Dear Senior Citizen, Welcome to the exciting world of Zoom. If you’ve never had a Zoom video call, don’t worry. It’s easier than beating Betty Smith at BINGO, even when she plays with 10 boards.
Welcome to today’s lesson: Zoom for Seniors. If you’re 65+ and would like to learn how to turn your computer into a videophone, this will be an exciting adventure. However, if you thought you had signed up for Zoomba for Seniors, you’re in the wrong class. And it’s spelled Zumba. You might want to consider our Spelling for Seniors class, as well.
What exactly is Zoom? If you ask my 24-year-old tech-savvy daughter, she’ll tell you it’s a video-telephony and online chat service using a cloud-based peer-to-peer software platform for teleconferencing, telecommuting and social relations. My daughter is a geek. In case her explanation is a tad too technical, let me simplify: with Zoom, you can see and talk to your friends on your computer.
Everybody’s doing Zoom, even Zumba fans. This is thanks in large part to the Coronavirus pandemic and the subsequent shelter in place mandates. If you’re not familiar with the “Coronavirus,” may I suggest our introductory lecture series, What’s Been Happening Since You Crawled Under a Rock. Employers use Zoom to conduct team meetings, professors to deliver classes to their students, and the rest of us to complain to our friends that there’s nothing to do – all without wearing pants.
Zoom is surprisingly easy to use. Let’s first talk about system requirements. I’m not talking about your digestive system, though you could talk to your doctor via Zoom about your acid reflux. I’m talking about required devices: a smart phone, an iPad, or a computer with a web cam. No, a web cam is not for detecting spiders in your house, though I can envision a market for that. A common question I hear from seniors is, “How do I attach my rotary phone’s twisty cord to my Zenith TV’s rabbit ears?”
I now realize there should be some pre-requisites for this course, such as a rudimentary knowledge of life and technology in the 21st century. In short, no, you can’t use a rotary phone. You need one that can connect to the Internet. If you’re unfamiliar with the term “Internet,” how exactly did you find the website for this class?
If you are still using a phone like this and planning to place a Zoom call, let me just say, you’re adorable. However, may I suggest upgrading to a phone that was not in use when Ozzie and Harriet were still the rage on TV.
Next, you will need a Zoom meeting invitation. Anticipating your next question, no, it won’t be delivered by the USPS or UPS or even the USPCA. It will come in an email. The invite will give you a link that you simply click on to join the video call at the appointed time.
What’s so great about Zoom? For starters, you can actually see the person you’re talking to! And the call is free – even if the other person is across the country, across the world, or in your garage, borrowing your power tools without asking. That’s because you are talking over the Internet. I know, it’s almost as amazing as theRonco Pocket Fisherman you bought your wife for her birthday in 1984.
Another cool aspect is that several people can be on the call at the same time! So if you and your Elks cronies – all 67 of them – want to have a virtual hangout, you can with Zoom. That is, assuming you all have email and a Wi-Fi or broadband connection. Clueless about the terms “Wi-Fi” and “broadband”? Might I suggest you switch to a bird watching class instead?
Zoom has some handy features including “chat,” which lets you type messages to other people on the call. But remember when you type a chat message to Charlie about how Archie cheats at golf, Archie will be able to read your message, too – unless he left his glasses in your garage when he borrowed your power tools.
Some pointers about using Zoom. First, you want to adjust your camera so the other person can see you. As interesting as your ceiling may be – or your boxer shorts – most people prefer looking at your face – and by your face, I mean your entire face, not the top of your receding hairline.
Second, be sure the microphones are ON, unless you all are versed in lip-reading.
Third, know how and when to turn OFF your video. Just as you can see your grandkids or your buddies or your boss on Zoom, they too can see you. So, if you feel the need to pick your nose or get up to grab a beer, wearing nothing below the waist but a pair of black socks and Crocs, consider pausing the video first.
