Fool me once…

Last week I had the (mis)fortune of visiting another medical professional in my never-ending quest to find some relief from my tinnitus.  You may recall that early this year I visited an internal medicine physician, and then an ENT physician specializing in ear, nose and throat problems.  Absolutely nothing came from those visits.

Until the problem goes away or I die first, I am always on the hunt for some kind of solution.  Someone told me a few months ago about an “alternative” medicine person who can fix all kinds of problems using natural methods, whatever that means.  I was game to try it out.

First thing I noticed when I walked in the waiting room was a large platform machine with handrails that a person stands on, and a large person standing on it.  This middle-aged woman was standing there barefoot reading a magazine while the base of the machine was shaking her with the rhythm of a giant vibrator under her feet.  I quietly asked at the desk what the machine was for and was told it improves circulation by shaking the crapola out of you, or something like that.

I guess those construction worker guys who use jackhammers in the street have really good circulation.

I waited patiently to be summoned to the exam room.  After a few minutes, I was called back by a nutritionist into a room that resembled a food pantry in someone’s home.  There were shelves all around the small room, loaded with bottles and containers.  This nutritionist lady studied nutrition in college, go figure, and was there to analyze the composition of my body.  I thought I was there to have my tinnitus diagnosed and some new treatment prescribed, but that’s not how the appointment went.

So this nutritionist seats me near her by a small desk attached to the front of the shelves on one side of the room, and tells me to take off the shoe and sock of my right foot.  Now, I’ve been asked by medical people to take off a lot of clothing over the years, but never half my footwear.

She then hands me this copper rod thing that I’m supposed to hold in my left hand for the duration of the visit, which has a wire running from it to a computer machine thing.  She then takes another item attached by a wire to this computer machine thing, with a PROBE on the end of it.  Okay, I’ve had medical people do terrible things to me with probes, too, but this was different.

She poked the probe in various places along the fingers of my right hand.  And then she probed in like fashion along the TOES OF MY RIGHT FOOT!  That’s right, she put my bare foot on her thigh and poked and probed the toes repeatedly.

Had I not been incapacitated with my foot held captive and half of my footwear under the desk, I think I would have left at this point.

All the while she is probing my digits, this computer machine thing is displaying graph after graph.  Then, she takes bottle after plastic bottle off the shelves, puts them one by one on a little metal thing on the computer machine thing, and repeats the whole probing process again while looking at the graphs flashing up on the screen.  And she continued to hold my bare foot on her thigh.

The remarkable thing was she said she could “test” the pills in the containers against my body chemistry to see if they balanced me in various areas, and she did this without opening the bottles or removing the product.  Tested right through the plastic bottles!

Now, I realize that my body is just a bag of chemicals, mixed with water, and stuff can go wrong in that mix.  But this hour and a half probing process resulted in a whole host of things wrong with me, like being dehydrated and discovering a caffeine allergy.  Along with the list of stuff wrong with my body, I got an even longer list of all the products I needed to buy to cure me of my newly-identified ills.

By the end of this process my focus was anywhere but there and I completely forgot to ask about my tinnitus.  (Maybe my memory was suffering from dehydration.)  I was given my shoe and sock back and ushered to a desk near the front of the office, where all the products that were recommended to cure me were waiting for my purchase.

The appointment itself was about $250 with no hope, of course, of any insurance company reimbursing alternative medicine, and the products all lined up for me would have cost another $75.  I opted to buy just the “oxygenated water” bottle for $19 because it was the first and therefore the most important product on the list.

Later, when I got home and regained my senses after having a tall glass of tap water, I read the label on this special “oxygenated water” bottle.  It said “purified water” and nothing more in the ingredients.  I was tempted to call the thieves, er, — I mean the medical people at the office, to ask where the oxygen was in my bottle, but decided I’d had enough of their schtick for one day.

