September marks the start of the 14th year for this weekly column. Many thanks to you, dear reader, for making it all possible. Without your faithful readership, the many adventures growing up at 110 Flamingo Street, the stories about The Wife and The Boy, and the general observations of life might never have made their way to print. Unfortunately, this could be the last one.
It’s been said creatures that can no longer adapt to their changing environment will eventually become extinct. Well, it looks like yours truly will soon go the way of the mighty dinosaur – all because of a high tech television remote. Did I mention? It’s all The Boy’s fault.
The Boy and his family were over last week for dinner, and he wanted to play a DVD for Little One. Seems she simply loves the movie “Frozen,” with all the singing, the dancing, and of course, Olaf.
He thought it was ridiculous that three remotes had to be used just to play one movie. The Boy – not Olaf. Olaf is the singing, dancing snowman from “Frozen.”
The next day The Boy took a road trip to the giant electronics store with the blue roof and soon returned with my new remote. He stated, “This is the last remote you’ll ever need. It’s a smart remote and can combine five remotes into one.” Then he started to program it. I told him I only had three remotes – four, if you count the one he just bought.
I asked him, “If the remote is so smart, why can’t it simply program itself.”
He mumbled something that sounded like, “Thanks, Dad, for dinner last night,” and continued to work programming the foot-long device.
An hour later, The Boy proudly announced that Tom was now in complete control of my smart television, DVD, cable, surround-sound system, and overhead lights.
Upon hearing this, I asked The Boy two things. “We have a smart TV?” and “Who the heck is Tom?”
I really only half heard his answer. Olaf had broken out into a song and dance routine second only to Fred Astaire, one I personally think should win the talented little snowman an Academy Award or at least a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Turns out, The Boy named our smart remote Tom. With just one push of a button, Tom could turn on every device. Once on, I can simply tell Tom to start “Frozen” and Olaf dances across our smart TV. Another voice command and the lights slowly dim.
Rather cool, I must admit. Or should I say smart? I asked The Boy, “Now that I have a smart TV and a smart remote named Tom, guess that makes me rather smart, now doesn’t it?”
The Boy just mumbled something and left. Seems he does a lot of that lately. Guess working all the time, two babies in diapers, and no sleep for months on end will do that to you.
Wanting to prove I was smarter than Tom, and at least as smart as The Boy, I too left the house talking to myself. Don’t worry, I’m not crazy – I’m a writer. Besides, all the voices in my head get bored just talking to themselves.
After a quick trip to the giant electronic store with the blue roof, I returned with Bob, our new smart remote for the basement television. I was gonna name the remote Olaf, but the folks at Disney would probably have an issue with that. Don’t want to get on the bad side of Mickey Mouse, now do we?
After three hours of trying to program the remote, I decided it was indeed smarter than me. I gave up and left the basement. On the way upstairs, I asked Bob to turn off the lights. All he did was mumble.
Guess I have to ask The Boy to come over and program Bob. After all, they seem to speak the same language.
[Rick Ryckeley, who lives in Senoia, served as a firefighter for more than two decades and has been a weekly columnist since 2001. His email is storiesbyrick@gmail.com. His books are available at www.RickRyckeley.com.]