Which brings me to Zoom etiquette. Newbies tend to talk over each other, especially if there are a bunch of you on the call. It’s best to wait until the other person has stopped talking before you begin your diatribe on the demise of the nation at the hands of our youth (your grandkids excepted). Also, you might want to shave. The grunge look doesn’t work for seniors.
For the adventurous Senior, try a group Zoom call. Together you can discuss fascinating topics like, “Anyone having trouble with their dentures?” and “Whatever happened to Carl? He was here a minute ago.”
Don’t worry if your first Zoom experience is a bit bumpy. That’s normal. It’s daunting to figure out any new technology, like Zoom or a plasma TV or your 10 ft. inflatable snow globe. That’s why I recommend recruiting your seven-year-old grandson. He can ensure your maiden voyage goes smoothly, helping you log into the session, testing your audio, and reminding you to put on pants.
Finally, just remember, if you’re struggling to navigate a Zoom call with your old pal Benny, you’re not alone. He’s every bit the technology rookie that you are. Benny too is confused why he can’t hear you and wondering whose forehead he’s seeing on his computer screen (um, that would actually be Benny’s). He’ll get the hang of it, and you will too – before the next century, or your money back.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Likeor sharing this post on Facebook.
When I was first learning how to color in 1st grade, my art teacher taught us about red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black and white. Pretty much all the colors I’ve needed ever since. Then I got my first box of 64 Crayola crayons. It blew my mind. So many colors I had never imagined. One called Reddish Orange. Another one called Orangish Red. And Indian Red, which I could not in clear conscience draw with until they renamed it Native American Red.
Recently I learned that Crayola has actually retired 34 colors – including Lemon Yellow, Teal Blue and Thistle. Did you know that for the rest of eternity there will never be anything drawn in either Burnt Umber or Magic Mint? And yet for reasons unfathomable to the normal brain, they continue to crank out that annoyingly wimpy color, Periwinkle.
They’ve replaced the retired colors with nouveau-sounding ones like Asparagus, Bittersweet, Inch Worm and Tumbleweed. What the hell color is Inch Worm?
It’s hard enough for my 8-color-palette brain to grasp the difference between Sage and Mint. More astonishingly, for all the colors in Crayola’s 64-color box, I’ve discovered there are literally hundreds of shades of white. When did that happen?
My artist wife and I were discussing what color to paint her art studio. Apparently, it’s important that artist studios be painted in neutral tones like white – I have no idea why. I had suggested Bubble Gum Pink, but apparently that’s not quite neutral enough pour ma femme artiste. No, she insisted, it had to be a shade of white. A shade of white? Hmmm….
The most important thing you can do to stay safe from Covid-19 is wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water. Don’t forget to do under your fingernails. You’ll know you’re done when your hands start to bleed.
I come bearing good news: According to Harvard scientists (and Harvard scientists are never wrong), the Coronavirus pandemic should largely subside by the end of next year, or possibly early 2022. Plus, a 63% effective vaccine is less than 18 months away.
Okay, maybe not so good news. But on the positive side, the Seattle Mariners will likely finally end 15 consecutive losing seasons since Major League Baseball plans to cancel the current season.
The Coronavirus is affecting our lives in countless ways. Schools are cancelled, people are working from home, and “My Corona” is the #1 song on the pop charts.
If you’re like most of us, you’re probably anxious about proper Social Distancing in the midst of this plague – unless you’re a complete idiot – or the Governor of Georgia (but I repeat myself). Exactly how far apart should people be? Six feet? Ten? My daughter says it’s roughly the distance I can throw a baseball, so 15 feet. Some experts recommend at least one zip code of separation, just to be on the safe side, and wearing an extra layer of bubble wrap whenever you leave the house.
Then there’s the mandate to wear a mask. But where? At the grocery store? Walking your cat around the block? What about in your backyard? Or while doing yoga in your bedroom, naked? And what constitutes an adequate mask, or for that matter, “naked?”
