This Celebration Will be Short-Lived!

            Boy, it has been difficult trying to decide what to blog about.

            That’s because I try to avoid political topics but at the same time want to scream with utter delight that our state’s  (South Carolina's) presidential primary is past, i.e. the phone calls and television ads are gone.

            For a while, any way.

            Oh, yes, they will be back.  I don’t know exactly when they will start again.  Perhaps August.  More likely we’ll be flooded starting in September and going through the November election.

            Having the primary over with makes it awfully appropriate that we’re in the midst of “National Clean Out Your Inbox Week.”

            You see, the political infiltration didn’t stop with phone calls and TV ads; the candidates and/or their campaigns and representatives filled our computer’s inboxes. 

Many of us were notified every time a local “anybody” endorsed a candidate.  We got e-mail to let us know where candidates were speaking and eating – and shaking hands and riding their buses and caravans, when their spouses were joining them or where the spouses would be speaking.

This week also just happens to be “No Name Calling Week.”  Boy, we could have used that last week or the whole last month or even always and forever.

Since I’m always so intrigued by these off-the-wall observances, I guess it’s only appropriate to point out that Sunday is “Curmudgeons Day.”  The Free Dictionary (online) defines a curmudgeon as “an ill-tempered person full of resentment and stubborn notions.” 

The way campaigns are run these days, the way so many politicians bellow out about other politicians, the phone calls, the e-mails – these all seem to turn me into a curmudgeon.

Maybe that’s why I think another special observance this week is fitting when talking about politics. 

Friday is “Thomas Crapper Day” – and I’ll make no other comment about that.

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PS -- Make no mistake about it; I love our country and I still think we are fortunate to have the right to vote.  Still, I'm somewhat of a curmudgeon with the political atmosphere as it is.

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Well, It Wasn't "Howdy-Doody!"

In my last post on this blog, I wrote about some of the crazy messages left on answering machines when callers were asked to leave a shoe size.

Well, there’s more, but not about shoes, although still about answering machines.

There was a time, quite a few years ago, when I asked callers who wanted a return call to leave name, phone number and the name of a favorite TV show.

This was before there were oodles of channels and all kinds of offerings.

A friend from church called and left his name, phone number and said his favorite show was “Baywatch.” Yep, that’s the one that featured shapely females who were somewhat scantily clad. Then there was a second call from the same man; this time he said, “Sherry, don’t tell my wife what I said about my favorite show. P-l-e-a-s-e.”

I think about those two calls every time I see him.

One lady caller took forever deciding on the name of a show to designate as her favorite. She literally had a long discussion with herself about whether to leave one program or another or another. Obviously this woman took the instruction quite seriously and wanted to be sure she had her absolute favorite recorded. Maybe she thought there was a prize or something.

The first President Bush – George H. W. Bush – called while he was still vice president but running for president. Along with a message, he left the name of his favorite show. No, I’m not revealing what it was.

After that call, I changed the message for a while to the following: “Hi. I know you don’t like answering machines, but if the vice president of the United States can leave a message, you can, too, so please leave your name and number.”

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Drawing the Line

Sometimes I just wonder where we draw the line, and I’m wondering that again now.

This time, it has to do with government. (That’s a shock, huh?)

Throughout the country, officials at different governmental levels are working to ban texting while driving.

Some argue that texting while driving is dangerous and outright absurd. Some say that talking on a cell phone while driving is just as hazardous as texting.

I’ve even heard differing viewpoints about whether hands-free use of the cell phone is less distracting than holding a phone while talking. There are studies that show both sides of that.

My concern today, though, is not whether or not it’s safe to do any of these but instead how far the government should go in regulating people’s lives.

Years ago, when I was a member of the SC senate, one of my colleagues introduced legislation to prohibit people from reading (newspapers, books, magazines and such) while driving.

Then another senator offered an amendment to prohibit people from scratching their elbows while driving. After all, he argued, scratching one’s elbow means one hand is not on the steering wheel and the other arm might involuntarily move. This, he said, was a definite distraction.

Of course his point was that a government cannot outlaw every possible distraction.

A parent who turns around to look at a child in the back seat is endangering the lives of everyone in that car as well as others on the road. Should the government outlaw turning around momentarily while driving?

Oprah Winfrey has started a campaign to stop texting while driving but not through the government. She asks all of her celebrity guests on her TV show to sign a pledge not to text while driving. There are others who are doing the same sort of thing.

