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I needed a new pair of Ironclad work gloves. That meant a trip to Sears. Always a reason to celebrate. I like Sears. It hasn’t changed much since I was a kid.
Man, I sound old. Chip wanted Media Jean to join us. I had to think about that, because Media Jean asks a lot of questions. The kid has a heart of gold, but she wants to understand everything. I mean EVERYTHING. The other thing about Media Jean, she thinks grown-ups are hilarious. Our logic cracks her up. Talking to her can be a bit deflating. The questions started as soon as she climbed in the car. MEDIA JEAN: Mr. MacMurray, why are you driving to Sears? ME: I need new work gloves. MEDIA JEAN: Can’t you order gloves online? ME: I want them tonight. MEDIA JEAN: It’s almost dinner time. Are you working after dinner? ME: Tomorrow, then. MEDIA JEAN: Why not overnight a pair of gloves from Amazon? ME: I want to try them on first. MEDIA JEAN: Aren’t you getting the same kind of gloves you had before, those Ironman ones? ME: Ironclad. Yup. I like Ironclad. MEDIA JEAN: Don’t you remember what size you wear? ME: Of course. MEDIA JEAN: Then why not save yourself a trip and overnight the gloves from Amazon? ME: I want to try a different color. MEDIA JEAN: What color? ME: Uh, blue? MEDIA JEAN: I love blue! Does Sears have blue Ironman gloves in stock? ME: Ironclad. I don’t know. We’ll see. MEDIA JEAN: Shouldn’t you call first? I’m checking Amazon right now. They have blue in stock. (I had to help Media Jean understand why anyone would drive to Sears rather than surf to Amazon, or we’d never get out of the driveway.) ME: The thing is, I like Sears. I like the way Sears smells. I like walking around Sears. I like messing with the tools. There’s a riding mower on the floor. You can climb up on it, work the gears and everything. MEDIA JEAN: Can you ride it for a quarter? ME: No. But every time I go to Sears, I stop by that mower. I almost buy it, every time I go. I like that. It’s like pretending. For me, Sears is more fun than Amazon. MEDIA JEAN: So... it’s like going to a candy store instead of buying candy online, except you don’t actually buy candy in the store? ME: Exactly! You can see it, touch it, smell it. It’s wonderful. MEDIA JEAN: You’re funny, Mr. MacMurray. ME: You’re a riot too, Media Jean. I glance in the rear view mirror and Chip is smiling up at me, his face shining. The more ridiculous I feel, the more out of sync, the more old-fashioned and just plain old, the more he seems to love me. The more vulnerable I feel, the more love I feel. Go figure. I don’t pretend to understand it. But if that’s the math of the Google Age, I’ll take it. I hope it all adds up in the end. Comments 
Media Jean: I like your dad. 
Chip: Me too.
Media Jean: I wasn’t making fun of him.
Chip: It’s OK. He knows you like him.
Media Jean: I do. But he is funny. How Sears smells!?
Chip: I know.
Media Jean: I kept taking deep breaths, but I didn’t notice any particular smell.
Chip: My dad sure did. Remember how he’d stop every now and then and just breathe like he was standing on top of a mountain?
Media Jean: Maybe a little of every breath you take stays inside you.
Chip: You mean for your whole life?
Media Jean: Yeah. Maybe you keep a whiff of everything you ever smelled.
Chip: I’m not sure I like where this is going.
Media Jean: Hahahaha!
Chip: I know what you’re thinking! That’s gross!
Media Jean: I wonder if your sense of smell gets better as you get older.
Chip: Maybe you can actually smell memories.
Media Jean: If it’s true, we could create a line of perfume based on memories. Like A Whiff of Childhood or A Hint of Nostalgia.
Chip: Or Sears, the Tool Aisle.
Media Jean: Sears perfume! Hahaha! That’s hilarious! Let’s mix up a batch for your dad. We can make one for Johnny, too. Distill the aroma of a dirty dollar bill and call it A Touch of Green. 
Johnny: Make fun of me all you want, but that perfume idea is gold! We need to create new products.
Media Jean: So the lurker finally appears!
Johnny: I wasn’t lurking! I was listening!
Media Jean: Lurker!
Johnny: Well, I have to keep an eye on you idiots! You waste all day tweeting and facebooking and blogging. But when you actually come up with a money-making idea, what do you do? You goof on it! Perfumes that trigger positive memories?! Are you kidding?! That’s the kind of product consumers live for!
Media Jean: ... is he gone?
Chip: Yeah. He logged off the network.
Media Jean: He’s heading to my house, so let’s meet at his house.
Chip: I’ll grab my chemistry set. 
Comic strip from the series "So-Duh"
(Kid, Inc. Volume 1: Look Out, Tomorrow, Here We Come!) Have a thought for Bob? Write to us at [email protected]
I dreamt I was in that Twilight Zone episode, To Serve Man.
