Okay, Zoomer

When I saw Captain Kirk on Star Trek speaking to people on a video screen, I thought it was cool, but I never thought I’d ever do it myself.

We’ll have to add that one to ever-growing list of things I was wrong about because Zoom, the online video service, has been a lifesaver for me during this Covid-19 house arrest.

Last week, I used Zoom to reunite with some old writing class buddies I had not seen in years.

Obviously, it would have been better to have seen them in the flesh, but I’m extremely grateful to connect with these wonderful people any way I can.

And I’ll be using that very same technology this week when I resume (reZoom?) my current writing class.

Of course, the tech door swings both ways and there have been a number of video chat disasters.

Like the woman who went to the bathroom during an online video conference call, and, well, you figure out the rest for yourself.

There was the TV anchor who diligently relayed the news of the day from home, unaware that his cat was on a ledge behind him cleansing itself in a most alarming way.

And let's not forget the Spanish TV reporter who was caught cheating on his girlfriend when a half-naked woman walked through his video call.

Finally, there was the reporter who appeared on camera in a dress shirt and jacket, but who, upon shifting slightly, revealed to the world that he was wearing no pants and was promptly roasted on Twitter.

I can’t help but wonder why people are missing the most basic element of video chatting—the video. That means we can see you, people. And your cat.

I’m a baby boomer, I’m supposed to be clueless about technology. What’s your excuse?

I had a tech-related flashback last week, going back to high school again, only this one involves the ancient art of film photography.

For most of my high school years we all pretty much dressed like bums: denim pants, sneakers, t-shirts—all the stuff that would’ve given my Catholic grade school nuns a stroke, as they demanded we all wear uniforms or burn forever in Hell.

Strike the Pose

But on one day in 1975, all the seniors came to class in suits and ties to pose for the yearbook photo. (I’m not posting mine, so don’t even think about asking.)

We all felt weird and decidedly uncool, and we couldn’t wait for the day to end.

And then Rich, one of my classmates, came walking through the door.

I guess you could call Rich a slacker, even though the word didn’t exist back then.

He always sat in the back of the class and devotedly did as little work as possible. Rich had a quick wit, but he wasn’t a trouble maker or a bully.

He just had his own way of doing things.

Rich was the last person in God’s earth you’d ever expect to see in a suit. And he on this day he didn’t disappoint.

Yes, Rich was wearing a suit jacket, dress shirt, and tie, just like the rest of us.

But instead of a matching pair of dress pants and shoes, Rich was wearing the raunchiest jeans and sneakers I had ever seen in my life.

The blue jeans were so worn they were nearly white and the sneakers looked like they were held together with spit and good intentions.

The entire class did a collective double-take at this guy who liked Dr. Frankenstein’s midnight fashion experiment.

And then we all laughed, realizing that Rich was the only one of us who had figured out what he needed to do to satisfy the photographer and not one bit more.

He looked kind of strange, but at least he was wearing pants.

Today high school students, who cannot attend proms or real-world graduation ceremonies, are creating yearbook accounts on Instagram to preserve at least some of the old traditions.

I admire their spirit and creativity and I wish them all the best for the future.

Just be careful when you pose for that photo.