Meet Me at the Corner

“You should write a blog about your cell phone company waking you up in the middle of the night,”
my son-in-law, Robert, suggested. I was in Massachusetts this past weekend, visiting the family, and he thought it was funny that someone at Sprint has started pestering me with unwanted messages on my cell phone. He also likes the idea that his mother-in-law is a blogger so offers suggestions for topics from time to time.

I didn’t think my Community Now readers would care much about my irritation with my very own cell phone and, besides, I hadn’t brought along the secret code that allows me to post a blog.

But now I’m home, and the people at Sprint are still after me. I’d give them an earful, but when I reply to the perpetuator of various picture, text and voice messages, I just get a disembodied voice that wants to tell me about a new useful feature they think I can’t live without. Last night in a dream I was telling someone at Sprint off in no uncertain terms, but then I apologized, realizing that the sweet-looking recipient of my vituperation was just a customer service person and it wasn’t really her fault.

So far I haven’t seen one of those yellow “Dummy” books directed to cell phone users. Normally, I don't even page through those books, because I find the titles demeaning. Still. . . my very own cell phone continues to mystify me. That’s why, when it started playing a silly tune at 11 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time, I wasn’t even sure it was my little phone making all that racket. I have it set to a moderate ring – and since I almost never give out my cell phone number, I had no reason to expect a call.

It was the third time someone had been trying to send me pictures. Pictures! I don’t need pictures on that square inch of monitor, and the few times I’ve accidentally activated the camera, all I got were pictures of the kitchen counter or someone’s feet. Like many other people my age who enter the digital age in small increments, and balking, I use my cell phone mostly for emergencies and while on the road, though occasionally now I’ll call one of my long distance friends and relatives just to take advantage of my free weekend minutes.

I’ve had my sleek, black cell phone for a little over a year – a birthday gift from my son Matt who took me as an “add-on” to his own phone and promised to pay the bills. Well, you know that saying about not being able to look a gift horse in the mouth – in this case, a gift cell phone in the key pad. I sometimes actually like it, though I haven’t figured out all of its possibilities.

And it certainly never dawned on me that if the ringer volume is set to receive calls, that my very own cell phone company, not subject to the “Do Not Call” list of land-line phone service, would pester me with musical tunes to get my attention in the middle of the night.

Even though my daughter has turned picture and text messaging to an unobtrusive vibrate, those Sprint people are still after me.

I think I’ll suggest to Matt that we switch to Verizon.

Yesterday my students and I all did a freewriting, “Reflections on September 11th.” I thought about my daughter, Ericka, and son-in-law, Robert, who would be celebrating their 8th wedding anniversary and remembering her phone call to me six years ago: “Don’t worry, Mom, we weren’t on that plane.”

At the time I was at my computer, typing, as I am right now, and I hadn’t heard the news yet. “What plane?” I asked, and then she told me. Like the rest of the nation, I spent the remaider of that day in front of the television, mesmerized by the devastating images and listening to the newsmen and women trying to help us make some sense out of the tragic sequence of events. Ericka and Robert had planned to fly out of Boston that day to celebrate their 2nd anniversary but, as she made clear, they hadn’t been on the ill-fated plane, and they would not be taking any celebratory trip that day.

Most of my students at Concordia University Wisconsin were 12 years old on September 11, 2001. They weren’t required to turn their freewriting in, but most of them did, and I find the tears welling up within me as I read some of their reflections today. The names I’ve given them are not the students’ real names.

Mitzi: “This morning I woke up tired and complaining that I had class at 8 in the morning. I did not even realize what today was. While I am complaining about today, millions around are wishing that they could have seen or heard from their loved ones just once more. In society today, we take things so for granted. I should not complain about any day, but be glad that I am here for another day.”

Samantha: “That morning I was in science with Mrs. Snyder. People came in and told us to turn on the news. I will never forget what I saw as I looked upon that television. It almost seemed unreal to me. Why would someone do this? Looking at the people who were running frantically from the scene to those rushing to help, a wave of immense grief came over me. To this day those feelings come back whenever I recall this horrific event. This will be one of the most memorable moments in my life. I don’t know why tragedy makes me remember, but just thinking about all the people who died makes me thankful that my family and friends were safe. To see the people in the streets looking for their loved ones was difficult to watch. At times I had to look away. I can’t imagine what those people felt if I, as a 12-year-old girl, was so greatly impacted.