Let me ease your mind. Nobody is telling you to shelter in place 24/7 (with the exception of mayors, governors, and those annoying Harvard scientists). You needn’t be sequestered in your man cave for the next six months, binging on The Real Housewives of New Jersey (although, I must admit, Season 3 exceeded my expectations). Furthermore, you’re free to wear a bandana, dark glasses, and a hoodie when out in public (just use caution when entering a bank). And for God’s sake: DON’T TOUCH YOUR FACE! (Admit it. You just scratched your nose, didn’t you? You’re hopeless.)
When shopping, only buy the absolutely necessities – like 12 cases of Nutella. If someone has nabbed them first, don your surgical gloves, shove that shopper to the ground, grab the jars, and run. Piece of cake (that’s in aisle 3).
I offer you a solution to this madness. Simply do what I do: Wash and Wipe.
The Coronavirus germ can hang around for an exhaustingly long time, perhaps even weeks – much like my freeloading brother-in-law, Ralph.
You can try to wait out the contagion, scarfing down tubs of Chunky Monkey, slowly giving up on all your hopes and dreams. Or you can neutralize that pesky peril by washing and wiping.
The general rule of thumb is this: Wash your hands any time you touch something potentially infectious, like a shopping cart or a doorknob or a tiger. (Dobermans, however, are perfectly safe.) Better yet, wipe down the shopping cart, doorknob, and tiger before you touch them.
Let me explain how this works. Imagine it’s time for your monthly Costco run. You decide it would be fun to take the kids, but you’re running late for the special early bird Senior shopping hours. So instead of giving 6-year-old Sarah and 4-year-old Tony their baths, you teach them how to sponge themselves with Lysol wipes.
Everyone is buckled in when you realize you forgot to wash the seats. You improvise by spraying the interior with the garden hose, explaining to your giggling cherubs that it’s raining inside. You arrive at Costco and find the parking lot already swarming with vehicles beating you to an open space and your chance of getting the last remaining toilet paper just got flushed down the toilet. So, you hunt for a spot in the overflow area four football fields away. Sarah jumps out and climbs into a shopping cart, dragging Tony in after. “STOP!” you scream, but it’s too late. You take one of the fourteen jars of sanitizing wipes you keep in the trunk and wash the urchins and the entire cart.
Inside this mega-store, Sarah plays fetch with Tony, throwing him boxes of Cocoa Puffs and paper towels and everything else she can get her hands on. You intercept the paper towels, praising Sarah for the good find, and you load up with enough peanut butter, cereal, paper towels, dental floss, and Purell to last through the next nuclear winter.
Back at Scooby Doo lot N, you finally locate your car and immediately start wiping down the bags, as well as the kids, before piling all into the car. You use another jar of towelettes to disinfectant the steering wheel, dashboard, and every surface your hooligans touched while fighting in the back seat.
Finally home, you send S & T to wash their mitts raw. You unload the groceries, including the 60” flat screen TV you bought on impulse (your wife will eventually forgive you) and restock the pantry. Mission accomplished? Um, not quite. Ask yourself: Who else might have pawed these containers of peanut butter, cereal, and dental floss? Perhaps a band of Coronavirus-positive terrorists infiltrated Costco and spat on everything – and now, their infected germs are in your house.
What’s more, all the tainted groceries are nestled in with other items in your cupboards. Breathing deeply, you remove every bag and box, and the shelves and cabinet doors, and give them all a meticulous scrub. Don’t forget the counter. I bet you grabbed the wipes after you touched the contaminated stuff. Rooky mistake. Use another wipe to clean the wipes.
This man is risking serious infection. Oh, no, not from holding the TV remote. He’s watching one of Trump’s daily press briefings. Highly toxic. Be safe and turn off your TV whenever the President is talking.
Remember how you told Sarah and Tony to wash their hands until they bled? Were you aware they first played hide ‘n seek? Since it’s impossible to know precisely which chairs, tables, and pets they touched, waste no time in cordoning off those rooms and animals before further harm is done.
