
Antigua – Harbor Island – South Finger Villas; giggel [CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

It’s strange to think as I sit here, the sky a soft Chicago topaz blue, a few clouds in the distance looking as harmless as cotton candy, that a few clicks down the globe the world is blowing apart at the seams. It’s quiet and still, and yet I watch the Twitter feed about Barbuda, the sister island of Antigua, which lost communication hours ago.
Hours ago.
Which I’m fervently hoping is due to a failure of equipment and only a failure of equipment.
Social media has made a small world of a huge world. Now I find myself worrying about people whose faces I may have never seen, yet still with whom I forged a connection across many borders that don’t exist in the virtual landscape.
So these forms of communication can remove us from one another; they can dehumanize and make it easier to say the things you’d never say to a person standing in front of you. But I don’t see them that way.
For so many of us, they humanize. They give us little windows through which we can see that all the world wide, people are people, regardless of language, regardless of lifestyle, regardless of income.
People are people.
And right now, I’m hoping that all of them are safe, well and unharmed.
For more on my thoughts about Charlottesville and rising bigotry, please read An Open Letter to My Friends of Color.
Check out my full-length novels:
Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)
Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended)
The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.
And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s free!