the philosophic relationship between god and the caller id

One of the best things god has created in this pre-millennium era is the caller id.  You wonder how the household survived prior to the intervention of this remarkable invention.  Everyone knows that the phone won’t ring until you pick up a hammer, break out the 2000 piece puzzle or start supper. 

If I consider my history with Ma Bell it wasn’t until I became a teenager that I actually remember talking into it on a regular basis.  Before my teenage years it was an occasional conversation with an auntie or my Nan.  As a teenager it became the conduit to meet up with friends and lovers.  During my twenties my lifestyle dictated that a phone was no use whatever.  I worked from boat to boat to port to port to couch to couch.  My life became the neighborhood of the port I was living in.  Occasionally I would drop the obligatory post card or some letter inspired by an emotion that squeezed out of the haze of those times. 

 

Today as I move around my kitchen cooking dinner, replacing a pacifier where it belongs, trying to impart socially acceptable behaviors to my oldest three, loading the dishwasher, yelling at my oldest three, stubbing my toe the phone will ring.  My relationship with Ma Bell has changed dramatically.  Now that I get needs met at home, my work rarely calls, my friends call a few times a week, the phone is hardly ever for me.  This means that when it does shiver out a bell noise I rarely break stride in what I’m doing.  If I’m partially curious to know who is calling I will listen to the answering machine, if by happenstance I’m right next to the phone I might flip it over and glance at the caller id to see who it is.  In the conversational world of Ma Bell I wield self imposed god like powers as I refuse to answer any call from any 1-800#’s nor will I answer any call whose number I don’t recognize.  Upon reflection, perhaps this attitude is reflective of how I have been beaten up by relentless phone peddlers banging away at me to buy ginsu knives, support the Fraternal Order of Police, Vietnam Veterans Association, insurance, mortgages, financial planning or a bridge over land in Florida. 

…no more surprises nor more rude salesman just the people who I want to talk to.  Tell me the caller id wasn’t inspired by god.

circumcision and semi-automatic guns

If there was a secret and easy method to live life and not experience the stress, headaches and other sundry of emotions that the living experience, the keeper of the secret could make a bundle selling it as a manual.  Yes I’m sure a few readers are thinking there is the Bible, Koran, Das Kapitol, Torah and whatever the middle eastern zealots read.  No they are not a good example.  Forget the middle easterns…it appears they are currently not happy and nor do I believe in their history have they ever been too happy.  Well except for when you see them burning American Flags and shooting semi-automatic weapons in the air to celebrate whatever event it is that a group of people gather with semi-automatic guns to celebrate.  What life event would that be exactly?  Is it the protocol for circumcision, loosing a tooth, divorce, marriage, birthday? 

I often experience stress.  Tight shoulders, tight and sore jaw, cranky attitude aimed towards those who I love most.  Thats how I roll.  I hate stress and my negative  for many reasons.  Any moron can figure out why they respond to stress in their own certain way.  Some read the bible, gamble, use drugs and alcohol, meditate and use violence, pray, sex, tv and the gym.  Some do all of the above.  Some do a couple.  Many do none of the above.  Some may talk about how they think and how they feel.  This is generally the last option for me.  I like to generate solutions on my own.  I don’t like the idea of listening to other people and their advice.  It never seems to hit the mark because I rarely express exactly what I think or feel.  It seems I speak in generalities leaving the potential sage/listener/priest/friend without all the info they need to reach me in times of need.

The question is how much would you or I pay for a book that would solve the sundry life problems, thoughts and feelings that can plague the human condition.  My question would be “Do you take credit cards?”

wrasslin’

My boys love to wrestle around.  When you go to watch a boxing match the Official Time Keeper always uses a traditional bell -“DING-DING”- to start and end a round of a match.  We can be out shopping and the intercom in the ceiling “ding-dings” to gather the employee’s attention.  My children freeze in their tracks.  They look like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz stuck in unnatural positions.  Simultaneously their heads pivot on their shoulders to where they are all looking towards one another.  Each pair of eyes sparkle and shimmer with a glint of fiendish delight.  Their shoulder’s go up around their ears, their hands come up to the ready stance and a split second later three boys are stepping towards each other and forming a three ring wrasslin’ match.  They get about a second to pummel each other and I step in with a “hey hey” and a snap of my fingers.  They each back up a step at a time, hands still outstretched ready for any illegal punch, GRINNING like boys who just touched the top of the world.