This and That by Cathie Shaffer
Still astounded by ordinary stuff
Saturday, I sat securely in my nest – a well-used recliner – surrounded by the dog behind the chair, the laptop computer charging my feet, my electronic tablet in my hands and the cell phone within easy reach.
The smart watch I wear let me know it was automatically measuring my heart rate. I glanced down to see the time, then pushing the button to make sure I was indeed still ticking along.
My, I thought to myself, how life has changed. I was born in the 1900s, you know, and remember when our phones were tethered to the wall, one used a typewriter and only at the doctor’s office were vitals recorded.
I’m not complaining. I rather like knowing how many steps I took (or didn’t take) in a day and being able to check my blood pressure whenever I want. The convenience of getting a text or instant message is great. The ability not to respond in that moment is also nice. If the phone rang in the old days of my semi-misspent youth, I’d have to run from the kitchen with flour on my hands to grab the phone. Then I would have to explain that I was in the midst of getting chicken ready to fry and couldn’t talk, which might take longer than the actual conversation would.
While I love all these new things that fill my house, I am perfectly happy just knowing that the work. The minute someone in love with computers uses terms like “mother board,” I am lost. All I need to know is that it will work when I turn it on.
Over-the-air television still seems like magic to me. A little box in my stairway window provides me with endless shows and news, all for free. Seems like there’s a catch and sooner or later, I’ll get a bill for a quarter-billion dollars for all the TV I’ve watched.
I pay for streaming services too like Netflix and Discovery. This too perplexes me a little. I pay a company for a different box that then magically makes those shows appear on the same TV as the free ones. Amazing, right?
I’ve become accustomed to driving a bossy car, too. Back in the 1900s, when I first starting driving, a good radio was a top feature. Then it was a CD player, then being able to play music from your phone ... that was good enough for me.
But the car I drive today is so demanding. Every time I back out of the driveway, it shrieks to let me know I’m about to hit my garbage can.
I am not. That garbage can has been in the same place for a long time, and I haven’t hit it once. Neither have I backed into anyone driving past the house, although the car insists on warning me about them too.
It shows me a little green car on the instrument panel when I’m a safe distance from the car ahead of me. If I get too close, it lets out with a big beep and flashes a picture of a collision. The first time it did that, I almost did drive off the road and wreck it.
I get warned when I need gas, when the tires are low and when I need an oil change. It offers me hill assist and suggests when I need to make traction control is on.
All that is nice. But I would appreciate it on my long drives if it would simply commandeer the radio and explain how microwaves work and what a mother board is.
The smart watch I wear let me know it was automatically measuring my heart rate. I glanced down to see the time, then pushing the button to make sure I was indeed still ticking along.
My, I thought to myself, how life has changed. I was born in the 1900s, you know, and remember when our phones were tethered to the wall, one used a typewriter and only at the doctor’s office were vitals recorded.
I’m not complaining. I rather like knowing how many steps I took (or didn’t take) in a day and being able to check my blood pressure whenever I want. The convenience of getting a text or instant message is great. The ability not to respond in that moment is also nice. If the phone rang in the old days of my semi-misspent youth, I’d have to run from the kitchen with flour on my hands to grab the phone. Then I would have to explain that I was in the midst of getting chicken ready to fry and couldn’t talk, which might take longer than the actual conversation would.
While I love all these new things that fill my house, I am perfectly happy just knowing that the work. The minute someone in love with computers uses terms like “mother board,” I am lost. All I need to know is that it will work when I turn it on.
Over-the-air television still seems like magic to me. A little box in my stairway window provides me with endless shows and news, all for free. Seems like there’s a catch and sooner or later, I’ll get a bill for a quarter-billion dollars for all the TV I’ve watched.
I pay for streaming services too like Netflix and Discovery. This too perplexes me a little. I pay a company for a different box that then magically makes those shows appear on the same TV as the free ones. Amazing, right?
I’ve become accustomed to driving a bossy car, too. Back in the 1900s, when I first starting driving, a good radio was a top feature. Then it was a CD player, then being able to play music from your phone ... that was good enough for me.
But the car I drive today is so demanding. Every time I back out of the driveway, it shrieks to let me know I’m about to hit my garbage can.
I am not. That garbage can has been in the same place for a long time, and I haven’t hit it once. Neither have I backed into anyone driving past the house, although the car insists on warning me about them too.
It shows me a little green car on the instrument panel when I’m a safe distance from the car ahead of me. If I get too close, it lets out with a big beep and flashes a picture of a collision. The first time it did that, I almost did drive off the road and wreck it.
I get warned when I need gas, when the tires are low and when I need an oil change. It offers me hill assist and suggests when I need to make traction control is on.
All that is nice. But I would appreciate it on my long drives if it would simply commandeer the radio and explain how microwaves work and what a mother board is.
Braxton Maye, center, a 2026 Russell High School graduate, received a $500 scholarship from the Masonic Lodge in Flatwoods to help him attend UK this fall. With Maye are Carlos Holbrook, left, master and Doug Spillman, chaplain. Joe Gray is the scholarship committee chair.