The young people at work continue to communicate with me in their youthful way.
There was one five-minute period recently during which they Skyped me, emailed me, and texted me, and while I was reading their texts the landline phone rang. (The landline phone was the hospital telling me that my brother was out of surgery and had just needed a little extra Valium to get past the emergence delirium. Now it’s just a two-week wait for the lymph biopsy.)
I was settling back down after all that when I found that one of them had texted me literally WHILE we were Skyping. I had to set her straight. I said it was like Dave and Buster’s here at my house with all the alerts and bells and notifications. Grandma can’t handle the mental overload. One communication method at a time, please.
During the 1917 pandemic there was no doubt some elderly bank official working at home, complaining that there were messengers leaving cards with the butler at the same time that the footman was asking him what he wanted for tea.