The Kanamits, an advanced alien race, arrive on Earth. They’ve come, as the title of their book says, “To serve man.” They share their technology freely. End hunger. Cure disease. Everyone is happy. Except me. In my dream, the hero Michael Chambers mysteriously disappears... and I take his place. I become the skeptical code breaker. The Kanamits are up to something. I can feel it! I don’t trust their technological wonders. If only I could translate their book! Finally, I give up. What can I do? I can’t break the code, and the world is jumping on the Kanamits' bandwagon. Finally, I accept their technology. It’s making our lives better, right? I even agree to visit the Kanamits’ homeworld. As I’m going up the ramp to their spaceship, someone shouts my name. I turn and see Alice holding up the aliens’ book, To Serve Man. I expect her to scream, “It’s a cookbook!” like in the TV show. They’re just fattening us up! We’re on the menu! But no. In my dream, she holds up the book and shouts, “It’s Blogging for Dummies!” That’s when I wake up. I stumble to Chip’s room. He’s at the computer, of course. I tell him my dream. He says, “I have Blogging for Dummies,” and offers me the book. I stare at him a minute. I know I’m beat. I take the book-- And wake up again. Now it’s 2:30 AM and I’m wide awake for real. My face-to-face, hands-on world has been invaded. That’s what the dream was about, wasn’t it? Everyone thinks technology is at our service. Everyone is on the spaceship, my son is the pilot, and here I stand, watching them go. My stomach hurts. Either I’m hungry, or I’m the Charlie Brown of the Google era. Comments
Chip: I don’t know. I just watched To Serve Man online. It really freaked me out. Is this how my dad feels all the time? I need to take him camping or something.
Media Jean: Ask him to help you build something you don’t need. He loves that kind of stuff. Remember that time you asked him to build a tree house?
Chip: Great idea! I’ll ask him to help me build a transistor radio. He had one of those when he was a kid.
Media Jean: Wow, he’s that old? I guess that’ll help him forget all about the Twilight Zone dream. Wish I could say the same. I’m hooked!
Chip: Me, too! Let’s stay up all night and have a Twilight Zone marathon!
Media Jean: My parents won’t let me sleep over on a school night so we’ll have to do it online.
Chip: OK. Funny how parents think if you’re in your room, you’re in your room.
Media Jean: Yeah. Maybe that comes from growing up in a world where everything was in a box. Like transistor radios.
Chip: I’m glad we’re growing up today, not yesterday.
Media Jean: You said it. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, that’s my motto.
Have a thought for Bob? Write to us at [email protected]
Chip says a lot of poetry is written online these days. A lot of Twitter haiku. Twikiu, for goodness’s sake.
Last night, as I was tucking him in, he held out his cell phone and said, “Write a poem, dad.” Instead, I cracked open my new copy of Walden, turned to Chapter 2, and read: “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…” Chip was asleep in seconds. Sigh. I’m sticking with my Underwood typewriter. It was good enough for Faulkner, Hemingway, Kerouac and the great E.B. White, it’s good enough for me. Most of the best words in human history were written manually. All those chisels and brushes and pens and typewriters. And you know what? A manual typewriter just feels better. When I tap a key, I feel that satisfying punch (CLACK!) of metal on paper. I like feeling the impact of each letter. Every now and then, I roll out a freshly typed page, turn it over, close my eyes, and run my fingers over those faint and sometimes spiky impressions. Bob’s Braille. Who needs a laptop, word processor or spell check? I got my Underwood, white out, and a dictionary. I’m all set. Comments
Media Jean: What’s white out?
Chip: The label says “Liquid Paper.” Dad uses it to paint over his typos. After it dries, he retypes. It’s sort of like Undo for his generation.
Media Jean: That’s even more work than erasing! Why not just use a pencil? Your dad cracks me up! But the Braille thing sounds pretty cool.
Chip: Yeah, it does feel like Braille. But I like binary better. It’s like seeing the DNA of your thoughts. Try it!
Media Jean: I found a binary-to-text converter online. Here’s “Walden”: 010101110110000101101100011001000110010101101110
Chip: I should make a T-shirt of that for my dad.
Johnny: Would you time-wasters get back to work?!
Media Jean: Hey, Johnny: 01100111 01101111 00100000 01110011 01101111 01100001 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01101000 01100101 01100001 01100100
Johnny: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get back to work! 
HComic strip from the series "Bob's Blog"
(Kid, Inc. Volume 1: Look Out, Tomorrow, Here We Come!) ave a thought for Bob? Write to us at [email protected] |
AuthorHey, I'm Bob, and I hate technology. So why am I blogging? Because I love my son. He upgraded my typewriter to wirelessly post every keystroke online. It makes him happy, so here I am. Archives
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