The Television Set

Who uses the phrase “television set” anymore?
“Do you know what a television set is,” I asked my twenty-something daughter as I paused my typing in midsentence.
If you know what a television set is, you are probably an old person like me.
I am picturing a set of televisions, like a set of flatware.
Oh yeah, young people may not know what flatware is either.
So why did my family always say television set?
Was it because in the old days the television came with a set of speakers?
Nah. I remember our first television set. It was not that fancy.
A small 12-inch screen, encased in a sturdy cream-colored plastic box with rounded corners, it was the height of space-aged technology to us.
We were amazed it had pictures, albeit black and white ones.
“How did they get into the box all the way from Hollywood?” we asked my dad.
Dad proceeded to explain something I still to this day don’t get: air waves.
In the 60s, the first TVs all came with their own little spindly-legged stand made of chromed metal and some antennae-like things that were attached with wires. And covered with aluminum foil. The stand was necessary because the television set needed to be high enough to be seen.
Maybe having a stand and bunny ears made it a set.
Maybe it was a set because it just “set thar.”
Okay, it didn’t just sit there; the screen was so small we had to wheel it in close enough to actually see it. That was in the days before remote controls were invented, so close was convenient for kids squatting on the floor in front of the television set.
Finally, mom and dad purchased the ultimate luxury item, a television set big enough to be seen across the room and ensconced in a luxurious maple-like piece of furniture.
In living color, no less.
My grandparents got a color television set before we did and so we were already aware that Lawrence Welk was just as boring in color as in black and white.
Naturally, at our house we immediately switched the channel, without the help of a remote control, to The Rifleman and Bonanza for action-packed western adventure.
Ahh, the 60s, the age of fabulous television, free of the self-consciousness of any reality programming at all.
By the way for any youngsters out there, flatware is the same thing as “silverware,” which is probably not sterling, but merely looks silvery.
You know, your knife, fork and spoon. I am not sure if plasticware qualifies. In fact, I’m not sure it was invented when I was a kid.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Hi-Tech Redneck

There was a shiny new piece of hi-tech equipment with a big red velveteen bow parked in my driveway Christmas morning.

It seems my husband believes I should have a new vehicle every 200,000 miles or every 10 years, whether I am ready or not.

My problem is I am just not that good of a driver. How am I supposed to drive and find all the new buttons?

Did you know they don’t even put tape players in cars anymore?

Now if you haven’t shopped for cars in ten years, you’re in for some astonishing space-agey, new fangled gadgets. For instance, I don’t have to touch my hatchback any more to get it to close. There’s a button for that.

Oh and they don’t call ‘em hatchbacks anymore either.

Jeremy Lade looked at me with understanding patience in his eyes and explained that I would probably love sync technology once I got used to it. Bless his heart.

So just what is sync technology?

Well, as best as I can figure so far, I talk to my steering wheel and it dials my iphone for me somehow. Okay, so maybe I’ll admit that the road has been a more dangerous place since I got my iphone. And maybe I’ll admit I find myself checking emails as I drive. Did you know there’s an ap for Facebook?

This technological hot rod came with four- count ‘em, four- books. One whole book is devoted solely to making phone calls.

I have a simple solution to so much information. I just drive by the dealership for another lesson.

The guys at Lade have amazing customer service, especially for technologically challenged middle-aged mom-types.

But I’m seriously concerned about Ford’s future truck sales and here’s why:

My sporty little Edge doesn’t understand Jeremy too well.

Every time Jeremy spoke a command, the car’s screen said, listening…listening…listening….

I suspect my techy new Silver Bullet - yep, that’s what my teenage son and I call our new voice activated joy ride - is listening for the King’s English.

“I guess I can’t tell my car I’m fixin’ to call someone, huh Jeremy,” I said.

He laughed and gave me the title for this column.

I’m thinking those engineers at Ford better come up with a computer that listens for a Texas twang or they are gonna have some disappointed cowboys singing songs about losing their true loves because their pick up truck couldn’t dial her number.

And maybe trucks should answer with a younger, sexier voice.

