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IMPRESSIONS: Technology – but with a beautiful smile

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By Johnny Teglas

Time was I was the son setting the time on my dad’s VCR.

The worm, as they say, has turned.

Let’s just say I’ve been humbled more times than I ought to admit in recent months by my techno-savvy kid.

First, it was the VCR/DVD burner combo Santa brought us.

At least I could set the clock. But that was about it.

After re-reading the instructions for something like the millionth time, I gave up and asked my son for help.

In about 10 seconds, he had everything talking to the TV.

Oh, did I mention the TV?

The big screen in our den never does respond to my remote-control requests.

Jon Clark waves his magic wand and voila! … it works.

“Now, don’t touch this,” the 22-year-old cautions his old man while pointing at one of the buttons.

How dumb do I feel?

Pretty much a dunce.

Now, believe it or not, the dumb guy has been introduced to the smart phone.

For crying out loud, now I understand why said son was asking about the account number for our cellular service last week.

Somehow, he learned he could get a two-fer deal from our provider so he could upgrade his smart phone to a brilliant one while eliminating one of his pet peeves — my ancient little “Dick Tracy” that had a hard time holding a charge.

My head’s spinning.

Sitting at a table in a restaurant Sunday morning, he excitedly demonstrated all the fantastic features my new phone has.

It went in one ear and out the other.

His data dump pretty much started running down the back of my neck the moment he started.

After all, staff here at the newspaper has spent the past several weeks learning a lot of new things as well.

Sometime during the wee hours Sunday morning, it all came together when our new website platform went live.

We’re pleased with the efforts and are doing our best to report any issues to our information technology people.

So I wasn’t exactly in the mood for a personal technological transition.

“Show me how to turn it on. Show me how to put a number in. Show me how to make a call. Show me how to check my voice mail. Show me how to turn it off,” I whined. “I don’t care about the rest.”

You’d of thought I’d driven a stake through his heart for not sharing in his excitement.

Undeterred, he continued to explain features and the steps that make them work.

I have to admit, I was excited that whenever my wife calls me a picture of her pretty face pops up on the screen.

Now, that’s really cool.

Still, no matter how smart the phone … there’s still a dumb guy holding it.

Speaking of really cool …
Did you see the story in Friday’s paper about Selena, Rebecca Northern’s Jack Russell terrier, that saved her life recently?

Now, that is COOL!

Every now and again, I hear a stinging criticism or two about dogs and cats in the paper.

It really surprises me.

After all, most folks I know love their ‘fur babies” as much as their own flesh and blood.

For that matter, a learned college journalism professor who stopped in for some consultation a couple years back chided us for not having enough critter content.

His visit coincided with the big Michael Vick dog-fighting story.

“If you don’t think people love their pets, just follow what’s going on with him,” the professor stressed.

To be honest, I was never much of a pet person — until I got married, that is.

After several months of late nights at work, my wife informed me she wasn’t quite comfortable being at home alone.

She told me in no uncertain terms to get her a gun or a dog.

I opted for the dog.

Nearly 30 years later, we still keep a pooch around.

Right now, we have two.

Our eldest and boss dog is a 15-year-old golden retriever.

She’s hard of hearing and can hardly see. Aggie is a daddy’s girl and curls up against me in bed.

Peyton, our yellow lab, is 12 and all momma’s boy. Wherever she is, he is.

Sadly, Peyton won’t be with us much longer.

In January, he was diagnosed with bone cancer.

The vet suggested a conservative treatment plan that would keep him as comfortable as possible for up to a month, maybe two.

Surprisingly, Peyton is with us after seven months. We cherish every wag of his helicopter tail, every lick or kiss he gives us, every moment of joy he brings to us.

It’s obvious he’s slowing down as the disease runs its course.

His lame front leg causes him to stumble every now and again. And his big brown eyes look sadly up at us because he can’t hop up in bed beside us and Aggie anymore.

I just give him a little boost so he can pile up next to his
mommy.

Peyton’s been boosting our spirits since they day we rescued him from a cold, hard porch.

Hopefully, we can boost him during his last days.