I know I shouldn’t text while driving but am I less likely to do so because of a governmental restriction?

Where do you think we draw the line?

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Do You Remember the Party Line? (This Means the Phone, Not Politics!)

Brother Rod is an oddity of the human race. If you're a long-time reader of this blog, you've met him before. He's been interviewed by PBS, written about in Harper's and talked about in smoke-filled rooms.

Among his other ventures, he writes a weekly column. Today, I'm sharing his most recent column, just 'cause I think it's hilarious and because I can identify with it:

Facebook Friends
By now, you’ve probably heard of the Internet phenomenon called Facebook, even if you are “Old People” like Yours Truly.

To most of the Young Folks, keeping up with the latest Internet fad is easy. It’s second nature. They grew up with the Internet. They understand how to use the Internet. They get it.

But to us Old People, it doesn’t come so easily. It pretty much has to be drilled into us before we even come close to catching on.

There’s too much, and it moves too fast. We can’t keep up.

And if we TRY to keep up, it makes us dizzy, and we end up having to take an extra dose of our medication….or an extra afternoon nap.

Most of us Old People first learn about these new Internet innovations after they’ve caused some trouble, forcing the National News Media to write about them.

Many times, they’re a factor in some sort of violent crime, even murder.

I never knew there were websites that taught people how to make bombs until some wacko used a bomb made from Internet instructions to blow somebody up!

But then, I read about it in the National News Media.

After a website is connected to a murder or two, the whole world hears about it.

And, if you believe everything you read, these websites are killin’ people: MySpace seems to have killed some people; Craigslist is reported to have killed some people; and now, Facebook is said to have killed some people. (It should be noted, however, that GUNS do not kill people… criminals do!)

Anyway, because of all their notoriety, lots of new Old People have now heard of these Internet websites. But, for the most part, the Old People still don’t have a clue what they really are.

So I thought I would offer you a bit of explanation about Facebook, in which I happen to be a participant, so therefore I am qualified to explain it – one Old Person to another. (If you are reading this column in a your local community newspaper, incidentally, the odds are very strong that you are an Old Person. Remember this fact: Young Folks read the Internet; Old People read newspapers. It’s true.)

So, pay attention, Old People – and elbow the Old Person sitting beside you to wake ‘em up – while I explain the Facebook Friends phenomenon:

1. It’s a computer thing. (If I’ve lost you already, stop reading, and go back to reading your newspaper.)

2. It’s on the Electronic Internet, also known at the World Wide Web. While the Internet is still a mystery to most Old People, I have invented a way of explaining it that most Old People can understand: Think back to the old days of the Telephone, and remember what was known as a “Party Line”. Now just imagine that everyone in the whole world is on the same party line… except instead of talking, we’re sending each other words and pictures. That’s the Internet…the World Wide Web.

3. Now, to understand Facebook, think of a Telephone Answering Machine. When somebody calls you, if you don’t answer, they get a recorded message from you, and then they leave a message. Facebook is just like that on the Internet, ‘cept, once again, instead of TALKING, it’s just written words and pictures… and when a friend tries to contact you on the Internet, instead of leaving a voice message, they leave their message in words and pictures.

4. If it’s a Party Line with everybody in the world on it, other people would get to see all your messages, right? Wrong! That’s where your Facebook Friends come in handy.

Facebook allows you to choose the people you will allow to read your messages and see your pictures. Those people are your Facebook Friends. You can ask anyone whose email address you happen to know to become your Facebook Friend… and if they accept, you will now be listed on each others Facebook page as Friends… and you’ll be able to keep up with each other by checking in from time to time.

Now that you know what all the hubbub is about, I’ll invite you to become my personal Facebook Friend, with all the rights and privileges accorded thereto, herewith, whereas, hither, thither and yon.

And, now that you understand the essence of this Internet fad, next week I plan to introduce you to a few of my Facebook Friends, and tell you what they’ve been up to lately. They’re characters, they are. A hoot.

That’s all for this week. It’s 2:00pm already… time for a nap before I eat supper at 3:30 pm…. like Old People do.

Is This a Phone or What?