My son suggested Carrie Underwood.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Social Networking. Good Grief!

I was trying not to be distracted by the fishnet hose, the French beret, and the incredibly stylish retro jacket.

So much fashion sense and brains to boot. Life is not fair.

I was supposed to be picking Megan Strout’s brain about social networking/social media for ways to help my readers, you understand. One benefit of being a writer is you never have to admit you are clueless you just pretend your readers need to know.

So, just what is social networking?

“It’s a cocktail party,” says Meg with her usual impish grin. She totally knows I’m baffled.

“By that I mean, it’s where you go to meet interesting people and learn new things,” she explains.

She tells me that by using free sites like Facebook and Twitter you can also market yourself, your business, your favorite charity or events.

She claims social networking is a great way to make new friends.

“What about the scary people,” I ask, thinking of her parents and how much they want her to be safe. Apparently, there are a thousand mysterious ways you can avoid scary people with technology, using a block, whatever that is. She assures me that avoiding trouble on the Internet is a lot like avoiding it in real life, common sense.

She showed me an app (that’s short for application) called yelp.com available on techy cell phones. Apparently it’s an example of the coolest new thing in social networking, “Location-Based Social Review Sites” as Meg calls them.

Strategic if you have a small business; an excellent way to find out who loves your business, keep in touch with customers, and get honest feedback on customer issues that can be corrected.

She typed Mexican Food into the search window of her iphone and up popped nearby restaurants. One great restaurant had a terrific and accurate review. My personal favorite did not.

If you have a small business, you can go to yelp.com and write a review or offer a coupon-type incentive for folks to come by.

Personally, I’m totally freaked out that Meg’s iphone knew where we were.

“GPS,” she explains. There’s that impish grin again.

Still, I’ve already installed yelp.com on my iphone. They make you take a picture before you can post a review.

After several really awful pictures of myself, I opted for a picture of the K on my keyboard. Not a bad shot.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

TV-Challenged

There was a time when I could turn on the TV all by myself.
That was in the days before Wii and VCRs complicated my life and introduced a set of at least three remotes into our household.
Maybe it’s just me but I call this phenomenon “Tyranny of the Remote.”
Occasionally, I get really fed up. My thinking goes something like this, “I am a college- educated person, for heaven’s sake, it can’t be that hard.”
After punching endless button combinations and resisting the urge to throw the annoying devices through the TV screen, I finally do what any sensible, college-educated person would do.
I call my son.
When he quits laughing, he walks me through the process again.
This never happens when he is home for one simple reason; the men in my life wouldn’t trust me with the clicker even if I did know how to use it. That’s because they tend to view the History Channel as a quick blip on the screen between Walker, Texas Ranger and Psyche.
I’m doomed to endless reruns of tough guy, manly stuff; superhero cartoons for big boys.
I like the fact that my men are so simple in their approach to TVs. They simply want the biggest, brightest, loudest one they can find.
Yes, sirree. They simply march in, make the purchase, take it home, then fiddle with the buttons until it does what it is supposed to. No technological challenge is too overwhelming; it distract them for one minute that there will be endless cables to hook up or programming to install.
We recently bought a new cabinet to hold the TV.
My biggest problem with it is that it came with a gigantic, gaping hole for the flat screen. Plus, there’s no way our extensive collection of John Wayne movies are going to fit in a few small drawers. And there’s no place in it for all the boxes we save.
I don’t really get the logic of holding onto the shipping boxes. I guess my brain shuts down as I try to figure out where to put them without causing a fire hazard.
Then, as I rack my brain, surveying the collection of corrugated cardboard in the attic, trying to remember which Sony and RCA products we actually still own, it suddenly dawns on me!
Maybe the reason my guys have brain cells for using the remote is because they aren’t distracted by Life’s Peripherals.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.