So that $19 bottle of magic water is still sitting in my home office waiting for me to crack it open, like a bottle of rare, expensive wine that you hold on to for a special occasion.  I’m not sure what my special occasion will be to open that bottle, but I’m looking forward to it.

Meanwhile, my tinnitus is still the same, my opinion of medical “professionals” is still the same, and I’m still searching for something new that can help.

I just now realized that the machine shaking the woman in the office probably had nothing to do with circulation.  It was a shakedown machine — shaking the money out of her pockets.

I will not be going back for a follow-up appointment.

Are you a social boomer?

As further proof that I am a real boomer, I admit that I don’t have much use for most social media.  Not that all boomers are like that, because I know a good number of my fellow boomers who seem to use and love all kinds of social media on a regular basis.  But I’d guess that I am in good company with those who don’t value social media as much as those much younger than us.

First of all, let me say that I actually know a few things about social media, so I’m not just some old guy who is completely ignorant of technology.

I remember a good number of years ago when I worked for a large manufacturing company in an administrative position — I would be sitting there in my fine cubicle minding the business of my job and the founder of the company would come wandering by, which he did from time to time.  He was in his 80s then, and you recall that years ago personal computers, e-mail and social media were nothing like they are today.  I had a PC at home at the time, but at work I used a mainframe workstation, and e-mail was nothing more than a cumbersome programming tool that only a few used.  Social media was still in the womb.

This 80-something founder would stop at various peoples’ desks to chat and see what was going on, and since I was always staring at my computer monitor, he’d usually make a comment to me that he had never used a computer and never would.  For him, it was a badge of honor to not get caught up in all that useless computer stuff.  Likewise other management people that I knew then – most never used a computer themselves.  They let the tech nerds or their assistants do all that.

So just because I don’t value social media all that much, it doesn’t mean that I am clueless about it like that 80-something guy was about computers.  I know very well that there are good uses for social media.  The big difference for me is that I use social media where there is a practical need or application; I don’t use it for entertainment.

This is the big departure for me, and perhaps for many boomers.  Younger folks, like Millennials, can’t live without social media.  They go out to lunch or dinner and take pictures of their food when it is placed in front of them and immediately post the pictures online, and within minutes they have comments on the post from their friends.  They learn about each other and tell and show everything about themselves via social media.  They find the essence of life in social media.

A month or so ago, my youngest daughter was sitting with us in our family room one Sunday afternoon doing homework on her laptop.  Apparently my wife and I fell asleep in our chairs for a while (never happened before).  The following week, I was in church and talking with a younger friend of mine, and he joked how funny the video was of us sleeping.  Yes, my dear daughter took a video of us and posted it for her hundreds (thousands?) of friends to view.  My wife and I became temporarily famous, thanks to social media.  I would never think to post a video like that.  (We’re still friends with this child, by the way.)

I work with a younger guy in his early 30s who posts a tweet on Twitter every single day.  He does not need to do that for his work, but he does it faithfully, I guess for fun.  He says he has some 600 followers who receive his missives.  What the heck does he tell these hundreds of people?  And why on earth do these hundreds of people want to read about him every single day?  And most of these adoring fans probably read about a bunch of other people who are tweeting their life out to the world.  Do younger people spend all day just reading all the hundreds of tweets coming at them?

I don’t even want to know what my own kids are doing or thinking every day.  So why would I want to know what my work colleagues are doing all the time?  And I sure don’t want to tell hundreds of strangers what I’m doing on a daily basis.

And then there’s Facebook.  It fills a need and it can be very entertaining to keep up with friends and family.  I don’t discount its personal and business uses.  But daily?  Really?  I haven’t touched my own personal Facebook page in well over a year.  And despite that, my life is fulfilling and meaningful.

Now, the one social media platform that I do like is Linkedin.  I use it for business to identify contacts, make contact and see what people do and how they fit in to their companies.  It’s actually useful so I look at it pretty much every day.  So far it has remained mostly “pure” as a business tool without a lot of personal fluff.  Still, there are people who get mixed up and seem to think Linkedin is Facebook — they post family pictures or they overdo it on the personal stuff.