To be prudent, I recommend setting a controlled blaze to the affected rooms and rebuilding that wing of the house using state-of-the-art sterile hospital cleanroom construction materials. Or perhaps just sell your home now before the market tanks.
Finally, wash your hands every 30 minutes. A timer will help. (You can scale back to once an hour during your REM sleep cycle.)
That’s it. Easy-peasy. Follow these simple steps and you’ll sleep rest easy, assuming you remembered to wipe down your phone, remote, keyboard, gerbil, outlets, and well, you get the idea. You’ll be fine. Just DON’T TOUCH YOUR FACE!
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Likeor sharing this post on Facebook.
In an exclusive VFTB interview, Mother Nature reveals that her job has never been easier, thanks to the Coronavirus. “Nature and wildlife are thriving. The only ones complaining are humans,” she said. “They can be such whiners.”
The following are excerpts from an exclusive interview with celebrated environmentalist, Mother Nature.
View from the Bleachers: Thank you for agreeing to meet today, Mother Nature. I’m sure you’re tremendously busy.
Mother Nature: Just call me Mama N. I’m pretty informal.
VFTB: Okay, um, Mama N.
Mother Nature: I just finished dropping a blizzard on Newfoundland. Then it’s back to work repairing the Great Barrier Reef. Which reminds me, What did the ocean say to the beach?
VFTB: Um, I have no idea. What did the ocean say to the beach?
Mother Nature: Nothing. It just waved. Get it? A dolphin told me that one. They’re hilarious.
VFTB: I did not know that. Mother Nature, I mean Mama N, I understand the past century has been a notably challenging period for you. Is that true?
Mother Nature: Totally. It’s been my worst century since the last Ice Age – and that was 12,000 years ago. Not a fun epoch, especially if you were a crocodile. The last hundred years have been particularly brutal for all my flora and fauna, what with global warming, widespread floods, droughts and raging forest fires.
Mind you, none of this mayhem was my idea. Sure, I might stir up an occasional hurricane just to make a point. But nothing like what you humans have achieved since the invention of the automobile. Who knew those contraptions would multiply like rabbits! They’re everywhere! And factories – don’t get me started.
VFTB: It must be a hard job protecting our planet.
Mother Nature: Well, the hardest part is protecting it from your lot: mankind. That was not in the job description. Still, it’s been a good gig – up to the last century. Actually, ever since the Industrial Revolution, I can’t seem to catch a break.
VFTB: Sounds exhausting.
Mother Nature: You’re telling me. Until lately, that is.
VFTB: Oh? Has something changed?
Mother Nature: Absolutely. In the past month, it’s like I’m on vacation. Fog and smog are clearing. In northern India you can see the Himalayas for the first time in over 30 years.
VFTB: Incredible. Why do you think that is?
Mother Nature: Isn’t it obvious? It’s the Coronavirus. It’s got everybody shuttered indoors. Nobody’s going anywhere. Which means cars are off the road, planes are grounded, factories have slowed production. We can breathe again!
VFTB: Have you been following the news and social media about social distancing?
Mother Nature: Not really. I don’t have cable and I’m not on Facebook. What I do know is that this pandemic has been the best thing to happen to my planet since they took the Giant Panda off the Endangered Species List.
VFTB: So, you think the Coronavirus is a GOOD thing?
Mother Nature points out that thanks to the wonderful news about the Coronavirus, goats are now roaming around this town in Wales, where they’ve not been seen in ages. “Primroses are quite tasty,” say the goats.
Mother Nature: Let’s say it’s been a blessing in disguise! Ask any animal, with the possible exception of Homo sapiens – it’s like paradise now! The only critter at risk of extinction lately is roadkill!
VFTB: But aren’t you worried about the hundreds of thousands of people getting sick day after day?
Mother Nature: I hear President Trump has that all under control. As for me, I have plenty on my plate taking care of the polar bears, platypuses, and tigers. Speaking of tigers, who the heck is this Tiger King? He sounds seriously messed up.
VFTB: Yeah, he’s a bit of an odd duck.
