Making the List…Checking it Twice
The Source
I miss the days when mom and dad would say, “Well, have you made your Christmas list?” I always thought this was a particularly dangerous thing to do, giving carte blanche to a little heathen who knows nothing about the family’s economics or their desire to have a pony in the laundry room. But mom did it as I suspect yours did as well. So since no one asks me about my Christmas list, I’ll make one anyway. If I’m on your Christmas-buying schedule please take note. And note further that I know no more about economics than I did in first grade. First item on my list: a Cat Filter. It’s all I can do to tolerate cats when they’re live and in adorable real life, but I’m talking specifically about Facebook. Is it a law that every cat owner in the world has to post pictures of his or her particular pussycat? Are there actually people out there who want to see pictures of other people’s cats? Oh, there probably are, and I don’t want to offend them. To me a cat looks like a rat that’s grown mold, but there are no doubt cat fanciers who turn on their computer each morning and not able to take a breath without getting their daily cat fix. That’s why I want a filter. If we can “fix” cats, then surely there’s a way to “nix” them. Is there an app for that? And while we’re speaking technologically, how about a Cell Shocker? It’d be a simple device on the dash board of my car that would send a teeth-rattling zap of electricity to the guy coming at me, his tires squarely on the center line and his attention firmly on his cell phone. One push of my Cell Shocker and the current would leap out from under my hood and zap his cell phone. I’d settle for any amount of current just short of cardiac arrest. . .anything to say, “Hey, you idiot! The politicians don’t have the nerve to ban driving while phoning, but my Cell Shocker isn’t running for office!” I’d use my handy little CS on the lady parked ahead of me at the red light who sits there and texts while the light turns green, and the teenager who rides my bumper while chatting on her cell phone, not realizing that we’re both within seconds of sudden death when I slam on my brakes for a Morgan County Bambi. I’d also like an Instant Lotto. No, I don’t want to win the thing. Millionaires don’t seem all that happy and I’ve never bought a lottery ticket. I’m talking about a simple kiosk where all lottery tickets are purchased instead of the line of people at the convenience store checkout lane buying tickets, checking tickets, buying one of each ticket, paying for tickets out of separate purses, then rechecking last week’s numbers while I’m trying to simply pay for my gas and get on the road. Babies could be born in some of these lottery lines and the women would not have been pregnant when they entered the store. And if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d like a remote volume control. When I ask someone to eat out I truly do it because 1) I’m hungry, and 2) I’d like to talk to my guest. Nowhere on this list of requirements is “#3, I want to listen to the restaurant’s amplified music.” Do I bore the waiters enough that they must have high volume muzak thumping through my salad and rumbling my steak off the platter? Here’s the deal…I eat out because of the social atmosphere. I can cook well. I have a Schwan’s man. I’m going to your restaurant to eat and chat a bit. So if Santa could toss a remote volume control into his sack I’d wish him a Merry Christmas…and I promise to not sing it. I used to think certain inventions were impossible, but I’m constantly astounded at what gimmicks and gizmos have been invented in the last ten years, so I’ll dream big for a moment and ask for a Time Stretcher. It’d be a handheld device that take a look at my monthly calendar and somehow stretch the minutes, flex the hours, and elongate the days. Finally, perhaps a few gifts for all of us… About six more retail stores on the Jacksonville Square, a new manufacturing plant discovering Jacksonville and hiring about 400 people, more events that bring the two sides of the town together, a Sunday when the churches are packed, and a Starbucks in the old Mound Cone Shop. I think my first Christmas list was topped off with a Fanner Fifty, a toy six-shooter. I got it. I’m not much smarter than I was at age five, but at least my lists have become more reasonable.