My Cell Phone Doesn't Recognize Me

My cell phone doesn't recognize me. Me! The guy who pays for its feeding each month...the guy who bought him the little leather jacket so he wouldn't fall and be smashed, cracked, broken, fragmented, in a mess, in a heap, no good, worthless, of no use. (No issues here.)

I tried the security app that allows face and voice recognition in order to unlock your phone, so as to provide added protection. I thought that was pretty nifty ("nifty" - from what dark pool did that arise all of a sudden?). Sorry, side bar - nifty makes me feel the need to wear plaid, dungarees, sneakers, eat peanut butter and jelly on white bread with a glass of whole milk, and call shotgun for the station wagon. [End Scene].

Okay, the phone who doesn't know his own Daddy - owner. So, I confirmed the app, allowed the phone to take my pic, and spoke the magic word for voice activation six times so it would understand me clearly. Okay, I spoke in French to the gadget, but it was to understand. It agreed it had. While on line in the grocery store, waiting to bless the running belt with groceries from the store's myriad of shelves, coolers, freezers, I held up my phone and looked at it. Immediately, I realized how odd I felt at the action itself: looking at my phone as if I were seeing it for the first time. This is a p-h-o-n-e - pa-hon-ee. No, fone (with a long o sound, silent e at the end); what's it for? You get the idea. It was foreign all of a sudden. In order to make my phone more secure, I handed it the power to recognize me in order to let me in to my own phone. Does this not seem ludicrous?

Staring at the phone, feeling fully stupid, noting how absurd this was, yet how normal this has become, I proceeded to unlock my phone.

The phone (I paraphrase): I DON'T RECOGNIZE YOU.

This has lead to an afternoon and evening of musings, ideas, doubts, a plethora a'plenty. So, more to come on this one. I'm not through with it for sure. Here's hoping my Blog recognizes me. Here's hoping I recognize me.

Timothy?

Ramping up to School Days! Set the table!

As tradition has it, academics and the classroom beckon at this time of year. Sounds like a holiday in such a "word frame". Yet, as an instructor, it is indeed a holiday of sorts. I begin to anticipate the possibilities this semester will bring. Too many times have I been asked if I get bored, teaching the same thing over and over. My definite and determined response is a resounding "No!" The material is boring if I choose for it to be, yet what defines the classroom experience for me is the incredible interaction with so many different people, students from every walk of life.

Imagine serving a meal to a group of thirty people. Maybe you have several vegetarians, a vegan, someone who is lactose intolerant, someone who has no clue as to protocol at a dinner: which fork do I use or when do I begin eating? Sure, that would be a bit more formal, but then so can a classroom when needed. For me, this dinner and teaching have similar dynamics: I have to know who is showing up, what they already know, what they do not know, how they learn, their past experiences with learning, how they interact with their host.

I could put a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly (grape of course), and let that be it. This is it. This is the course content. It's up to you to eat the stuff or not. I'm just going to put it out there. If you don't choose to eat (learn the material), that's your problem. This metaphor could take many roads I think you will agree.

So, I look forward to my dinner guests. Yes, I'll tell students which fork to use as well as when we began using forks in Western culture even though America did not get the fork until later than Europe. Hopefully, my students will inform me well on what works for them, which foods they prefer. So, a new semester begins. Time to plan a number of dinner parties. Can't wait to meet my guests.

Here's to a great academic year! (No, you don't drink before everyone else during a moment of "Cheers". Use a semicolon for that. No, a comma won't do; it isn't strong enough to hold back that brewski. 

FIGS - yep, figs.......

     Figs. Yes, just figs. Growing up, the only figgish thing I knew of was a cookie that encased a rather thick, dark, sweet, paste-like substance. I found the odd scattering of white specks throughout this filling quite interesting, having no idea that these were seeds. So, my childhood relationship was limited with regard to figs. For years, the fig was to me like a butternut squash; it was there, but I had little interest in it. I'm confident that you are familiar and skilled with the proper response to things in which you have no investment.

A friend (figophile?) says, "Look! Aren't these figs just beautiful! Look! Here's the butternut squash that I grew from one little seed. Amazing. My, my, my."

Response: "Well...my, my.....yes, that's nice." Grin ever so subtly as you back away. (A faint chuckle or giggle is quite appropriate here, yet do feign sincerity.)

    When I moved into my home on Birmingham's Southside, near Avondale Park, I found that I had a fig tree right at the back of the house, growing directly up and out, embracing the stairs to my deck. It is presently over two stories tall and I imagine ten feet or more in width at its widest point. By looking at the base and the larger branches, I imagine it's a rather old fig tree. Although not initially, I began to become aware of its offering each year, a bounty of fresh figs. (Surely, these are organic.) Some years, I have been unable to keep up with the harvest; some years have been lean. All that stated, now I hail the fig as a wonder and quite a gift.

     The fig season doesn't last that long. I would say that for two to three weeks during the summer, I can plan on gathering a pound or more of figs every morning. There is nothing quite like walking right onto the deck and picking figs from the top branches and also walking through the grass - barefoot - and picking them from every branch possible. Sometimes, they don't all make it back into the house - breakfast, don't you know. Fig trees have large, tough leaves and the branches tend to be quite flexible so I can pull a tall branch down to me for picking these succulent, juicy chunks of sweetness. So, here are two observations which in turn provide two lessons. See what you think.

1. Figs can hide in plain sight. It is only by moving around the tree and looking at multiple angles as well as under the leaves that I discover more of them. Those affords a wonderful moment for having playful discussions with the figs (when alone), almost like playing hide and seek. Did I really tell you that? 
    Lesson: Searching for answers to problems becomes easier if one considers multiple perspectives. The pay off can be sweet.

2. Figs are a favorite food for birds and squirrels and other creatures I'm sure. (I keep hearing about snakes; well, they can have some figs as well.) You can typically tell who or what has eaten or worked on a fig. If there is a neat, but pronounced hole in the bottom of the fig, it's likely a bird.

If the fig has been mauled to death, and there is but a shattered bit hanging from its branch, reminiscent of some horror flick, I should think that a squirrel had his way with said fig. Either way, I don't use those, but I do pick them and throw them out into the yard, thinking I am throwing my fellow creatures "off the scent".

     Lesson: Know that others have the same goals, needs and desires as we do (Knowing how others go about achieving such is worth noting - squirrels for example).

I remind myself that people and these creatures need food as well, and I have yet to see a squirrel at the check-out counter at the local Piggly Wiggly. (Yes, these stores exist - not just in a movie) So, if they eat a few, that's fine. I make a point to leave a number of ripe figs on the tree so the furry and winged ones can do their shopping as well. Side note: I've become aware that there are raccoons in my backyard now and then, yet I don't know if the fig tree could support their weight, and they also make an audacious racket when around.

So, the larger lesson for me is to know when I have plenty, enough; I don't have to have it all. 
For me, this is applicable to so many parts of life. 

I hope to share a few photos with you of the fig tree and figs - once I take them :) MANY thanks to "Bayou Woman" for her incredible recipe for fig preserves. I had more figs than I knew what to do with, so twelve  jars of fig preserves were the result of that concern. Fun to make and I was able to use my Mom's big canner/water bath/canning thingy pot.  

Thanks for reading. I hope you will respond and please become a follower of my blog. Themes range from the ordinary to the not ordinary and possibly the strange. A stream of consciousness may be a still, quiet stream of water or a babbling (I do mean babbling) brook or possibly raucous rapids. I just never know. Until then...

Peace to you.
Timothy