Judith Viorst: A thoroughly modern sixty

I'm slogging along down the information highway.
I'd rather read Yeats than my computer screen,
But I'm told that I cannot survive the twenty-first century
Unless I can manage to master this machine,
Which, I have also been told, does not really hate me,
In spite of the many hostile things it does.
I aspire to being a thoroughly modern sixty,
But sometimes I don't like what is as much as what was.

I'm listnening to a recorded menu of options
And suddenly my brain is turning to mush.
Do I want my prescription refilled or departures to Denver?
And when I decide this, which buttons do I push?
And why can't the calls I'm making simply be answered
By living breathing human women and men?
I aspire to being a thoroughly modern sixty,
But sometimes I don't like right now as much as back then.

I've just returned from a restful ten-day vacation.
One hour later I'm needing ten days more,
What wiht voice mail and E-mail and faxes demanding attention,
Plus all those FedExes delivered to my door.
Next year, I've been told, I should travel with a cell phone,
So everyone can reach me faster than fast.
I aspire to being a thoroughly modern sixty,
But sometimes I don't like the present as much as the past.

In order to be a thoroughly modern sixty
I'll learn to embrace the new technology
By conversing with virtual rather than actual people
And recording pills by pressing button three.
I'll never leave home without my modem and pager,
Remaining in touch with all who so desire.
I aspire to being a thoroughly modern sixty,
But sometimes I dont like the sixty to which I aspire.