Fishing

All posts tagged Fishing

FaceBook, Smart Phones, and Fishing

Published August 31, 2012 by Ms. Nine

I’m not an expert with social networking, but I have a Facebook account to connect with people I’m closest to, and I have a blog to connect with folks on the web.  To my husband, a social network means a company picnic and his face on a billboard… I never expected there’d come a day when he’d be schooled.

When he returned from fishing, horns tooting and “Whoopie!” shouting, Marie and my husband flaunted their prizes and took pictures with their phones.

“Baby Beth, hold this up so I can take your picture,” Marie told her daughter.

“I don’t wanna.  It’s icky,” Baby Beth said.

“Oh, common.  I’ll help you,” said my husband.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

After taking several “good ones” with their smart phones, my husband and daughter compared their catches.

“I’m posting my shots on Facebook,” Marie declared, deftly tapping her phone.  Within seconds, the picture of Baby Beth’s grimace holding an icky fish was shared with the world.

Marie hopped to the computer and logged in. “Mom, come look.”

“Oh, Lordy!” On the nineteen inch monitor flashed a picture of my granddaughter struggling with a  dead 4lb. bass.  At this very moment, our entire family could see them on Facebook.  Ah…the wonders of the modern world.

“These are great. How can I print these out?” my husband asked, looking over my shoulder.  My dear husband, bless his heart, does not know how to use the features on his smart phone.  Marie, bless her heart, did not want to teach him how people pass around pictures nowadays.

“You need a Facebook account, Dad.  I’ll set one up, if you want…”

He sighed, shook his head, and left.  It was not his thing.

Marie and I seized the moment to introduce him to social media and all its glorious splendor. While he was outside cleaning the fish, Marie and I zip-lined him to the twenty-first century.  We opened a Facebook account for him, uploaded his pictures (a profile, too!), and sent “friend” requests.

After dinner, Marie braved a Facebook demonstration on his smart phone.  She had synced his accounts and showed him how to upload pictures and access his email.

During her lesson, he held his breath and concentrated.  Yes! He’s taking it in, I thought. Within minutes, his eyes glazed.  He blinked repeatedly.  Oh, no.  Marie had overloaded his microchips. The program is not responding.  Do we wait or end program now?  We waited.

It worked!  We squealed as he accessed Facebook and patted him on the back as he opened his picture files.  I can’t say he was delighted, but he grinned at our enthusiasm.

The next day, he slammed his phone on the table. “I hate Facebook.”

“Why?”

“My phone’s been vibrating all day. People keep leaving messages wanting to be “friends” on Facebook.  I’m too busy for that crap.”

I took his phone and tapped off  the notifications. Poor guy.  He’ll still catch fish, but he won’t be using the networks of the twenty-first century.

 

Have a great weekend. And thanks for stopping by!

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Does it Matter?

Published August 10, 2012 by Ms. Nine

When I discovered blogging, I made a mistake and told my mother about it.  She didn’t get it at all.

“Why are you doing that?”

“It’s fun to write stories and read other people’s comments,” I said.

“How do you know they are who they say they are?  They might be scammers. You could get a virus, you know.”

Trying to tell my mother about secure servers, virus protection, and anonymity is like telling the Holy Father about birth control.  Why bother?

I simply said, “It’s safe, Mom.  I don’t even use real names.”

“So what.  Hackers could find out.”

“You know the story about the tree and the elephant cables?  Well, I write stories like that on my blog,” I said. “You’d get a kick out of them”

“I don’t go on the internet for stories.  My computer is too slow. No. No..No..I wouldn’t do that.  Can’t you just mail the stories? Just send them to me.”

We didn’t need to be skyping for me to see her shaking her head. I dropped the subject like a coconut from a skyscraper.  I told myself it didn’t matter if she reads my blog.  That was a fat lie.

Mom called today.

“I read your blogs, you know,” her sing-song tone sounded like a nananaboobee.

“Oh.” I said. I wanted to jump up and down, shout hallelujah, and do a cartwheel.  I was proud of her.

Silence.

“Well, what did you think, Mom?”

“There’re wonderful!….You should be writing your book.”  There it was – a “should be” – an admonishment dressed up and ready for church.

“I’m doing both at the same time,” I said.

“Okay, yeah, yeah,yeah… You remember Bob? Well, his father died and the funeral was yesterday…”

A funeral?  So she called to tell me about a funeral?

She told me she sang at the service, baked a cake, and brought over a casserole for the family.  When she received the thank-you note, she was baffled at how much her gifts had meant to them.  An implied  shucks it was nothing.  A lie.  Maybe she didn’t expect them to express their gratitude so deeply. I’m sure she appreciated knowing that what she did mattered.

“Mom, remember how grateful we were when Dad died and all those people brought food to the house? We sent thank-you notes, too.  Kindness matters.”

“Yeah, well…”

Not long after our conversation ended, it occurred to me that shucks, it was nothing was the same response I had made when she told me she reads my posts.  It matters.

Thank-you, Mom.

Happy writing and happy weekend!

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