Personal essays
When pointing is not enough
Captain Jack
During some holiday break in college - it might have been Thanksgiving, it might have been spring break - a few of us stayed on campus.
John had always wanted to do a radio show but he was a little nervous.
But over the break a lot of people weren’t there and several shifts were available so we arranged for him to do a midnight show on Sunday night after my show ended.
He got to the station early and started organizing the songs he wanted to play.
Every now and then he’d step out to take another drink - did I mention he was nervous?
He came into the studio before my final break and cued up his first song, Billy Joel’s “Captain Jack.”
At midnight my final song was coming to an end and John sat in the chair in front of the board and turned on the microphone and began to talk.
He was great.
He was funny. He had a great voice with a heavy Rhode Island accent.
He finished what he had to say, turned off his microphone, and turned and pointed at his first song.
Nothing happened.
He looked confused.
I was standing behind him and moved up and pushed the start button on the turntable and his song began.
In the room it felt like several minutes of silence - listeners heard less than five seconds of dead air.
This was 1978. Now, you probably could point at your music source and it would begin playing. Heck, you can say “Hey Siri (or Alexa, or …), play Billy Joel’s ‘Captain Jack’,” and it would.
We’ve come to expect devices that know what we mean.
Audio Books
I listen to a lot of audio books.
I set the timer to stop at the end of the chapter or in thirty minutes as I usually listen in bed and if I fall asleep I can easily find my place the next day.
Some people feel strongly that they can’t say they read a book that they listened to. I honestly don’t care. I consumed a book - if I read it or listened to it I’m not sure I care to make the distinction.
The reaction might be to those who watched the movie rather than read the book.
Maybe they’re right. When you read a book, the authors voice in your head is your own. When you listen, the author’s voice is that of the narrator.
To me, Nero Wolfe stories are told in Michael Prichard’s voice and Jeeves and Wooster use the voice of Jonathan Cecil. Some books, mostly non-fiction, are read by the author.
So even though I don’t care, I tend to say “I listened to…” rather than “I read…” to keep from annoying people who care.
“Daniel,” you say, “what does this have to do with drunk John pointing at ‘Captain Jack’?”
Believe it or not, I’m getting there.
Mom
My mother is 91 years old.
She reads all the time. That’s not new. She’d been a big reader all of my life.
She reads physical books, but she also reads a lot of books in the Kindle app on her iPad Mini.
She takes the books out of the library using the Libby app and reads them on her iPad.
Did I mention she’s 91?
I recently updated her iPad to one that didn’t have the home button. Learning to navigate without the home button was challenging for me when I first made the change but she seems to be doing fine. At 91.
Anyway, the other day she sent a group email to say that she’d had a silly accident and damaged her eye and would not be able to read for a few days.
I told her that she could use Libby to take out audio books and just listen to them.
She thought that was a good idea and said she would try.
Tech Support
Early the next morning she texted to say that she couldn’t hear the book. She didn’t know what button to push.
I replied that the volume buttons were on the top of her iPad to the left of the power button.
She said she’d pushed each one separately and both together and still couldn’t hear.
“That can’t be true”, I answered.
“It is,” she wrote.
I had a theory.
“Call me,” I said.
She called me and I asked her, “what do you see on the screen?”
“I see the first page of the book,” she said.
Oh.
She had downloaded the text version of the book not the audio version.
But looking at it from her point of view, why shouldn’t a digital book also be able to read itself to her. When she had said she didn’t know what button to push, she was looking for the play button that would start the audio.
And when there was no play button she assumed it would just start automatically.
Like drunk John and “Captain Jack.”
Exactly.
I told her she needed to download an audio book and talked her through how to filter to see them in her search results.
She did and texted me later that day to say she was enjoying her book.
Ahhh - maybe that’s the phrase I was looking for. Enjoying the book - it doesn’t matter if you’re reading or listening.
Sometimes you can’t read and you need to find another way.
Did I mention - she’s 91 years old.
Essay from Dim Sum Thinking Newsletter 245. Read the rest of the Newsletter or subscribe