-shoot, with me, on whether or not technology is a blessing. My BlackBerry is a case in point. It's my prized possession, but I still don't really know how to use the thing very well. I got it 2½ years ago when I became the editor of the magazine for RFD-TV, an international television network promoting rural lifestyles.

 

I'd never had anything like a BlackBerry before. So I didn't know how dumb it was to put my own name and contact information, including my new work email address, into the electronic address book. What? So I could call or email myself? Or in case I forgot my own name?

 

Oh, well. In my clueless, klutzy style, I entered it, never used it, forgot all about it, and went merrily on my way.

 

            About a year ago, for various reasons, I asked to step down to the part-time role of contributing editor. In the job change, I got a new email address from the company. Apparently, my old one was reassigned to a young woman named April, our circulation manager. She works in Nashville with a lot of the other people in the company. I'd never met her or talked to her, never had a reason to correspond with her. She didn't know me from Adam or Eve, other than as a byline in the magazine.

 

            OK . . . now fast-forward to last weekend. My Beloved and I took our daughter Maddy down to the exciting Husker football game. When you're 9, that's a great time . . . for a while. As the game wore on, Maddy's football enjoyment was beginning to wane.

 

            So I gave her an unexpected treat - my BlackBerry. Besides the business stuff, it's loaded with a few games. She loves using it to pass the time and pretend to be a big-shot teenager. So, she missed the most exciting quarter of the most exciting game of the year, Nebraska vs. Oklahoma, while silently hunched over that little electronic gizmo, enraptured. Kids today. Sheesh.

 

            After the game, which, miraculously, we won, she gave it back to me. Everything was fine until Monday morning, when I received this startling email from the aforementioned April in Nashville:

 

 

 

Susan:

 

For some reason I am getting text you are sending from your blackberry to your Mom.

 

On Nov 7, 2009, at 8:29 PM, Susan Darst Williams wrote:

 

Mom, I still have time to stare into the abyis and slip away slowly into madness. . .

 

UNLESS you give me a phone, laptop, ipod, idog. . .

THE LIST CONTINUES UNTIL WE GET HOME!

 

 

 

            Whaaaaaaa?????

 

            Hunhhhhhh?????

 

            My cheeks flushed. Yes, that's my name. Did I write that? I didn't remember writing anything remotely LIKE that. What the heck? And hey: I know how to spell "abyss." What's going on? Why would I write those things to my mother? Was I going crazy? Had the excitement of the game splintered me into multiple personalities?!?!

 

But then I recognized the "abyss" and "madness" line as being from a certain movie - The Grinch, starring the nutcase actor Jim Carrey. It is Maddy's favorite movie. She has a lot of the humorous lines memorized.

 

AHA!

 

            And I knew those electronics were all on her Christmas list, though FAT CHANCE she was going to get any of them, and she KNEW that. We'd DISCUSSED it. Ad NAUSEUM. But it would be just like her to beg and badger me, anyway. She must've written it. That makes sense.

 

So the "Mom" in the email didn't refer to my sweet little 80-year-old mother, but to me. That, I could grasp.

 

            But how did the message wind up in, of all places, April's email inbox in Nashville?

 

            I finally realized that Maddy must have advanced past games to the email functions of my BlackBerry. Oh, no! Next, she'll be ordering her OWN Christmas presents, online!

 

She must have found my name in my BlackBerry's address book at the football game . . . and then typed out that note . . . and sent it via email . . . thinking it would go to me . . . but the message was delivered to the unsuspecting circulation manager in Nashville instead.

 

And that innocent bystander of a drive-by email must have concluded that I was a total weirdo in need of serious psychiatric medication, writing a message like that to my mother, at my age, begging for toys, and so incompetent with technology that it somehow got routed to her.

 

            I loved April's gracious email reply to my humiliated explanation and apology:

 

 

            Thank goodness it wasn't something embarrassing huh?

 

Have a good day and thanks for making me laugh!!!

 

April

 

           

            April, you are so, so welcome.

 

Now I am just going to take my bottle of vodka and stare into the abyss some more, slipping a little MORE deeply into madness . . . knowing for sure that I'm no match for a 9-year-old equipped with a little modern-day technology. †