I like my coffee black (no sugar, no cream, no whiskey ), just black, but I don’t force anyone to drink their coffee as I like it. I like my burger plain (no ketchup, no mustard), just plain, because I believe that if the meat is good and cooked as one likes it, there is no need to cover up the taste of the meat, but I don’t force anyone to eat their meat as I like it.
I don’t know how to tweet and I don’t like to text, but those included in the “new generation” insist on forcing us, the not-too-new-generation, into doing things their way, and I ask why.
How can it be faster to text than to dial the phone and hear a voice at the other end of the line, right? Well, I have a friend who insists on texting me instead of calling me and then when I do not answer the text, she gets upset; and when it takes me ten minutes to answer her back, I get upset. Then we are both upset and the communication becomes an aggravated communication between the two of us.
If there are a great number of people that love to text, why can’t those texters allow one single supposed friend to have his way and allow him to have a real conversation, to talk to each other like normal human beings — after all, is not that how we talk every day?
Now the Eighth Judicial District Court is not emailing any of its press releases any longer; now they send twitter codes on Facebook and blogs and the only thing I know is Facebook IF (that’s a big if) I start from my page and I have the Tribune’s Garcia clan nearby.
While I was writing this column I had the pleasure of receiving a telephone call from my friend, North Las Vegas Police Lieutenant Tim Bedwell, and when I told him what the topic of this column was, I thought he sided with me, but I was shocked when he told me the bad news that if I don’t learn how to text, tweet, blog, and all that jazz, I will be isolated from the entire world.
Well, by Tim Bedwell’s account, I guess it is time for me to retire and go into voluntary exile because I don’t see myself typing on a miniature instrument that — because of the size of my fingers — causes me, most of the time, to end up punching two keys when I was going for just one.
One time an employee of T-Mobile was telling me that she has to send me a text with an attachment, and I explained to the young lady that if I want to text I will buy me a typewriter, not a telephone, and the only “attachment” I was familiar with was the one involving my late uncle, who was a military attachÈ for the Cuban Embassy in Mexico City.
It is not that I am stubborn because I refuse to go along with the program in this electronic era; it is that I don’t want the people to know that I am stupid and antiquated.
And that is the story of my life. I was born way too early and while I was blessed with a lot of opportunities in life, I know that I have missed lots of good things too. The other day I was telling someone an old story and when I mentioned that I was making a telephone call from my car the person — in a sarcastic way — reminded me that years ago not too many people were allowed to have, or could afford, a telephone in the car; well, I had two — not one, but two, and those who knew me back then will not allow me to distort the truth.
I think that the same people who want others to respect their wishes, their habits, and their way of living their life, should respect my old-fashioned ideas and work with me in this modern age without forcing me to text, blog or tweet.
I have friends that drink and if we go to lunch and they order a cocktail, I order coffee or a 7-up, but I don’t tell them not to drink just because I don’t drink; I have a roommate that smokes and I don’t, but I don’t tell her that she has to quit, in fact I even buy her cigarettes once in a while — once in a great while.
My point is that if I can mold myself to others’ bad and good habits, why cannot others adapt to accepting the fact that I don’t text, blog or tweet? I am just asking!!!
You can call me or email me, but do not text me with an emergency because we’ll all have to wait until someone in the office comes in; and let’s pray that my roommate is not out of town when you text and will open the text for me.
My name is Rolando Larraz, and as always, I approved this column.