One guy I’m connected to likes to change his Linkedin profile picture every other week or so, as if we all want to see what he does in his free time.  He has posted profile pictures of his family on a beach, him standing next to his car, him running over the finish line of a marathon, and he even posted a picture of himself in hunting clothes holding a rifle, next to a dead animal.  Apparently he thought the Linkedin community would want to see him as some great hunter.  Please, save that for an audience that actually cares about your personal life.

Another annoying trend on Linkedin is people who post puzzles, slogans, inspiring pictures, or cutesy things that are great for Facebook, not so great for a business audience.  Again, save that for some other social media platform and don’t clutter up my information feed with your hobbies and personal stuff.

Finally, there are those folks on Linkedin who post articles and their personal likes not once a day, not twice a day, but multiple times a day.  They must spend the whole day finding and sharing stuff they think is interesting.  Where do they have time for that?  I don’t want to see your likes and interests every time I look at Linkedin!

Am I being cranky here?  I guess I just want to make my limited use of social media as efficient as possible.  If I wanted to kill time looking at the family life or personal interests of others, I’d use Facebook or Instagram or a dozen other platforms that cater to the social needs of strangers.

I say:  Keep it where it needs to be.

Maybe I am a little bit like that company founder who liked to say that he had no use for computers.  He didn’t see the need. That’s the thing — I love technology and new stuff, but only if I need it.

Do I need a physician or an inventor?

It’s time for my monthly post to this fine blog called Boomercrush.  I never intended to publish just once a month, but that’s how it has turned out so far this year.  Goes to show you that I should have set a goal to post multiple times a week, and then I surely would have done so.  Because, I meet all my goals, of course.  And I exercise regularly, eat sensibly, always floss after meals, and never tell a fib.  Whatever.  Maybe I’m subconsciously grooming myself to run for president.  (Lying:  get it?)

So I will from this day forward try to write and publish my blog posts more frequently.  I won’t say yet how frequently because I need to figure that out.  But I can’t and shouldn’t keep my adoring public waiting so long between my inspiring thoughts.  Check back again soon, dear reader.

My post today is an easy one because I went to the doctor yesterday for an annual physical, and interacting with doctors always gives me material to write about.  Now, I like doctors and know a few personally, and they are fine people doing fine work.  But for some reason I haven’t had very meaningful experiences visiting doctors as of late.

I need to mention one exception:  My gastroenterologist saves my life regularly by finding and removing polyps from within my colon.  I have a tendency to manufacture those little fellers on a consistent basis, so I literally owe my life to my gastroenterologist.  I like that doctor a lot.  Get a colonoscopy when you should, folks, and stay alive.

I posted earlier this year that I had gone to a couple of doctors to ask about my tinnitus.  I spent a bunch of money and time going through tests and having conversations with the white-coat clan, all for no answers, no suggestions and no relief.  My tinnitus has not gone away or changed — rather, I’m learning to live with it a little better and with less desperation.

But I try to keep myself generally healthy in my boomer years by seeing the doctor regularly.  So far, other than the tinnitus and random polyps, I’ve been pretty healthy.

This year I tried out a new internal medicine doctor for my physical, since my last primary-care physician retired a couple of years ago.  I heard about a female internal medicine physician who gets rave reviews for caring and all that, so I thought I’d give that a try.  And why not — women go to men doctors, so why not men to women doctors?  Maybe the extra sensitivity of a female doctor will win me over again to the medical profession.

