.....Well, it never ceases to amaze me how much the computer can contribute to our lives. I, for one, am grateful for having lived long enough to take advantage of this wonderful "machine". I don't know what else to call it--"instrument"?? Whatever. For example, my daughter Robin sent me photos of my grandfather's WWI registration! Now, how can you beat that for something to put on the family tree--or album? I have no idea how Robin could have found such a document that ought to have been lost ages ago. I learned that my grandfather, Jake, was born on June 15, 1874 and he registered for the Army on Sept. 12, 1918 which would make him 44. I have no idea why the Army would want anyone that age.
.....The registration form requires that you check off whether you are white, Negro, or Indian. Indian?? Apparently, he was not a U.S. citizen because he checked off the Alien column as a Russian immigrant. It's kind of a weird co-incidence that I was married to my ex-wife, Thelma, on the same date that Jake was born--June 15--only 73 years later. There is no doubt that this was Robin's great grandfather, because the address, 60 Madison Ave. was where I lived until my father's death. All this information came about because of the computer. Oh, I suppose there must be another way to get a copy of Jake's WWI registration, but I'm sure there would be a lot of red tape involved. But home computers are being called upon to perform many new functions, including the consumption of homework formerly eaten by the dog. And I wish life had an undo function--like the computer.
.....Another result of having a computer is the fact that I have been able to publish my memoirs, two books of poetry, and so far, seven books of this blog dating from August 2007. And now I am working on the eighth book! I think these writings provide interesting reading, particularly for any stranger to the family who happens to buy any of the volumes by mistake. I don't think anyone has thus far. The original purposes for writing this journal of my life in retirement was two-fold: 1) As a record of my life for my grandchildren--and great grandchildren, and beyond--after my demise, and 2) As an outlet to write--because I'm a writer, and I can vent my joy and my anger and anything in between. (And I suppose I can consider myself an "author" now. I like the sound of that). Insofar as great grandchildren are concerned, I don't think that will happen in my lifetime. All four of my grandchildren are approaching 30, and none of them is married as yet. I don't believe any of them is even dating at this point. What's the problem with this generation???? Whatever happened to love? "Where both deliberate, the love is slight; whoever loved who loved not at first sight?"
.....Another wonder of the computer is that you can get almost any information you desire. It's a window on the world for news, politics, economics, sports, entertainment, games and a host of other uses. Now, I haven't tried iPods, Blackberries, or Kindles as yet, and I don't think I will at this point in my life. Those devices would simply complicate everything while I'm trying to simplify. I'm not fond of Facebook and I avoid twitting. In God we trust, all others we virus scan. What other wonders am I facing in the future? Perhaps space travel? Imagine what can happen to your luggage. If it's lost, it could go into orbit!
Apropos of nothing, here is eyewitness testimony to the excellence of Doc Ross as a soccer referee. There was only one ref in a game in those days and he was generally unable to keep up with the fast pace of the action.
ReplyDeleteMany "calls" were educated guesses and I suspect that some were made to give the ref a breather. Amidst all this chaos, the Doc stood firm in his adherence to ruthless standards of personal excellence; personal standards of ruthless excellence; or whatever variation.
He was always in shape, always in the right location, and never made "chicken" calls. He ignored the coaches who fumed on the sidelines, but did not penalize their players.
In brief, the Baron was the ultimate referee, a calling that was much needed back in the day. Son, Joel, still playing against high-level competition, certainly inherited his father's devotion to leaving it all out on the field.
No offense to Bobby whom I never saw play.
I remember the time I introduced the Baron to the Internet. I set up a laptop in his kitchen, and hooked up a dial-up connection. He was very reluctant about the demo: "What could this Internet do that I can't already do?" So, I challenged him to ask any question he could think of, and he responded that he wanted to know the most recent World Cup draw. A few minutes later, we were looking at the FIFA website, with more information than he knew what to do with. "How'd it do that?" he asked. Then he bought his first computer. Then he started a blog.
ReplyDeleteI can't speak for many high tech devices, but if I could be so bold as to make a suggestion, I would recommend the IPod Shuffle. Although no larger than a tie clip, one can, with a PC, Mac or laptop, easily load it with hours and hours of one's favorite music. We've found this little thing a god-send on all sorts of long journeys, flights, etc. It has reasonably facile controls, dual modes of play and although the sound quality is good, one can still hear announcements: "Assume crash position" or whatever. Not very expensive, either. And, just in case you're wondering, I have no interest, financial or otherwise, in Apple Inc.
ReplyDeleteDoc, your father probably went to boot camp on Long Island with another Russian immigrant. This man was orphaned as a teenager in the Lower East Side, finally got his citizenship papers in February 1918, and promptly got his draft notice. Although he was an older man like your dad, and although he was already a millionare and famous, he reported for duty. He hated the 5:30 a.m. bugle as your dad probably did too. Most Americans know the poem he wrote about this, set to music as "Oh How I Hate To Get Up In the Morning." This Russian Jewish immigrant also wrote, "God Bless America." Name, of course, Israel Belice or Irving Berlin.
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