A few years ago I was never without my day planner. I loved that brown zippered book that held my calendar, notes to myself, and bits of my life that didn’t have another home. It went everywhere with me.
Its front pocket held a calculator, its A-Z dividers organized my address book, and its back pages had slots for business cards. People who became central in my life eventually got their card taped down into regular address pages.
And there was the calendar. The calendar where I wrote appointments, birthdays and notes. It became something of an art project. I referred to the pages for years afterwards to determine when something happened. I marked out vacations, appointments, lunches with friends, conferences, and hundreds of other things.
I joking referred to my beloved day planner as “my second brain.” Now it sits on a shelf, untouched for months – maybe years – but still close at hand. My phone has taken over its function and offers a handy option for backing up to “the cloud” to I no longer need to flip through the pages zipped into that brown book.
You know I love technology, and I don’t want to do without it, but I confess I do miss the beauty of a well-used and loved calendar page. Tidy typed notes just aren’t the same as multi-colored scribbles, complete with doodles. I suppose this is progress.
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