Well, the first red flag was when the receptionist at the front desk asked me if it was a full physical, which it was, and then asked me if I wanted a prostate exam.  Do I want a prostate exam?  “Want?”  In my mind I’m thinking that, no, I do not want a prostate exam even if it’s my wife doing it.  But if I’m here for a “full” physical and a middle-aged guy in his fifties often has prostate issues, then I guess I “should” have a prostate exam.  Maybe the female internal medicine doctor doesn’t like dealing with those pesky internal things on men, so she has them ask that at the desk.

I will now tell you that the prostate exam went just fine.  Felt like it should from my perspective and apparently mine is A-okay.  But during the course of this full physical, this nice doctor basically did only four things:  Looked in my ears, felt around my neck, took my blood pressure, and finally checked my prostate (because I wanted her to).  I was tempted to tell her that my prostate wasn’t in my neck, ha ha, but she probably wouldn’t have found that to be funny…  There was nothing else to my exam.  Not that I wanted a whole bunch of invasive things to be done to me, but whatever happened to the days when a doctor would palpate your stomach (if I’m using that word correctly), or check for hernias with the little finger (“turn your head and cough”), or look in your eyes and into your throat, or check your knee and foot reflexes?

Has the medical profession evolved so that they don’t check anything any more, even during a so-called full physical?  Or was my doctor just a little shy?  If so, why was she shy — she’s a doctor for crying out loud.  Back in the good old days when I was younger, my doctor used to ask me all kinds of stuff.  Not this time — this internal medicine doctor didn’t ask me anything at all.  Maybe she was so smart she could just look at me and know how healthy I was.

So I’m starting to wonder if I really need to see a doctor anymore if I’m feeling okay, other than my colon doctor of course.  Or maybe an annual physical should just be a questionnaire that you fill out and unless you check off some problem, you don’t need to be seen.  As for the prostate exam, well, someone should invent some kind of chair device that you just sit on and the results are tabulated and added to your record.  If there’s a problem, step over here, otherwise goodbye and have a nice day.

Maybe I’m just expecting too much.  I pay so dang much for my lousy health insurance and get nothing from it, so I want those health care folks to really work me over so I get my money’s worth.  That’s the cheap boomer in me, always wanting to justify every expense.  I’ve spent a lifetime looking for deals and results from people who charge me for service, so why should a doctor visit be any different?

Anyway, I sure hope some smart person will read this post and be inspired to do some inventing — I’m talking about the prostate chair device.  It’s a good idea, isn’t it?  Something all us boomer men could use for sure.


Desire, not ability, is what limits us

A couple of weeks ago a father-son team won the grand prize of a million bucks on the television show “Amazing Race.”  Or I should say they won six months ago when the event actually took place, but the final program aired just a couple of weeks ago when the results and winners were revealed.  The winners were Dave and Connor O’Leary of Salt Lake City, and congratulations to them.

I must admit that I haven’t seen more than 10 minutes of that show in all the years it’s been on TV.  I think I tuned in sometime in the first or second season and haven’t watched since.  Not that it isn’t a good program, just that I don’t watch a lot of TV.  I know lots of people watch and enjoy it, which of course is why the program is still on the air.  I probably should watch it too because the one thing I enjoy most in life is travel, especially to foreign places, and this show has plenty of that.

But I’m not writing this post to comment on the show.  In fact I wouldn’t even know about the winners on this season’s show if it weren’t for a news report a couple of days ago that highlighted the fact that the father, Dave, is 59 years old.  And from the news blurb about the win, this 59-year old guy Dave is the oldest contestant to ever win, or maybe even to compete and complete the race, if I heard correctly.  The news report went on to emphasize how AMAZING it was that this super-old 59-year old guy Dave could actually compete and actually win!!!  That’s three exclamation points, folks.

So what’s my angle here?  It’s that the news report made such a big deal about a 59-year old being capable of more than sitting in a rocking chair or shuffling across the kitchen floor.  This ticks me off.  As if a 50-something person, or a 60-something person, is ready for the scrap heap just because of his or her age.

