Tag: #technology

Hey Siri

It is only when they go wrong that machines remind you how powerful they are.

Clive James

Today it seems that everyone has a cell phone, even my nieces and nephews received smart phones when they were 10 years old. One might wonder what does a 10-year-old need with a phone? The answer depends on the perspective. For the parents it satisfies a safety concern, for the kids it satisfies their addiction to the latest video games. Unlike a computer, the smart phone lets them play anywhere at any time – 24/7.  

If I had had a phone at 10, I would have been able to call my mom at Magic Mountain when I wandered away from our after-ride meeting spot. Realizing I was lost, I did the adolescent most responsible thing, I wandered around the entire park looking for them. I checked the parking lot and was happy to see they didn’t leave without me. So I checked all of the other rides. Thinking they might be hungry like me, I check the restaurants to see if they were eating without me. I finally gave in and faced the truth. I was lost. So I went to the Lost and Found booth to see if my parents were waiting there. They weren’t, as they too where busy wondering the park. The officer was able to reach out on my behalf and bring us together. 

All could have been avoided had I stayed where I was supposed to wait and had I realized that the people getting off the ride were the people who went into the ride before them. The other solution, I could have just gone on the ride, but then I would not have gotten the Mickey Mouse rain jacket the police officer provided to a scared and rain-soaked 10 year old. At the end of the day when time had soothed the anxiety pains and Mickey was still keeping me warm and dry, I began to think it worked out pretty good for me. I still have a tendency to wander off the beaten path and get turned around, but my trusty cell phone has made getting unlost sufficiently easy to the point that I now am no longer burdened with the ‘I will never be found syndrome’. 

I remember buying a 20-foot phone cord that would let me take the desk phone from the office to my bedroom for 14-year-old girl talk privacy. I was later excited when we bought our first wireless receiver. I could then talk anywhere in the house and even on the front porch with just a handheld phone receiver, WOW. Now, my iPhone has advanced from a wallet sized phone that allows phone calls from most anywhere in the world to a small, advanced computer. Even more amazing, I can dictate a letter into my watch and have it sent as a text message and even answer a phone call on my watch. We have advanced to the point where we need on-line classes to learn how to use our phones to monitor our sleep and our wellbeing, how to take and edit photographs and videos from our professional-grade phone cameras, and how to use all of the programs that make life easier. 

My dad brought home the newest iPhone 12 ProMax this week. It is a bit heavier, wider, has a better tri-lens camera for landscape photos, has more memory, and a battery that lasts longer. However, the new Siri may need some improvements. My dad decided it was time that Siri got his name right. He felt confident this new Siri on his phone was up to the task. 

He asked Siri, “What is my name?” It told him, “Dobson.” It believes my dad’s name is, actually, the name of his place of employment. When my dad asked to change his name, Siri wanted to know the nickname he wanted to change. After dad said, “Dobson.” The phone seemed to go dead. We sat at the table for a minute or more when my dad, thinking he needed to start over, said, “Hey Siri.” The phone said, “Hey Siri,” back. Then my dad’s Ipad awoke with, “What can I do for you.” Every time someone said, “Hey Siri”, Siri, responded with my dad’s new name, “Hey Siri” and it started another device. This went on for about 10-15 minutes before Siri was reprogramed to acknowledge my dad’s name is Dennis and not “Hey Siri” or “Dobson.” 

Moral: 1) Be patient as Siri is always learning too. 2) While cell phones are great, don’t forget to take some time to live as if cell phones don’t exist and spend more time communicating in person at a CDC socially acceptable distance. 

Feel free to share your stories in the comments below or at zsmisadventures@gmail.com and your story may be used in an upcoming blog. Stay Whimsical.  

Tales of the Wild

Light a campfire and everyone is a storyteller.

John Geddes

John Geddes said, “Light a campfire and everyone is a storyteller.”  

The real saying should be, “Light a campfire and everyone THINKS they are a storyteller.” I have been camping quite a few times and can say with certitude that some people are born storytellers, and some would be better listening. I am one of those people. I am great at writing stories but need time to think and really make them into something great. If I tell a story on the spot it tends to go off in a hundred different directions. I‘m compelled to give an overly detailed description of each person and where the event took place which does not allow any time to tell the actual story. Thus, I leave the campfire stories to the man who was born to tell stories… My dad. 

