Memories of the Heart: Reflecting on a Timeless Holiday

My spouse excels in transforming our home with each holiday, with Valentine’s Day being no exception. The festive spirit extends to various occasions like Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and Halloween, adorning our abode with seasonal embellishments. Promptly after the celebration, the decorations are carefully stowed away, making room for the upcoming festivities. Today, as I brewed my morning coffee, I observed the Valentine’s Day decor neatly stacked for storage, while the Easter adornments had already emerged from their storage nook.

Last week, I shared a romantic poem as a finale, with a promise to unveil another piece inspired by the holiday that recently passed, influenced by the muse behind much of my poetic work. I shall conclude today’s Wramblings with that very poem.

Due to recent health challenges, my ventures outside have been limited, restricting my usual philosophical musings. Consequently, today’s Wrambling might be shorter than usual. However, once I delve into my Wramblings, ideas tend to flow incessantly. I will revisit some topics overlooked from the previous week.

Growing up in modest financial circumstances with my single mother, I was particularly conscious of my attire. The thought of appearing in public with tattered clothing was daunting. Interestingly, which word in the preceding sentence could be phonetically segmented to describe the state of my clothing? Hint: it’s the word highlighted in bold.

Returning to the topic, despite my early apprehensions about clothing, my first admiration dates back to the early 1970s. A colleague, whose father also happened to be my boss, would boldly sport a tee shirt beneath his dress shirt, featuring a conspicuous tear separating the collar trim. Conversely, I hesitated to wear socks with visible holes in the heels. Interestingly, contemporary fashion embraces intentional distressing, with designer items flaunting torn knees, frayed collars, and prominently displayed patches and stitches.

The realm of Artificial Intelligence (AI) is rapidly expanding, permeating various facets of daily life, notably evident in social media platforms and media presentations. While AI is not a novel concept, I introduced the rudiments of Artificial Intelligence in my bachelor’s courses on Automation in Manufacturing in the early 2000s. Leveraging extensive stored data, AI predicts or generates statistically probable outcomes. A common illustration is the auto-correct feature in word processors or text input devices, offering suggestions or corrections as one types.

I humorously dub this feature “auto-defect,” as it often fails to grasp the intended message or tone. Although I rely on it for punctuation verification, the placement of commas remains a nuanced art. Autocorrect operates on the premise of robotic precision, disregarding the nuances of conversational language. Unlike human communication, where qualifiers like “Actually, what I meant to say was…” are commonplace, autodefect may flag such phrases, suggesting a more direct approach. Furthermore, the autosuggest function now extends suggestions to incomplete words, posing a new challenge.

In creative domains like art, graphics, and writing, AI may encroach upon the realm of human expression. While AI excels at prediction, it lacks the essence of human emotion, which artists infuse into their creations. The intangible qualities of emotion, heart, and soul imbue artworks with unique value and resonance, elements beyond the reach of artificial intelligence.

Reflecting on my aspirations, I have often harbored a desire to pursue writing. While some have suggested penning a book, the intricacies of crafting fiction elude me. Fiction writers possess the remarkable ability to navigate diverse scenarios and weave intricate narratives, a skill I admire. In my view, fiction writing is akin to “dreaming aloud,” a talent I find awe-inspiring. Notably, my collection of poems is available in both the Wellsville and Friendship libraries.

The evolution of idioms and slang over centuries intrigues me. These expressions, though seemingly intuitive, prompt curiosity about their origins and transmission across generations. Here are a few noteworthy phrases that resonate with timeless wisdom:

  • A stitch in time saves nine.
  • Cutting through the red tape…
  • Like pulling strings (Could this be from unraveling a ball or scooping spaghetti out of a bowl?)
  • One can’t see the forest for the trees.
  • Tearing at your heartstrings…
  • Don’t be a Wiesenheimer (Given my name, this was a common refrain).
  • I’ll be hornswoggled.
  • You’ll end up in the Hoosegow.
  • At the drop of a hat…
  • You’re barking up the wrong tree.
  • Burning the midnight oil.
  • Caught red-handed.
  • In the nick of time.
  • Paint the town red.

Below is the poetic piece dedicated to my wife as a Valentine’s Day token, as promised last week.

For inquiries, suggestions, or comments, feel free to reach out to me at [email protected].