I am reminded every time I turn on my computer, that the telephone is fast becoming the least favored form of personal communication in today's fast-moving, slow-motion world. Notice, I said 'telephone', not smart phone. Today's hand-held personal electronic devices are utilized for almost everything but personal verbal communication. We use them to surf, to text, to tweet, to facebook (when did that officially become a verb?) and to play games. I spend more time talking to SIRI than I do to actual people. More than half the calls I make to other phone numbers seem to reach a voice message informing me that there is nobody willing to actually answer to the ringtone or vibration and please leave a message.
Somebody fed my contact information and profile to a third party online dating service, and now I get at least 15 notices every day from Zoosk telling me that I have messages from willing (seemingly), almost desperate, females in the area. I'd spam-block the site, but I find the entries, some of them, very funny, entertaining. I see ads on TV all the time promoting this pairing service, and that dating and connection site. ChristianMingle, Match.com, eHarmony, BlackPeopleMeet, AsianDating, Just-for-lunch, DisabledPassions, Qiran.com...... it's mind-boggling. I even googled (declared an official verb in 2006) midget dating, and yes, there are at least a dozen sites including LittlePeopleMeet or DateADwarf. Are you lonely? Do you suffer from schizophrenia, paranoia or manic depression? Well there are numerous sites catering to the mentally challenged, lonely folks out there with an internet connection and a desire to meet someone who will totally understand where you are coming from. What could possibly go wrong with that?
My emailbox is populated every day with funny forwards from friends (FFFF), enjoinders to watch this movie or that TV show, pleas from various charities to donate money, earnest requests from political groups to join in the fight to eliminate whatever or whomever, the latest golf instruction or innovation, notification that I am approved for a loan that I did not apply for and any number of free insurance quotes for which I am automatically qualified regardless of age or infirmity. I guess that means that I am drawing breath and able to read. I don't watch the evening news any more. I just open up Facebook a half-dozen times a day, and I find out what's going on in the real world. I stopped almost all of the push notifications to my iPhone, because it became difficult to concentrate on any task at hand. Nothing more bothersome whilst checking my Facebook page and having Tweets and Twitter and YahooMail and GMail and CBSSports and ESPN all vying for my attention. The only alerts I have now are ding-ding when I get a text and chirp-chirp when the ESPN Streak For The Cash is telling me whether my latest pick won or lost.
I still haven't totally mastered the iPhone 5s. My old iPhone, I think it's a 3, froze up and I had to get a new one. I tried to transfer all my previous data onto the new phone, but my interaction with iTunes, the Cloud and iOs resulted in chaos. I manually entered all 937 contacts, character by character, onto my i5s over the course of three nights. I had an appointment with the Apple Genius Bar to get a tutorial on pairing my laptop and new phone, but it snowed, and I don't like to drive to Boulder even in perfect weather. I am going to keep my old iPhone as an iPod with all my music, because I don't need to use all the storage on my new smart device for music, I don't listen to much music anymore, anyway.
And finally, today, my first-born child, Sara, turns 36. I remember back, after a scheduled morning visit to Dr. Macsulka's office on west Arapahoe to check on Joanne's progress, the good doctor advised us that it was time to check into Boulder Community Hospital, that it was near time to welcome baby Sara in the world (well, Boulder). There was snow on the ground, it was cold, and the Broncos had just lost the Super Bowl, to Dallas. Manuel and Lynn Gonzales came down from Longmont to be with us as we waited. Finally, at around 6:00 in the evening, Sara Rene arrived. Dark eyes looked around, surveyed the bright delivery room, and refused to cry, making mama Joanne a little nervous. "Why isn't she crying?" The nurse wiped the vernix off of Sara's tiny body and swaddled her in a blanket and handed her right to me. I was swaddled myself; paper booties, surgical mask, paper elastic-banded haircover and hospital scrub gown. Over to the inspection station, measurements and data recorded, APGAR score of 8.0 (probably would have been higher, but Sara just wouldn't cry). She finally did cry when the nurse poked her heel for a blood sample. They took her almost immediately to a heat-lamped enclosure to deal with her supposed jaundice, until they realized that she was half Asian. The doc took a few minutes to stitch up Joanne after the episiotomy, so Lynn, Manual and I went to the waiting area and cracked open a couple of cold Coors Banquets to toast a successful transition. So, so happy, so relieved. As I am today. So happy and proud that our Sara has grown into such a kind and spirited loving wife and mother. She makes life something to marvel at.
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