This noun, in use from 1656 to 1864, means “chatter” or “babbling.”  Maybe the word was replaced by “phone call.” Now we have e-blateration on Facebook and Twitter. I like keeping up with family and friends, but wading through the blateration is a botheration. Even so, I contribute to the blateration as if everyone is keenly interested in the moments of my life.

I got up at 6, watched the early news, checked my email, had an e-chat with ComCast customer support, and toasted some Irish soda bread. Oh, I unloaded the dishwasher, too.  A Facebook spam filter would have snared that non-news, but the only Facebook spam filter is to block all posts.

When I read a post, I want to read something interesting, learn something new, be invited to a party or to be a change-maker in my community, nation, or world. Cute things my grandkids do make wonderful reading. But why should I care about the cute things your cousins’ grandkids do? 

It seems there is a place for emails and phone calls (cute things grandkids do) and a place for Facebook posts: interesting and/or important information, funny things, good movies and good reads, issues we can grapple with, like the ones posted by Nicholas D. Kristof, and things to think about – lots of stuff more interesting than unloading the dishwasher and my neighbor’s niece’s second cousin’s first tooth.

If I start thinking that toasting Irish soda bread is an event worthy of publication, I am afraid that unloading the dishwasher will be my next headline.

This will be an unpopular post, for everyone deserves to have their say. My only excuse is that I am a crabby person today, torn between reveling in the comforts of home and missing the simplicity of life in my little room in India. Add that to this bit of blateration: I still have the miserable cold I caught on the plane, and that is keeping me from getting on with my life in Bolingbrook.


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