Baile Rochel #8 Technology

Baile Rochel's Back #8
September 6, 2005
The 2nd of Ellul

Technology

We have a scanner. Actually we've had it for a couple of weeks, ever since I schlepped it back after visiting my daughter in Tel Aviv. It was hers, but she had never used it. It came with the package when she bought my sister-in-law's computer when they decided to go back to the states. So it's not like it's new, which is actually good. That's because our computer is old. It's so old that we can't even do the "blog from Word" that blogger offers. A new scanner would probably have necessitated expensive upgrades, and we all know what that means.

I hired someone to set it up. Yes, he plugged and attached and detached and downloaded everything that had to be plugged and attached and detached and downloaded. Just saying it reminds me of the money well-spent. He even had to track down all sorts of wires and other parafanalia. Honestly, that's why I go to work. Some women have manicures, I hire a computer expert. Priorities. Yes, I have a husband, but he also prefers to go to work and leave the technical stuff to someone else.

My kids aren't like that. They know how to fix, change, attach etc. My youngest, ok, he's grown, post teen, made the digital camera bark like a dog. It gets rather embarrassing when photographing at important events. I click, the camera goes "woof," and everyone looks around. It's one of the reasons I still use my film camera. I'm a real whiz at changing film while the camera's hanging from my neck, a film in each hand and my pocketbook on my shoulder. I did it plenty on that Nefesh B'Nefesh flight. See. Believe me, after nursing my five kids and the required multi-tasking that requires, the film-changing's a breeze.

But there's another problem, the camera is dying. These ridiculous modern ones are all electric, not like my old reliable "Brownie." Sometimes the click doesn't catch, or whatever the technical thing is called, and I have to keep clicking and clicking, and don't forget that I have this serious hobby as a photo-journalist. Just last night I was at a neighbor's 90th birthday party, and the camera started getting shy. I was afraid that he'd be 92 before the camera flashed.

Besides, "personalizing" the digital camera, my son made the new cordless phone shriek in such a way, you'd think a siren was going off outside. The first time I heard it I missed the phone call. I opened the door and ran out in order to hear the announcement.

Recently my husband and I realized that it wasn't our advancing age and diminishing hearing that was making it harder to hear the phone. Somehow the ring had gotten lower. Rather peculiar considering that our sons are in the states, and I don't think that even they can made that sort of change from overseas by remote control.

As my summer vacation from teaching was ending, I found myself in need of a challenge. I put on my reading glasses and picked up the phone. I tried to read the codes and instructions on the buttons and tiny screen. There must be a way to make it loud enough to hear. How difficult can it be? I'm not that stupid. It can't be harder that running the washing machine.

Honestly, I can't say that it just took a second. It took longer, a good few minutes, but I wasn't going to let that phone defeat me. I was at war, and I won! I increased the ring volume. I was on a roll; victory is so sweet. So, I just kept going and looked for the ring menu, the choices, to get that crazy siren to stop. And not to leave you in suspense, I found it. After listening to all the choices, a few times, I chose some sophisticated chimes. They sort of sound like the chimes that announce school announcements in the movie "Grease."

Of course, I didn't want to brag, so I forgot to mention it to my husband, so of course he missed a call. He heard the chimes but never thought it was the phone. Actually, I didn't brag at all; this is the first time. So when my married daughter and her family came, her husband was shocked to hear the change in ring and volume.

Knowing full well that the boys are away, he asked: "Who changed it?"

"I," I answered proudly. He looked at me in disbelief.

"What's the big deal? From whom do you think the boys inherited their talents?"

But don't worry, I'll still keep supporting my local computer expert.