Charlotte Latvala: Let me check my paper calendar
“Can you do lunch next Wednesday? Around 12:30?”
My mind froze at this simple question from a friend. (I’m not a fan of quick decisions, even the most innocuous ones.)
“Um, maybe? Possibly. Honestly, I need to check my calendar. At home.”
Some years ago, I could get away with this and not get weird looks. In simpler times, people kept calendars on their desks. On their kitchen counters. Pinned to a bulletin board.
Now, the response is likely to be “Can’t you just check your phone?” To which I give a blank stare and make a joke about being dumb as a rock when it comes to technology.
“Mom, I can show you how to put stuff onto your calendar in about five minutes,” suggested one of my adult children the other day. “It’s super easy and then you’ve always got it with you.”
I vehemently resist such talk. (Plus, I actually do know how to enter things into my electronic calendar. I choose not to.)
The truth is, I’m not ready to let go of my spiral-bound monthly planner. It’s my grown-up security blanket.
I can’t really explain my deep attachment to this common object. How do you explain a passion that knows no bounds? A love that defies logic, common sense, and the trappings of the modern world?
Every year, I order a new planner with fierce joy and eager anticipation. When it arrives, I smooth each page and jot down key events in the neatest handwriting I can muster. Spring break at my daughter’s college, possible vacation weeks, even the due date for bills each month.
My monthly planner anchors me. It gives me a tangible look into the future, along with the hope that if only I write it down, I can handle it. I won’t go so far as to say it keeps me organized (I would need a complete brain and personality transplant for that to happen), but I do feel soothed when I touch the smooth, cool paper and flip ahead from January to March, April to June, and so on.
I keep my old calendars in a box under my desk. Every now and then I page through them, trying to puzzle out what was happening in March 2013 or August 2015. My scrawled notes to myself are direct entries into the past — deadlines, kids’ events, appointments. Life’s various challenges, over and done with.
In many ways, those old calendars are better than photos. They bring me back to the mental place I was in that particular day, in that particular year. They give me perspective on where I’ve been and where I’m going.
And there’s another reason to defer to the paper calendar. It gives me time to pause and decide whether to say yes to lunch, a project, or some potentially aggravating and time-sucking volunteer thing.
Is this wrong? Is it sneaky? Is it underhanded?
I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.
Charlotte is a columnist for The Times. You can reach her at charlottelatvala@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on Beaver County Times: Latvala: Let me check my paper calendar