Mother Nature: Oh, so he’s a duck? I never knew a duck that hung with tigers. He sounds like a quack! Ha! Ha! Get it?
VFTB: You could say that. But seriously, aren’t you concerned about everything that’s happening all over the world right now?
Mother Nature: Look around you. Everything is great. Air, water, even noise pollution are way down. In fact, did you know that Los Angeles has the cleanest air of any major American city at the moment?
VFTB: No way!
Mother Nature: Way! All because people are staying home. I heard tell that peacocks are strolling through the streets of Mumbai for the first time in like forever now that nobody’s driving. So, yeah, I’m pretty stoked. If we keep going at the current trend, global warming will be solved by Labor Day. Pretty awesome, eh?
VFTB: Well, that’s encouraging. But I haven’t left my house in a month.
Mother Nature: And now the animals are looking in at the humans trapped in their cages. Kind of ironic, don’t you think? Meanwhile, I get to catch my breath and kick off my heels –
VFTB: You wear heels?
Mother Nature: More like Birkenstocks. Anyway, it’s nice to see my beloved planet making a remarkable comeback. Just the other day, a family of beavers told me their stream is the clearest they’ve ever seen it. And you should check out Venice. It’s become so clean you can almost drink out of the canals. But don’t. I’m not a miracle worker.
VFTB: Do you have any advice for the humans at this critical time?
With an empty Brazilian beach (due to the Coronavirus), newly hatched sea turtles are making a comeback. Just one of the many things to be thankful for while you’re stuck indoors binge-watching old episodes of Game of Thrones.
Mother Nature: For starters, enough with all the annoying Coronavirus song parodies. They’re really getting repetitive. I know, “wash your hands” and “social distance”. Blah, blah, blah.
VFTB: I thought you said you don’t do Facebook.
Mother Nature: I lied. Second, what’s with your addiction to fossil fuels? Now that you folks have discovered walking, maybe you can make a habit of it. It might help you lose that spare tire. And what’s with your obsession with red meat? All those cow farts create an insane amount of methane, which is heating up the atmosphere. Try a carrot for a change. It won’t kill you, I promise.
VFTB: Thank you, Mama N. I hope you get to enjoy a little more time off.
Mother Nature: From the looks of how your federal government is handling the Coronavirus pandemic, I think it’s going to stick around for a while. So, all my lakes and streams and critters want to send a big THANK YOU shout out. Hey, I’ve got to go. There is a hailstorm in Manitoba I need to check on. Never a dull moment. Later.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Likeor sharing this post on Facebook.
I sent out press releases and then did a quick online search to see whether any of my promotional activities were paying off. So, I googled my name – TIM JONES. Uh oh. The results were rather surprising.
On the positive side, I found several search results about the book and recent VFTB articles I’d written. But that’s not all I discovered. Turns out I’ve lived a far more interesting and varied life than I’d ever realized. And I have a dark side. A disturbingly dark side.
Apparently, despite what my kids have been saying about me for the past ten years, I am “highly intelligent.”So intelligent, in fact, that I earned a Ph.D. and joined the ranks of the faculty at Cardiff University in Wales.According to my profile in the Faculty Directory, my interests include “airborne particulate pollution” and “remote sensing in resource exploitation.” I have no idea what any of this means. I must have been drunk when I wrote my faculty profile. Had you asked me before today what my interests are, I would have listed football, sleeping and bacon.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Until about twenty minutes ago, I thought I was a decent person, a loving father and all in all, a fairly responsible citizen. But I am starting to have my doubts. You see, I recently published a humor book on parenting called 
So intelligent, in fact, that I earned a Ph.D. and joined the ranks of the faculty at Cardiff University in Wales.
According to my profile in the Faculty Directory, my interests include “airborne particulate pollution” and “remote sensing in resource exploitation.” I have no idea what any of this means. I must have been drunk when I wrote my faculty profile. Had you asked me before today what my interests are, I would have listed football, sleeping and bacon.
