__________________________________
Bed Bots and Beyond
By Stephanie Kemp
Bed Bots and Beyond
By Stephanie Kemp
April 24, 2023
4:36am
I saw a delivery robot gliding down a sidewalk on Sunset Boulevard last night at dusk, in front of a liquor store. Her name was Marion.
She was dressed like a good humor cooler with AWD stroller wheels using her C3PO eyes to look for her mom, while hoping no one would kick her.
My husband, possibly worried that his wife might be worried about a robot’s safety, explained that “it’s programmed to avoid potholes, and follow traffic laws and sidewalk etiquette."
(Was I? Worried about a robot?)
We were driving to see AIR after swinging by the Bed Bath & Beyond Going Out of Business Sale! to get a shower caddy for our daughter, who is going to college in 5 months. (While “driving to see AIR” might read like the strangest part of that sentence, it was the only part that felt real.)
We have to get the caddy before it is gone!
Delivery Robots!
College!
I had no idea we were here,
Even though I knew it.
With the shower caddy safely on my lap (it was the last one), I was almost relieved to see Marion cross paths with her robot twin (also named Marion) for a brief moment before they took opposite turns at the corner and went their separate ways again. Full of bounty. And promise of a future.
Like sisters, god willing and/or hopefully.
(Only one of our daughters is starting college. The other is panicked to be stuck with us, her loving parents en route to see AIR, alone.)
How many (current) siblings do the delivery robots have?
Are they all named Marion?
What are the (former) delivery humans doing today?
Do they have money to do it?
Do they want to kick the robots? Or anyone else?
Where are the moms?
How come I can never (consistently) cheer for Ben Affleck?
What about all of our unused blue coupons?
____________________
The world only looks the same if you squint your eyes.
And ears.
And look around in slivers.
But you have to be lucky to see it.
Or a bully.
Or both.
____________________
“What will we need to read or hold in our hands in 2 years?”
This is what the people who publish books want the people who write books to try to answer with their books, and/or promise to answer in their proposals for books.
Anything that is real.
Anything that is imagined.
Anything that matters.
Anything that helps us hold onto our stories, or dream up new ones.
Anything that connects us...
I am a book (publisher, writer, reader) optimist.
That said, (and if you are talking to people outside of the book world), you might also want to hold on to:
A football.
A menu.
A cupcake.
Each other.
Remember?
(If not, you should try to.)
I am not yelling at anyone.
I am screaming for everyone.
Screaming that:
A lot can happen in two years.
Ask a mom who had a baby.
Ask a dad who has a job.
Ask a dad who lost his baby.
Ask a mom who had a job.
Ask a friend with early Alzheimer’s.
Ask a kid who skipped school
(that day).
Ask a sapling.
Ask your favorite lake, if you can find it.
Ask your doctor, if you have one.
Ask Siri.
Ask the Democrats.
Ask the Republicans.
Ask the Supreme Court.
But know that they might not answer you.
They might be busy.
Trying.
Or crying.
Or dying.
Or lying.
Ask yourself.
Where am I?
What am I holding in my hands?
Where did everyone go?
And then forget about the whole two year thing, and just start with you want to hold today.
Even if it is a cup of hot coffee delivered by a robot.
We have to start (not just stop) somewhere.
And no one can be only an optimist (or pessimist) in 2023.
It might already be too little too late but,
Have a nice day.
I am sure someone will honor your coupons.
But no one gets (or deserves) more than 20% off, no matter who is delivering the news.
4:36am
I saw a delivery robot gliding down a sidewalk on Sunset Boulevard last night at dusk, in front of a liquor store. Her name was Marion.
She was dressed like a good humor cooler with AWD stroller wheels using her C3PO eyes to look for her mom, while hoping no one would kick her.
My husband, possibly worried that his wife might be worried about a robot’s safety, explained that “it’s programmed to avoid potholes, and follow traffic laws and sidewalk etiquette."
(Was I? Worried about a robot?)
We were driving to see AIR after swinging by the Bed Bath & Beyond Going Out of Business Sale! to get a shower caddy for our daughter, who is going to college in 5 months. (While “driving to see AIR” might read like the strangest part of that sentence, it was the only part that felt real.)
We have to get the caddy before it is gone!
Delivery Robots!
College!
I had no idea we were here,
Even though I knew it.
With the shower caddy safely on my lap (it was the last one), I was almost relieved to see Marion cross paths with her robot twin (also named Marion) for a brief moment before they took opposite turns at the corner and went their separate ways again. Full of bounty. And promise of a future.
Like sisters, god willing and/or hopefully.
(Only one of our daughters is starting college. The other is panicked to be stuck with us, her loving parents en route to see AIR, alone.)
How many (current) siblings do the delivery robots have?
Are they all named Marion?
What are the (former) delivery humans doing today?
Do they have money to do it?
Do they want to kick the robots? Or anyone else?
Where are the moms?
How come I can never (consistently) cheer for Ben Affleck?
What about all of our unused blue coupons?
____________________
The world only looks the same if you squint your eyes.
And ears.
And look around in slivers.
But you have to be lucky to see it.
Or a bully.
Or both.
____________________
“What will we need to read or hold in our hands in 2 years?”
This is what the people who publish books want the people who write books to try to answer with their books, and/or promise to answer in their proposals for books.
Anything that is real.
Anything that is imagined.
Anything that matters.
Anything that helps us hold onto our stories, or dream up new ones.
Anything that connects us...
I am a book (publisher, writer, reader) optimist.
That said, (and if you are talking to people outside of the book world), you might also want to hold on to:
A football.
A menu.
A cupcake.
Each other.
Remember?
(If not, you should try to.)
I am not yelling at anyone.
I am screaming for everyone.
Screaming that:
A lot can happen in two years.
Ask a mom who had a baby.
Ask a dad who has a job.
Ask a dad who lost his baby.
Ask a mom who had a job.
Ask a friend with early Alzheimer’s.
Ask a kid who skipped school
(that day).
Ask a sapling.
Ask your favorite lake, if you can find it.
Ask your doctor, if you have one.
Ask Siri.
Ask the Democrats.
Ask the Republicans.
Ask the Supreme Court.
But know that they might not answer you.
They might be busy.
Trying.
Or crying.
Or dying.
Or lying.
Ask yourself.
Where am I?
What am I holding in my hands?
Where did everyone go?
And then forget about the whole two year thing, and just start with you want to hold today.
Even if it is a cup of hot coffee delivered by a robot.
We have to start (not just stop) somewhere.
And no one can be only an optimist (or pessimist) in 2023.
It might already be too little too late but,
Have a nice day.
I am sure someone will honor your coupons.
But no one gets (or deserves) more than 20% off, no matter who is delivering the news.