A couple of weeks ago, when I was fooling around trying to find a link to that Mannheim Steamroller song Chocolate Coffee, I ended up on lala.com, a site that allowed me to listen for free to all my favorite songs… once. Now, I don't like to sign up on this kind of website. They always ask for your email address, and shortly after signing up, all kinds of junk email shows up. But I did want to listen to that Mannheim Steamroller song, so I bit the bullet and signed up.
I couldn't fake an email address (or can I?), so I did the next best thing, I faked my name. Sometime later I got an email that said, "Welcome to Lala, Daffy D." That worked out just fine, they think I'm Daffy Duck, and I can easily trace any email that comes in addressed to Daffy as having originated with Lala.
Learning to live in an automated world started for me with voicemail menus. I hate 'em. I'm so used to them, I didn't even realize how much I hate them until right now. I'm sick of pressing one for English. I'm sick of accidentally going down the wrong, very long voicemail path and having to start all over again. I hate hearing "press nine to hear these options again."
Every once in a while, I get in a little snit about technology. It's pointless of course. I always come back around to not wanting to be left behind. If I'd dug in my heels refusing to move forward, I would be missing the entire five seasons, (twenty four, 45 minute, spell binding episodes per season) of Lost on Netflix instant play.
And when I'm not lost in Lost, I can listen to Pandora.com radio. All for very little or no money. Money being the operative word these days. You've read about my dad's fascination with technological gadgets. Who Broke My Google and What Happened to My Wingdings? Remembering my dad reminds me to have fun with technology.
Being willing to learn new technologies kept my father young, something I'm glad of, because it allowed me and my sisters to have more to relate to as he got older. And after an experience I had this week, I need all the feeling young I can get. What's more important, looking young or feeling young? Good question eh? While I'm out coloring my hair, you think about it.
Hey, I didn't say we can't have both. But of course feeling young makes much more sense. While I want to grow physically and mentally decrepit at the same rate as my friends and family members, that's the natural way of things, there's no reason we can't have a little fun along the way.
Money, however, is a consideration, especially now. My husband Jim used to always buy all his toys one generation older than newest. It saved lots of money and tended to put more reliable products into our hands. Once in a while he'd go for broke though.
I remember one Christmas when he bought me the latest version of Quicken. He was part geek, and I'm half nerd, so I jumped for joy when I opened it. While the turkey roasted in the oven, and our child rotted her brain in front of her X-box, another indulgence Jim allowed, we sat in my office loading software and entering numbers into categories. Ah, those were the days.
And these are these days. After Jim died, one of his brothers told me that when they lost their second oldest brother to cancer during their childhood, their parents told them, every fun thing they did from now on, they were to think of it as doing it for those who are no longer here to enjoy it, making feeling guilty into a disservice to the departed. No wonder Jim had such a lust for life. Very good parents, those.
Now that Jim and my dad are gone, I must remember how much fun they'd both be having with lala.com right now. My dad with his jazz, and Jim with his acid rock and roll. Sometimes I'm sure Jim and Dad are whispering in my ear. How else would I be able to come up with nicknames on lala like Daffy Duck? Living in an automated world can be maddening at times. But I have to admit, getting that first email, "Welcome to lala Daffy D." made me laugh out loud. And that was totally worth it.
© M.E. Rollins
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