Either the news folks are all 20-somethings and are completely clueless about the mobility and health of most late 50-somethings, or the news folks have broken and feeble parents in their late 50s and therefore they think all 50-somethings are broken and feeble, or there’s some stinky age bias going around that news room.

So what’s the deal — you get to middle age and you can’t run any more?  Is that what people think?  Sure, there are those who haven’t aged very well through hard living, illness, lack of fitness, or a variety of maladies that can catch up to you.  But I think most guys my age and into their 60s are pretty robust and able to do just about anything they want.

And I think that is the key:  what they “want” to do.  I think a lot of younger people confuse “ability” with “desire” and come to the wrong conclusion about my generation of boomers.

Let me explain.  When I was younger, I wanted to do a lot of stupid things, like drive excessively fast, climb steep and dangerous trails, eat myself sick, stay up all night, play sports all the time, wear only shorts and a t-shirt outside in the winter when it’s below freezing, ski down super-steep slopes, sleep in the car to save money on a trip instead of checking into a hotel, work too many hours, go jogging, and stuff like that.  Now?  I don’t want to do many of those things because my experience has taught me that they aren’t that fun after all and sometimes are just not worth it.

So because we older folks are more selective in the activities we choose to participate in, we’re categorized as incapable in comparison to people a generation or two younger than us.  But I’m here to tell you it’s not because we can’t do things, it’s because we DON’T WANT TO.  We’ve been around a while and we’ve done all the stupid things already, and now we have moved on.

So for this 59-year old fellow who competed and won the race, good for him.  It’s no surprise to me.  Of course he was able to do it because he wanted to, and he’s not dead yet.  Do you get that, dear readers?  It’s only over when you die.

I hope someday society will figure out that middle-aged and older people aren’t all done with living just yet.  We may have a few more health issues, but they do not limit us.  It’s all a matter of what we want to do and where we want to put out the effort.  Lack of desire is not the same thing as lack of ability.  We can compete with anyone — if we want to.

Glamping anyone?

I read a news article just this week on a new trend in America and elsewhere called “glamping.”  Simply put, glamping is glamour camping, or luxury camping.  This news raises some issues in my mind.  First, because this is “news” at all.  Second, because camping and glamour are in the same sentence.  And third, who makes up this stuff, anyway?

Okay, so let’s deal with the first issue.  How does this story rate?  With all the crapola going on in the world — corruption left and right, wars and rumors of war, and boomers out of work — this is news?  This belongs in a camping or recreation magazine, not on the national news wire.

Now for the second issue: “luxury camping.”  Seems like two concepts that just don’t go together.  I mean, if you’re camping in the wilderness, it doesn’t matter if your tent is made of designer canvas or just plain old canvas – it’s a tent.  And that luxury price tag isn’t going to keep the bugs out or make the dirt less dirty.  A spider is a spider and dirt is dirt.

If you want to go out into the wilderness and enjoy luxury while you camp, I suggest you find a cabin.  Or, drive your motor home into the parking lot of a national park.  A tent, no matter how well equipped, is never luxurious, in my humble opinion.

I have many fond memories of old fashioned camping in my early married years right on up to now.  It has always been a fun time, especially with my kids.  It’s a back-to-nature experience that everyone needs to experience.  And camping really isn’t camping unless you sleep in a tent.  Sleeping in a motor home or a trailer or a cabin is not camping.

I remember one occasion when camping wasn’t so fun.  Years ago, I used to strain my back on a regular basis.  I was in my early forties and I thought I could work like I used to as a young man, hauling heavy loads, digging holes, climbing on the roof of my house to do shingle things, and all kinds of other manly and strenuous things that twenty-somethings can do any day and any time.  And if a neighbor needed help moving, I was there to help carry fridges and pool tables up and down stairs.

Even though I was in my forties, I would regularly do too much and regularly ended up paying the price by pulling the same muscles in my lower back.  I would end up with spasms that bent me over for days and then eventually, my muscles would loosen up and I’d return to normal.

