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My wife, Apple and her virtual dog

Way back before smart phones and Siri, only an operator could help you make a long distance phone call. You dialed zero and actually talked to a live human being. In Mayberry, her name was Sarah.

There were no Apples, except the kind you ate. Same goes for Blackberries. Our dial phone was made by Western Electric. And, like T-Model Fords, they came in any color you’d like, as long as they were black.

Nothing ever went wrong with them, either. So there was no such thing as the “Western Electric Store.” But a lot of things can go wrong with Apple iPhones. And do. Hence the need for the Apple Store, where people from eight to 80 go to await their turn for a seat at The Genius Bar. The eight-year-olds get it. But some 80-year-olds don’t know their IOS from a hole in the ground.

My wife and I were in the Apple Store the other day because her dog wasn’t barking. Not a real dog mind you, but her virtual dog; the one that barks to signal she has a voice mail message. I told her if she would answer her phone to start with, she wouldn’t have to worry about voice mails.

My comment went over like a lead balloon. With my virtual tail between my legs, I waddled off to my virtual doghouse. Later, over food and water (and wine), I apologized. I started to tell her that her dog might be barking up the wrong tree, but didn’t want to push my luck.

I’m glad we didn’t have smart phones and virtual dogs when I was growing up. Or computers. Or iPads. Or video games. Facetime then was not chatting with someone on an iPhone. It was talking face to face — in person.

When my parents took us out to dinner (which wasn’t very often) our focus was on each other, not on our Facebook “friends.” Not having social media gave us time to develop social skills.

I do wish we’d had a garage back then, though. Why? Because great things such as Apple, Amazon and Google were invented in garages. But all we had was a carport. And nothing great was ever invented in a carport.

That’s my excuse. And I’m sticking to it.

— Raymond Reid

Raymond Reid is a national-award winning humor columnist from Kernersville, NC. He can be contacted at rreid7@triad.rr.com.

Reflections of Erma