Boys’ Imaginations

“Special Operations – Marine Corps” it said in a simple, clear font.
On the plain vanilla business card was the picture of a tough-looking dude in sunglasses. No smile.
I would be worried about the state of our national security, except for one thing; I recognize my son’s friend in the picture.
My 12-year-old son’s own business cards say “Weapons Specialist.”
Technology has done wonders for boys’ imaginations, hasn’t it?
Of course, I had a spy kit with a plastic lipstick tube that was really a walky-talky. Unfortunately, that was in the day when parents still thought batteries were way too expensive to buy any time but Christmas. So, all my conversations about the target I was stalking were pretend conversations, the jist of which had to be reported to my fellow spy playmates when we rendezvoused at headquarters for peanut butter and jelly, uh, I mean, caviar and champagne.
One Sunday afternoon recently my son downloaded their pictures from my digital camera and found the program on my laptop to manufacture business cards. Later, when he delivered his friend’s business cards, the boys took a two hour break from defending our national interests to watch a movie full of special effects which were filmed in front of a green screen.
Apparently, the sharp and deadly swords in the film were really just sticks which are less dangerous for the actors and more realistic after you fix them up with modern technology. All this according to my son who is occasionally an expert on unexpected subjects.
I hid my video camera. I’m in favor of education and technology, but a mom can only take so much tinkering with her stuff in one day.
I didn’t bother to try to hide any sticks. It’s been my experience that boys will make weapons out of anything that happens to be handy at the moment.
“Hey mom, can I borrow your spray paint?” he asked mid-afternoon.
You can imagine what that question did for my peace of mind.
In spite of modern technology, some things haven’t changed. For instance, my son and his friends still fight for truth and justice and the American way. Just like we did a million years ago in the days of black and white television and battery-operated lipstick spy gear.
They run around the neighborhood seeking out the bad guys who are now terrorists, a word we never thought of.
Our sons still take up sticks and defend the neighborhood, our flag, and our values.
And moms still have heart palpitations, not about digital cameras, laptops, and spray paint; but about the destiny of young men trained in courage and heroism.
All of which bodes well for future freedom, I suppose. Although I’m wondering if I should warn the Marines about what is coming up the ranks.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:/checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.

Facebook Loser

I managed to be on Facebook for several months without acquiring a single friend.
For those who don’t have young people in their homes still, Facebook is a “place” on the internet where tech-savvy folks go to communicate with each other. When you get on Facebook, a computer screen pops up that has your picture on it and pictures of your friends and a place for one-liners that people send to each other.
Kinda weird, huh? I’m having trouble adjusting.
Parents can also waste hours of time looking at pictures of their kids and all their kids’ friends. Not that I’ve ever done that in the middle of the night or anything.
I have Facebook because my daughter set it up for me.
My Facebook page has my picture on it because my kids also know how to use digital cameras. I can take pictures, but so far I can’t seem to get them off the camera. I am planning to learn how to transfer pictures off of my camera eventually. Someday.
Probably the same day I learn to use Facebook.
Anyway, I made the mistake of mentioning that I didn’t have any friends. On Facebook, you understand.
“I look like a Facebook loser,” I complained to my daughter.
Later that same day, when I opened my email, I had over 75 messages.
I realize this is nothing compared to some people who have hundreds of messages to sort through everyday, but I lead a quiet life. I get excited if I have an email that is not from a person related to me by birth or marriage.
Seventy-five emails! Imagine my surprise.
It turns out that to be a friend on Facebook involves emailing the person for permission.
It took me two days to figure out which of my children sent out the message that I was desperate for friends.
Of course, the children thought this was highly amusing.
Almost as funny as my son deciding it would be hilarious to text both his sisters and all their friends from my phone. Something I would never do myself.
I’m sorry. I like human voices. Plus, texting involves spelling in odd, abbreviated ways.
I have a grand total of 17 unopened texts still. If you sent one, feel free to call.
I found out that my son was texting when he suddenly became a fount of information about all his sisters’ friends. Apparently, he was letting them in on the joke because they were all so surprised to see my phone number associated with a text.
I have to admit, I think it is funny, too, at some bizarre, ironic level. It is so much like something I would do myself. If I only knew how to work all these new-fangled modern gadgets.
Just for the record, I have 22 friends on Facebook now. I guess I accidentally deleted the others.
Cathy Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.