So on this one occasion, our church group was having a campout in the mountains with all our families invited.  It was a great event with lots of kids and adults having a good time in the wilderness.  We ate, played games, built a big fire, and slept in tents.  Only, I had strained my back again just prior to heading into the hills and I could barely move throughout the entire campout.  You know how uncomfortable it is to sleep on the hard ground in your sleeping bag even with a pad, so just imagine how tough it was trying to sleep when every movement hurt.  Truly, one of the longest nights of my life.  You hear every sound, see every shadow and feel every pebble while you lie in that tent and count the minutes until the dawn arrives.  The worst camping experience I’ve had.

But even when you’re healthy and strong, camping is not what you’d call easy.  You have a lot of work to do to set everything up, keep warm, eat, rest, and break it all down.  Camping is fun, but it is hardly a luxurious experience.

I guess someone has figured out a way to glamorize camping, either with unique tent configurations (which I’d like to see) or so much fabulous food that you don’t care that you’re also sleeping in a tent.  Or maybe it’s all about the designer clothes you wear into the hills or the expensive SUV that you drive.

My guess is that glamping was probably invented in California.  That’s where all trends start.

So go ahead and put your designer jeans on and do some glamping.  Life is short — get out and enjoy it.

Respect defrocked

My wife and I went to a wedding reception this week for good friend’s son.  It was a nice affair with all the expected features – food, decorations, music, tables, and people dressed up.  Except pretty much the only people dressed up were those in the wedding party and a few random old guys, and my wife and me.  Most of the invited guests looked mighty casual for a formal wedding reception (the marriage was earlier in the day).

I always thought a wedding reception was a “nice” event that you get dressed up for, kind of like you get dressed up for church or that kind of thing.  You know, you wear your best clothes out of respect for the event (or meeting) you’re attending.  Seems like a well-established custom that has been around for generations.  And I’m not talking about a full suit, but how about some decent long pants and a good shirt and maybe a tie for the men, and a dress or skirt for the women?

Granted, if you get married high in the mountains or jumping out of an airplane, you can expect a different dress code for the event.  But most “regular” wedding receptions in a rented reception hall are dress-up deals, right?

I am continually surprised by what people wear to a reception.  It’s not that I am some kind of authority on receptions and society trends.  But my wife and I get invited to a good number of receptions every year, and it seems more and more common for younger-type people to show up looking like slobs.  You see it all the time:  There’s the groom in a tux and the family dressed up in matching outfits, and there’s the slob guest shaking hands to say hello.  Couldn’t take a few minutes to change before showing up.  At the reception we attended this week, one of the guys in front of us was sporting a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt, as if he just barely let go of the lawn mower handles before heading into the reception hall.

It’s not like these people just happened to be driving by and popped in to the reception on a whim to see what’s going on.  They were invited and made plans in advance to attend.

I need to say that it’s not just young people who are dressing inappropriately for nice events.  There are enough boomer types too who show up in jeans and any variety of casual clothes.  I guess these casual folks apparently are so busy they can’t take a few minutes to change into better clothes.  Or, they don’t have a clue how to dress respectfully.  Or more likely, they don’t care.

I think it’s a matter of respect.  Respect for the married couple and the family who put on the event.  Respect for tradition.  Respect for the institution of marriage that for many people is still a big deal.

Don’t get me wrong — I much prefer to be casual.  I can (and mostly do) live in jeans every single day.  I do not really care to wear a suit or tie, they are hot and uncomfortable.  But I think there are still places and events where there should be respect, both in our demeanor and our appearance.

Unless, that is, respect is nothing more than just a quaint notion of the past.

Phone relics

I’m a boomer and proud of it, which means I view the world a little differently than people a couple of decades younger than me.

