About Me

Woman, reader, writer, wife, mother of two sons, sister, daughter, aunt, friend, state university professor, historian, Midwesterner by birth but marooned in the South, Chicago Cubs fan, Anglophile, devotee of Bruce Springsteen and the 10th Doctor Who, lover of chocolate and marzipan, registered Democrat, practicing Christian (must practice--can't quite get the hang of it)--and menopausal.
Names have been changed to protect the teenagers. As if.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Red Prada Shoes

Did you know the pope wears red Prada shoes? The things I learn from The Daily Show.

Except I just googled it, and according to the New York Daily News, the Prada part is incorrect. And it turns out the red shoes are traditional and even liturgical. Damn. Just hate facts. It also turns out that the pope's red Prada shoes have been the subject of much comment, controversy, and internet buzz. And I had no idea. I hate that even more than I hate facts. I don't want to be an Out-Of-Touch Person. I don't want to be my mother, refusing to consider a computer, furious that her grandchildren post photos on Facebook rather than presenting them, framed, at her door. I don't want to be my colleague who hauls gigantic maps into the classroom and then gets all pissed off when he discovers that the metal map clips that used to be on the top of the chalkboard have been removed. "Jim," I say, "I can show you how to get those maps online. You can project them--" He waves his arm and walks away. I really don't want to be that guy.

I do, however, have a stack of books that I really want to read. And movies I want to watch. And I'd like to learn Polish and figure out pot gardening. (Wait. That sounds strange. I mean growing herbs and flowers in pots, not cultivating marijuana. At least, not yet.) Anyway, the point is, there's so little time. Must I spend it mastering the latest technological manual, when I know very well that that technology will be out of date in a year or two? I feel proud, in fact, that I never learned how to set the time on my VCR. What would be the point, now?

But how do you figure out which things have a point and which do not? I thought the Nook had a point but now there are tablets and there's no point, is there? I spent time figuring out the Nook, time that could have been spent learning Polish. Or reading Booker Prize novels. Or growing pot. Or, I dunno, doing great good things. Or at least good things. Instead I mastered the Nook and now there's no point. And the tablet awaits. And I find myself exhausted. Scared. Resentful, really.

My mother. She's there. I have seen the Future and it is She.

2 comments:

  1. You might tell your mom that my mom (almost 81) is on Facebook daily to see what her children and grandchildren are posting. She rarely posts herself, thank goodness, given her political views. My nemesis is my fancy camera that I basically use like a point-and-shoot. The manual is an inch thick with a 6-point font.

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  2. I dare not even utter the word "computer" to my mom any more. Her church has moved the "Prayer Concerns" from the weekly (printed) bulletin handed out during the service to the website and let me tell you, this 82-year-old faithful churchgoer is REALLY pissed off!

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