I always enjoy the occasional visit from my son who lives way out in San Francisco. During his last visit, he announced that he was going to get my digital life in order. He said, "Dad, I'm going to establish a wireless cloud in this house and bundle all your communications services."
His plan was laced with other techno-jargon like: Thunderbolt, Firefox and Bluetooth. All I got out of it was that his cloud project is going to cost me a bundle of money. I was probably in a mild state of shock as I began reminiscing about how simple communications used to be until the 1980s.
My old telephone was a massive black instrument, with a large ten-hole rotary disk for dialing numbers. Yes, the handset cord had me tethered to the phone and it always got tangled up, but I felt a sense of security as I was using that stationary phone. That's probably because I could visualize the other party similarly tethered, not driving in hectic traffic or shopping in the mall.
Back then, all telephone lines were up on poles rather than buried underground. I'm sure birds resting high up on the wires used to eavesdrop on my conversations. That prompted me to weigh my words very carefully as I spoke, especially when I was flirting with those sweet long-distance operators of yesteryear.
Then there was my one and only AM radio. Two Civil Defense triangles were prominently displayed on the tuning dial; so I was definitely ready in case the Soviets tried to nuke us. Whenever I found myself worrying about that at night, I'd peek into the back of the radio case to savor the calming orange glow of glass vacuum tubes.
What pleasure it gave me, listening to shows like “The Lone Ranger” on my AM radio in the early 1950s. The powerful voices and studio sound effects were mesmerizing. Admittedly, it wasn't until later in life that I learned Silver's galloping horse sound was made using coconut shell halves. Imagine, while I was standing in line for a burger last week, somebody's cell phone sounded off with the show's theme music, a hearty "Hi-Yo, Silver," and six-shooter blasts that startled other customers.
Another long-gone communications device is my console TV, with its huge antenna up on the roof. The antenna rotated when I activated a control switch; so I got the thrill of aiming it toward each of the TV station towers on the horizon. The blinking red aviation warning lights on the taller ones seemed to say, "Watch me, watch me. "
I miss all those late night movies on the black and white TV: Cooper, Bogart, Garland, Garbo, etc. Luckily, my son is fixing it so I can use my credit card to watch old films via "pay-for-view" on one of those tiny smartphones. I also miss the national anthem at the end of the broadcast day, as well as the Indian Head Test Pattern that TV stations used to display late at night. The Chief and I always used to bid each other good night.
At any rate, my son is still busy trying to thrust me into the Information Age. I told him that my head is going to bust from too many choices to make and too much information flowing at me. He tried to reassure me with more geekspeak, "Don't worry; you'll have filters, blockers, and tailored feeds to restrict your web content." That must mean I'm going to be shielded from almost everything I'm paying for.
Truth be known, I was getting real grumpy about all this until he explained how I'll be able to use an Internet webcam to enjoy video visits with my little grandson out on the West Coast. Evidently there's a silver lining in every cloud, even my dreaded wireless cloud.
Liburdi’s recent book "Italian-American Fusion: Italy’s Influence on the Evolution of America" is available at on-line bookstores and the Kindle Reader. This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.