Take my house phone, for instance.  That is to say, I have a house phone.  Yes, I actually still have a hard-wired phone in my house, with service delivered and billed by the phone company.  That alone makes me very different from younger people.  Younger people have cell phones and that’s it.  My daughter just got through building a nice new house with her husband and they didn’t even wire the house for a phone.  That house will never have a desk or wall phone, unless of course a boomer moves in some day and has the place wired and jacks installed.

In my house, which I had built about a dozen years ago, every single room has a phone jack in the wall, and there’s even a jack in the garage.  In fact, I specified that each jack would be wired to accommodate two phone lines so my family members could have “plenty” of phone access.

For the first couple of years here, we had two-line phones in all the bedrooms, in the office, and of course in the kitchen.  It was like a business — if someone was on line 1, well then, you just pushed line 2 and had yourself a conversation.  Worked great until my kids started getting older, and by the time they were teenagers they stopped using the home phone forever.  Their friends called them directly on their cell phones, completely bypassing my fatherly authority to screen calls and know everything going on under my roof.

Now, it’s positively unthinkable for someone under 30 to even consider using a “home phone.”  Ha! they say, who needs it?  Actually, as I look at the $45 bill for maybe 10 calls on the house phone all month, I’m beginning to wonder if I need it.  Why am I paying something like $500 a year for this antique on my desk, anyway?  I use my cell phone all the time, despite my advancing age.

Remember the phones we had when we were growing up?  In my early childhood, we actually rented the phone equipment to use in our house, along with the dial tone.  A nice dial wall phone in the kitchen served the whole family.  I remember my father sometimes conducting business on the kitchen wall phone, standing there talking away with the family all around.  If you were really prosperous, you also had a dial desk phone or Princess phone elsewhere in the house.  Now that was snobbish high living.

Then enlightenment dawned and we could buy our own phone and just pay for the dial tone, and the phones had buttons!  All kinds of great styles of phones came out, from cartoon characters to old-fashioned phones to sleek flip phones, and of course cordless phones, but all with the requisite cord to plug into the wall jack to get dial tone service.

Someday, the mighty phone company won’t be so mighty any more when they don’t have any residential customers.  Only businesses will use corded dial tone service.  And that is changing fast, too, with VoIP phones becoming much more common – phones that use the Internet to carry the signal rather than traditional phone switching.

The same kind of revolution is happening with cell phones, starting with the famous Motorola brick.  I never had one because it cost about $2,000 or so.  Only real estate agents — successful real estate agents — had one.  Big time snob fodder.

Remember the first analog cell phone you actually owned?  It would fade in and out depending on how close you were to the edge of your home calling range.  Battery life of about five minutes and no caller ID.  I also remember rich folks with a cell phone installed in their car, built right in, with a neat little curly antenna on the back window.  It was a status symbol to have a phone antenna on your car, and if you were really lame you could even buy a fake antenna to stick on your back window.  Instant snobbery, although it always looked dumb when I saw an old rusty Datsun sedan go by with a cell phone antenna on the back window.  Didn’t fool me.

So then digital phones swept in, and they got smaller and smaller and smaller.  You could carry them in a tiny little pouch on your belt!  Then, smartphones.  Now smartphones are getting bigger and bigger, as if to reverse all that miniaturization from the past.

Speaking of snobbery… Have you ever noticed when an Apple phone owner refers to his phone, he always calls it by the brand?  You never hear an Android phone user do that.  Like, the Apple snob always says he can’t find his “iPhone” or he’ll look it up on his “iPhone” or here, use my “iPhone…”    Why not just call it a phone?  Do you ever hear someone say they can’t find their Galaxy?  No??  Funny how snobbishness and phones have been going so well together for so long.

So that’s the end of my phone rant for today.  I can only guess that a younger person would have written all this on a smartphone (yeah, or an iPhone), not using an old-fashioned PC like I do.  Younger people do everything on their phone, which is why they are constantly looking at them.

Can you imagine how our kids would suffer now if they only had a dial wall phone to communicate with the world?