• 52°

Julie Seedorf: Lives can be a mix of the old and the new

Sprinkled Notes by Julie Seedorf

 

I do not know why I have the urge to voice my opinion about politics on social media and in this column. I want to keep my mouth shut, but apparently for some reason I see the need to spout off, which either gets me in trouble, or gets people to attack my point of view. Lately, politics gets all of us riled up and enraged, feeling as if we want to drop out of the world, and we sacrifice friendships because our opinion differs. And it does no good, because we don’t listen to one another. Is this paragraph worrying you that I might have opened my mouth again about the dreaded word: politics?

I am going to express my opinion today and keep expressing it, but not about that dreaded word. Since I feel the need to always have an opinion I have moved on to other important topics, such as the one I cover today.

All appliances die. Yes, they do. They actually do. You might not witness their death if you leave them to be adopted by another owner before they meet their demise. I know it is hard to let go of that which you love, and feel guilty for replacing a beloved appliance for a newer model, but that is life.

This has been a tough year for our appliance family. We tend to hold on to the oldsters, probably because we don’t want anyone to let go of us to be adopted out to the wrinkle farm or put out to pasture.

First to go this year was Ralph the refrigerator. He felt he didn’t want to be cold all the time, so he decided to share with us what it is like for him to live in a warmer climate. Twenty-six years he shared his life with us and Daisy the dishwasher. They must have had a conversation across the kitchen. At 26, Daisy said she had enough always cleaning up after us. She wasn’t going to wash any more dishes in the time she had left. She and Ralph left together side by side on their trip to — well they didn’t tell us where they decided to retire to, so we couldn’t come after them and beg them to stay.

Spring arrived and Plumeria, our plum tree, said goodbye to us. She couldn’t fight her disease any longer. She, too, was 26 years old. She must have heard about Ralph and Daisy, so she made the decision to have no more treatment. It was time. With sadness, we watched our beautiful Plumeria succumb to her disease, but she left us a legacy to remember her in a stump and slices that now sit in our house, reminding us of her beauty in the form of an end table.

Twenty-six-year-old Aristotle, our air conditioner, began ailing, too. I think he was jealous and wanted to retire as he was missing Ralph, Daisy and Plumeria. But we talked him into staying, and with a little electrician and plumber’s visit, his health improved and hopefully he will be with us a few more years.

But the last straw was Catriona, our coffee maker. She was young, only about 4 years old. I fear we worked her to death, and that is why she left us at such a young age. Catriona is the one that greeted us with her aroma and a full pot of coffee first thing in the morning. She kept us going throughout the day. When we needed energy, or were sad or happy, it was Catriona who poured her richness into our cups and fed our creativity, soothed our sadness and kept our cold hands warm when we wrapped them around our cup. She would surprise us with different flavors and different grinds.

We had the hardest time replacing Catriona. We wanted one just like her. We admired her personality — the way she poured the coffee, the way the flavor was just right and the fact we could dispense her one cup at a time, keeping her coffee warm for four hours without a bitter taste or scum. She was one of a kind, and we could not find one just like her.

Yes, appliances die. They force us to move on from their death to new choices, to new ways of doing things. Their replacements introduce us to new technology. We can either learn how to run them or we can sit in the past, wishing our old ways were back and be stuck.

Our lives can be a mix of both — the old and the new. I recently posted a video I created along with one of my quotes — I made it up, but who knows, someone else out there probably could have thought of it, too, and I didn’t know. The quote is “The winds of change will come, sway with the wind and you will not break.” — sprinklednotes.com

Look closely at the video on my author page, and the tree in the background swaying is Plumaria. She didn’t break, she went on to share part of my home with me, inside, warm, still beautiful and reminding me to embrace the wind because it may bring new beauty and love into our lives.

Wells resident Julie Seedorf’s column appears every Thursday. Email her at hermionyvidaliabooks@gmail.com.