Rhonda: “I was in 7th grade science class when my teacher got a message she was supposed to check her e-mail. She did, and all of a sudden my 7th grade science class and I watched as our teacher’s eyes filled with tears. She told us all calmly that the world trade center in New York had been crashed into by a plane. She then turned T.V. on and we all sat watching, confused and in shock as flames shot out of the buildings. Not a sound was made, I remember it being so quiet. No one (at this young age) knew what was going on or what to do about it. It was so weird to see our teachers crying and staring at the T.V. in shock.

“Looking out the window, I saw a plane flying overhead and feared it would crash into our school. I remember being so confused as to what was happening. My mind raced as I thought about those poor people in those buildings, and the fear their families must have been in. We saw the firemen standing and watching, not knowing what to do. Looking at the T.V., we heard and saw people running and screaming as the first tower collapsed. It was then that our teacher decided to turn off the T.V., leaving us all to sit there in shock. No one said a word. Everyone was silent, except for tears shed by a few who were scared.”

Allison: “On the sixth anniversary of the attacks made in America, I have many thoughts and questions. Sadness fills my mind as well. I remember the day so clearly. It’s one of those days that nobody in America will forget. It’s a topic that will be written in new history textbooks.

“Today marks the sixth anniversary and as I reflect back I can only be sad. I was in my seventh grade math class around 8:45 when teachers were told about the crisis. Once the students were informed, every television was turn on. After seeing the trade centers collapse and realizing how many people had died, my emotions couldn’t be controlled. The school nurse sent me home, and for the entire day and night I was glued to the news on television.

“To understand how much of an impact [this has made on] our society and now today, looking back and trying to realize how society has changed – has America changed for the better or worse? Have Americans become more united or have we just fallen farther apart? Many questions are in my head, and many can’t be answered. For all the families who lost a loved one, may the Lord be with them.”

When my grandson Matty started kindergarten last week, his dad captured a photograph of him and his pal Morgan walking hand in hand, their backs to the camera. It was a poignant moment – and it brought life in Massachusetts a little closer to Wisconsin.

But wait a minute! I thought. Why would Matty need that Superman backpack on his very first day in kindergarten? Morgan wasn’t sporting Superwoman. The answer came, as the image had – via email. “It's empty,” his father wrote, “but he likes wearing it. A sort of cape, I guess.”

This kindergarten Superman and friend now greet me every time I turn on my computer (my new screensaver.)

***
This weekend my brother Vince Johnson turned 65. About 10 years ago he moved to Alberta, Canada where he married a lovely woman, Betty, whom he had met in a chat room on the Internet. I’m not sure all Internet romances work out so well, but this one certainly has! Unfortunately, I don’t see them too often.

For their wedding, I wrote this lighthearted verse, entitled “Internet Romance”:

They met online
He said, "Be mine."
"We'll see," said she.
"Come visit me."

He did (– he flew!)
Their romance grew
And when he left
Both were bereft.

"Come back!" she said,
And so they wed.

. . . .
Now ever since
Betty and Vince
Tell how they met
On Internet.

If you don’t already have these two events marked on your calendar, it’s not too late!

1) The Friends of the Franklin Library annual booksale (at 9151 W. Loomis Road.)
There’s something here for everyone’s reading taste – at bargain prices.

The times are Saturday, September 8, from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
and Sunday, September 9, from 1 to 4 p.m. (Sunday is “Bargain Book Day” with even lower prices.)

All proceeds go to support special events and projects at the library.

2) The 25th annual Harvest of Art and Crafts Show at historic Trimborn Farm Park, 8881 W. Grange Avenue.

The times for both Saturday and Sunday, September 8 and 9, are from 9:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Admission is $4.

This year 160 artists and craftspeople from throughout the upper Midwest will display and sell thousands of unique creations in numerous media. Other attractions include musical entertainment, children’s activities, and an opportunity to tour the historic buildings and grounds. A “spouses’ waiting area” will broadcast Sunday’s Packer football game.

The event is hosted by the Milwaukee County Historical Society. Proceeds will help support and restore Trimborn Farm.

See you there!