Saturday, June 11, 2011

"...after the beep."

Remember voice mail jail? You know, you leave me a message, then I leave you a message, then you leave me a message and then if we're lucky some time in the future we connect in person. I suppose that's pretty much gone now with the advent of iPhones, Twitter, Facebook, etc.

The way people connect instantly today I suspect the answering machine may be the Dodo of today.

Well, not quite. I still get messages on my home phone and I still leave messages on other peoples' answering devices. Problem is I'm never sure they get my message, so I call again to speak to them in person to verify.

Today, the shoe (phone) was on the other foot (ear). I got a voice mail message from a golfing buddy inviting me to join him one day next week. I returned the call and naturally I got his voice mail. So I left my message confirming the date and time. He really didn't need to reply.

Nevertheless, some time later in the day, he called again and I was home to answer. He told me it was his practice to speak in person to anyone who left him a voice mail message. He said it was something he developed during his business career and it's stuck with him.

It may seem a quaint gesture by today's norms but I appreciated the call. I considered it a “get out of voice mail jail free” card.

You can play it any time.

Friday, June 10, 2011

The "Guy" Thing

They don't mean anything by it but for some reason it irks me when the cheery host or hostess at a casual restaurant welcomes my wife and me by calling us "guys." Such as "Hi, guys, welcome to (name of restaurant) how many today?"

This is then followed by the equally cheery waitperson (who could be my grandchild) introducing him or herself and asking "what can I get you guys today?"

Just when did we become "guys" to these people and why does it bother me to be so addressed? I don't know but it does.

I'd prefer the word "folks." It just sounds more appropriate to persons of a certain age. And, I think, it offers a hint of respect. That would be nice.

And while I'm on the subject of respect, I cringe when addressed by my first name by some young person with whom I have a business transaction, such as in a bank. I am not above asking them to call me Mr. Friedman. I am not their buddy, I am their customer and I'm entitled to some deference.

To borrow from a Mary Chapin Carpenter song, "it's too much to expect, but no too much to ask."

So I'm asking.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

The “Friending Frenzy”

It's too much for me, this impulse to “friend” someone so you can keep them up to date on your every movement, including bowel, I assume.

Now I read that even if you are e-reading you can tell your friends what you're reading and what page you're on and whether or not you like the story. But you can only read the books available from the company whose e-reader you bought. Bummer. So many books, so little time.

And just this afternoon we met someone whose daughter is now tattooing the faces of her Facebook friends on her arm. It's the latest rage, I hear. What happens when you are no longer friends? Are the tats removable or do you have to cut off your arm?

This “friending” and Twittering is epidemic and there is no cure in sight. A certain congressman from New York is its latest victim. Fatal to his career, no doubt.

A cautionary tale for anyone caught up in the wildness of the internet. What happens there doesn't stay there long. It's all over the world. For better or worse.

It boggles my muddled mind.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

“Gather Yourself”

I love golf. I love to play it more than watch it on TV although when Tiger Woods was playing well it was dramatic. But this is more about the golf broadcasters than the players.

Here's the deal: they sit in a booth nowhere near the action yet they whisper expectantly when a player is over a putt. And boy do they analyze that putt. Inside left, curving right, double breaker, he's putting for birdie. If he's on the green in regulation, of course he's putting for birdie no matter how far from the hole he is. But the whispering adds to the drama even if the poor pro is well out of the running.

Look, I get just as much of a thrill when I make an occasional par as the next guy. Unfortunately they don't come too often in my game. Birdies? Once or twice a year.

The key to playing, however, is self control. No matter how well or poorly you play it's all about you. It's not the clubs, the ball or the course. You are in charge of no one but yourself. Which is why I really get a kick out of the broadcaster's comment after a pro make a bad shot.

“He's got to gather himself,” he intones in a breathless British accent. I can visualize the golfer hugging himself inwardly, fortifying himself for the next shot, suppressing the urge to utter a totally natural “expletive deleted.” Tiger Woods is notoriously poor at suppressing these urges.

Full disclosure: Several times this afternoon my inner self heard the admonition to “gather myself” after an excruciatingly poor shot. But it usually came after my outer self uttered a string of expletives unfit to repeat here.

CBS Sports' house Brit would have been appalled. I felt justified.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Quiet, Please

There is a noise epidemic in this country. When you go to a sporting event, the only time the noise is related to the action is when the teams are actually playing. In the interim the decibel count is mountainous.

As the NYTimes pointed out today the NBA is a prime offender in this category. Personal example: my wife became physically sick from the excessive noise between plays at a New Jersey Nets basketball game some time ago. We haven’t been back since and won't go to any NBA game again.

Where does it say patrons have to be “entertained” by blasting sound between plays. Excessive noise is not confined to athletic events. How about the “music” at weddings, Bar Mitzvahs and the like. You can't hear yourself think. Adults have to leave the ballroom for a sanity break or to actually converse with someone.

What about the throbbing sound coming from the car in front, next to or behind you? Besides annoying us, what effect can that booming sound have on the driver? Can he or she actually pay attention to the traffic when entombed in sound?

We've all encountered (mostly young) people with ear buds leaking music at us in elevators or next to us on buses or planes. Can they not enjoy their music at a personal as opposed to stadium level?

I know I'm an old fogy but I can't be the only person around who would like the music/noise volume tuned down a little. Not necessarily off, just lower, please.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Waiting for Derek

Sooner or later Derek Jeter will get his 3,000th base hit. I'd love it if he got it on June 16 when my wife and I will be at Yankee Stadium watching the Yanks play the Texas Rangers.

It would be exciting but my world won't end if he does it before or after the 16th. I've been a Yankees fan since childhood. I was born and raised in The Bronx one subway stop away from the Stadium. My wife lived around the corner from the Stadium. It's hard not to root for the neighborhood team.

My sister and brother-in-law took me to my first baseball game there somewhere around 1940, I think. The pre-WWII and post-WWII Yanks were my favorites, particularly the '49-'53 crew under Casey Stengel.

The Steinbrenner years had their ups and downs and then came Derek, Jorge, Bernie and Mo and order was restored to The Bronx. But now, like so many of us, the guys are showing their age. The hits are not coming as often as they used to and the legs don't cover as much ground as before.

I see the diminution of my skills (if I ever had any) on the golf course. The ball doesn't travel as far, the putts don't reach the cup or skid several feet by.

But the sun still shines, the grass is still green (except on my lawn) and we'll hit the links another day.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Printing is Good

I just printed out last month's Blogs to go with all the others I've published since Jan. 1, with the idea that someday I might want to put them into a book. Presumptuous, maybe. But, hey, people with a lot less on their minds have published in one form or another.

I'm not reminiscing about my childhood or telling stirring stories of family adventures, trials or tragedies. I'm just trying to convey what it's like for an 80-year old man to deal with a world that is transforming before his eyes.

I think back to what my mother witnessed in her lifetime before she died in 1971 at 82 – from the Wright Brothers to a man on the moon and everything in between. I'm almost that age now and the touchstones of my lifeline seem to be wars large and small plus advances in technology that boggle my mind. Notice I take space travel almost for granted. Ditto Great Depressions and Great Recessions.

I don't relate to social networking because I don't feel like sharing my life with the world on line. Yet I see how it is being used to speed communications between peoples around the world. Some hail this as a good thing. I'm not sure.

I'm picking and choosing among the plethora of new devices only those I find useful to my lifestyle. The rest I leave to the young and hope for the best for their sakes.