Rollerbag Goddess Global Communications

I remember, as a child, watching slideshows of other people’s vacations. On real slides. You know, the kind you hold up to the light when you don’t have a projector? Then, of course, there were the home movies. 

Mom had some, of her visits to Puerto Vallarta as a child. The film was grainy, yellowed, darkened by the shadow of time. There was no audio. Yet when she talked us through what was happening, it magically gained technicolor. 

I miss those days. 

Sure, now it’s easier to share your travels. You have all manner of online photo storage capabilities and display options. You can update your Facebook status from the summit of Kilimanjaro (which a friend recently did). You can tweet it in real time, with a photo to boot. It’s quick. It’s easy. And, with a couple of clicks, people can even order their own copies. 

But the soul has been bled out. 

Gone are the descriptions of the scents, the tastes. Gone is the surprise and thrill with the increasing pace of the voice. Gone is the sense that you are sharing something, something more than just an image. Something deep and dew-fresh: the sloughing off of the old and the birth of the new awakening. 

I remember a friend saying the first time she brought her newborn child home from the hospital, the wind hit his cheeks, and she could see the surprise in his eyes. It was the first time he’d felt a breeze. 

That is what online sharing is missing. 

I know the vacation slideshow, even then, was the butt of jokes. It was the holiday letter of my childhood, the proverbial fruitcake. The thing you choked down because you were invited, because you had to, because you didn’t have TiVo. 

But I would love to have someone offer to share their photos with me again…in person. We could set up a projector, pop some popcorn on the stove, invite others. 

Whether you’ve traveled 10 miles or 10,000,000. I’ll come. I’d be thrilled to do so.  

Who’s with me?

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