My dad can tell stories in such a convincing way that despite one’s better judgment you might start questioning if it is true that he once was asked out by an Arabian Princess, but decided my mother was too fine a woman to pass up. 

Over the years he has learned to perfect his storytelling by using the plethora of gadgets that modern technology has to offer. On the last camping trip with nieces and nephews in Oregon, he even got his sons in on the mischief. My dad spent at least a day constructing a story about wolves. He gave a brief outline of the story to my brothers so they knew what keywords they might need to listen to. The day we arrived at the campsite my dad and brothers placed several Bluetooth speakers in the trees North and South of our campsite. After a thrilling day of rafting and fishing, everyone sat around the campfire roasting marshmallows and making the world’s biggest s’ mores. Once everyone was full and could hardly move, my dad started to tell his campfire tale. 

It was subtle. Campfire stories usually talk about a monster eating children in the middle of the night who do not brush their teeth. Dad talked about reading that the State had recently re-introduced wolves to the forests of central Oregon. He explained how farmers, worried about their farm animals, enlisted the help of hunters back in the 1940s to kill all the wolves. With the help of Wolf Conservation groups, the area North of our campsite was now home to a large pack of grey wolves. The brown wolves known as the Fivemile Pack lived in the forest area South of our camp. As my dad finished drawing a map in the dirt of where we were camped and where the wolves hunted for food, a faint howl could be heard off in the distance. When the children asked if that was a wolf they just heard, my dad and the rest of the group assured them it was alright as the wolves keep to their own territory, so we should be fine for the night. As my dad continued his “history lesson” the wolf sounds started to become more frequent and sounded as if they were coming from both the North and South sides of our camp. Dad explained that there was nothing to worry about as long as no one wandered off into the woods alone without a flashlight. When they asked the obvious, “How is a flashlight going to stop a wolf.”  

“Wolves won’t come near a fire or light at night unless they are in a fight,” he answered. He told about reading that a young boy in a campground not far from ours, had gone off to pee in the woods without a light and was ripped to shreds by a hungry wolf. As the gory details of the story were laid out, the wolf howls faded into the distance. Dad said not to worry, “You will hear wolf howls from the North and from the South. It is when the howling gets louder and closer from both sides that we might have a fight on our hands. If that happens just stay quiet. They are looking for a fight not food. Understand?” 

They nodded and said dad’s tale was not scary at all, despite asking several times if we should leave the area to avoid the wolves. 20 minutes after the kids crawled into their sleeping bags, the wolf sounds started up again. The oldest, flashlight in hand, unzipped my neighboring tent and asked if I would sleep with them. About the time we got settled in again, the howling got louder and louder. A few minutes later sounds of movement in the bushes could be heard right outside the tent. While one of the kids started crying, I kept reassuring them that I would not let them get hurt, willingly that is. Eventually, the night was quiet, and I fell asleep. The kids tugged me awake and asked if I would take them to the restroom, not because they were scared, but because they felt it best to go in a larger group. I didn’t question their logistical tactic and assured them if they were scared that was completely normal. I was scared too. I have never encountered a wolf, nor do I plan to. 

Towards midnight, the adults began howling when the wolves howled. The children were not amused, they just knew that they were surrounded by wolves and now the wolves knew exactly where we were. They came up with a plan to evacuate the campsite, a plan to spend the night in the campsite restroom, and a plan to run in different directions and jump in the river because one of them thought that wolves like cats wouldn’t jump in the water. I promised to stay awake and keep watch. Finally, everyone slept. 

For the next few days, the children talked about the wolves and assured everyone they were not scared and would be willing to take on a wolf if need be. Eventually, the children were let in on the secret and thus refused to speak to any of us for the remainder of that day. They reminded us how mean we were while, at the same time, it was something they wanted to try out on their children someday.  

My dad, the storyteller, has turned his tale into a family acknowledgment, whenever the Melgreens get together and a quiet settles over the gathering, someone will let out a glorious wolf howl. Like good packs, we all join the chorus. 

Moral: 1) Technology is one way to make an innocent story come alive. 2) Not all campfire stories have to be a tale of death and destruction. 

Feel free to share your campfire stories in the comments below or email Zsmisadventures@gmail.com and your story may be featured in an upcoming blog.