Two days ago I bought a new cell phone. This new phone can do all kinds of things. It synchronizes a calendar on the phone with the calendar on my computer. It takes pictures. It takes videos. It will even access the Internet. I left the phone store SO excited, just like a child with a new toy.
The joy didn’t last long. Yes, there are a lot of things this phone can do. The trouble is that I can’t do any of them!
It took me about six hours to figure out how to answer the doggone thing! Within 24 hours I had actually figured out how to call out on the phone.
For a while, I’ve thought it was great how people could have different ringtones for different callers or groups of callers. One tone for family, one for friends, perhaps another for co-workers.
So, I sat down with the phone and the manual to set up those ringtones. The instructions were to go to a contact’s name, select “options” and then “advanced.” Well, there was no “advanced” on the screen. I looked everywhere; I scrolled up and I scrolled down, but still couldn’t locate anything that said “advanced.”
After about two hours, I decided that, for the time being, I’d just settle for the same ringtone for everything and everybody. With a bit of looking, I found a ringtones folder and opened it. A message popped up saying the folder was empty and there were no ringtones available!
No ringtones available? This is a phone we’re talking about, right????

Dreaded Middle-of-the-Night Phone Call

Every parent dreads the middle-of-the-night phone call.
I’ve gotten one of those calls. It was over a decade ago; daughter Tiffany had been in a wreck and wasn’t expected to survive. (She did, but that’s a whole story by itself.)
Parents fear those calls with good reason, and once a parent receives one, the dread increases. I got to the point that any ringing phone which roused me from sleep caused concern.
Several years after my daughter’s wreck, there was a phone call around 3:30 in the morning. This time it was my son in college. It was his voice on the phone, so I knew this couldn’t be all bad.
After I answered, he said, “Mom, this is Tree.” (He always tells me his name when he calls, although I’ve never figured out why. He’s my only son, so when a male voice says “Mom” – well, that’s pretty much a clue as to who is on the other end of the line.)
Once he identified himself, he very matter-of-factly asked if I had Andy’s phone number. Sure. I calmly told him I had that number somewhere and would get it for him, which I did. I returned to the phone, shared the phone number with him and he thanked me. He was so casual; he acted like this just as well be the middle of the day.
Finally, with curiosity getting the best of me, I asked, “Tree, do you know what time it is?” He said he thought maybe it was about 3 in the morning. Yes, I agreed, it was indeed about that time, which still didn’t seem to faze him one bit.
Then I had another question: “Tree, didn’t you have Andy’s phone number?”
“Oh, yeah,” he answered, “but I didn’t want to turn on the light to get it because I didn’t want to wake up my roommate.”
Well, at least his roommate got some sleep that night.


Copyright 2008 Sherry Martschink

Who Needs a Home Phone?

I don’t have a home phone. Haven’t had one in a long time.
With the popularity of cell phones, home phones seem dispensable at certain stages of life. Recently, though, I began thinking perhaps I’ve passed from needing a home phone to not needing one and then back again to needing one. I misplaced the cell phone. Well, maybe misplaced is too mild; I absolutely lost the phone. I looked everywhere. I looked in the typical places where I find “lost” things – in the refrigerator, in the pantry, in cabinets, in drawers.
Before long, I realized just how much I depend on such a small contraption. The little phone is a link to the rest of the world, a piece of security, maybe even an addiction.
Typically, there are incoming calls on a fairly regular basis, so perhaps I would just wait to hear the phone ring. I waited and waited and waited. This day, no calls. Maybe I could ask someone to call. A little like “call a friend” on the popular TV show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Who could I get to give me a call so that I could hear the phone ringing in its hiding place? Let me think.
Then I realized how crazy this was. How in the world did I think I was going to contact someone to ask the person to make the call? I had no way to call anyone!
Yep, I was in a predicament. I could drive to a pay phone booth – if they even still make those things – or go to a friend’s house to call, but then I wouldn’t be at the house to hear the phone ringing.
So I went back to searching. Then it dawned on me that I could e-mail someone to get that much needed phone call. And that’s what I did. I e-mailed someone who usually is at her computer for work. No response. Then I tried someone else. No response.
Finally, I saw on the computer screen that a friend from law school was on-line in Columbia. I sent him an instant message. Again, no response.
Since it was almost time for me to be somewhere, I left the house. I hadn’t gone far when I heard the familiar sound. Obviously, the phone was somewhere in the car and had not totally vanished from the planet. I felt such relief when I found the little contraption under the seat of the car.
Even so, it may be time to return to a home phone.