Living Proof

As you can see from the photo above, our dining room table has become somewhat of a non-communicative place where we eat breakfast, check our email, networking sites, read the paper and then say goodbye for the day. I’m not sure if it was in fact a good idea to get Madelene her own computer, but at least she’s getting more acquainted with current up to date news and other misc. junk from whatever sources she looks up. She has never really had her own computer - she used mine since she rarely gets on the net. Now that her work involves a bit more computer work, I told her it was important that she gets familiar with the internet to better assist her clientele with more information. We have set down a few rules regarding our life vs. the internet life: 1. When we go to bed, the BlackBerries are turned off. There are no ifs ands or buts about it. They’re off for the entire night. If there is an emergency, then call our landline. 2. Our days off are just that: no internet, other th...

If my mom had a computer, I’m sure she would be the nosiest person on Facbeook. She’d be emailing one of my sisters or myself with information regarding someone’s photo or asking questions about ‘you know who’. God only knows who would be the ‘you know who’ list. She’d insist I was having a hot affair with one of my male friends, just because I gave him a “hug” on his birthday. “Well you just don’t do that, it’s not appropriate.” And that’s that. She’d be on top of my statuses, letting everyone know what I’m doing at what particular time. ..and so on. My questions were answered when I wondered about if she would ever consider Twitter to be on her list of things to do, if she had a computer of her own. The other night I went to my sister Dawn’s house while my parents were there. While we were sitting around the table talking, my mom casually scoots over and asks me in all seriousness: “What’s this tittles I hear about?” “What?” “Tittles. Everybody’s talking about it. You ...

It’s absolutely amazing how Facebook has brought old friends or even just old acquaintances back into communication again. Those who knew me well when I was a child also knew my family while growing up.  After yesterday’s post, a close old friend had written me an email asking me how my father reacted when he found out I that I was a lesbian. My father is your typical ‘old school’ Brooklynite, who smokes four packs of Camel’s non-filtered cigarettes and could put away three pots of coffee in one sitting.  I remember hearing ‘cling-cling-cling-cling-cling-cling-cling-cling’, from his spoon swirling around in his cup a million and one times. He would stir the coffee so much that I felt like screaming, “It’s mixed already, dammit!” As you approached him, there was a thick layer of gray smoke surrounding him. Even if he wasn’t smoking, the remains of the cigarette clouds would linger for hours. The ‘stop, drop and roll’ technique never worked so well. We had to talk to him with ga...