The Sony Walkman: No Hidden Costs

Garv likes to listen to music while puttering in the garage, weeding the gardens and especially on weekend mornings, sitting on the patio sipping tea and devouring newsprint. So, for his birthday present I wanted to give him one of those wireless speakers that release such sublime acoustics it sounds like you are in front of live musicians.

I began my research. Which brand would be best? Is the speaker completely wireless with a rechargeable battery and optional power cord? Which devices will it pair with: tablet, phone, computer, TV? Will he use his own music library or stream?  I didn’t want to spend the time to weigh the pros and cons of all the variables so I asked my kids if they would figure it all out.

“Will you just pick out the speaker, set it up and figure out the best music option?” I asked in my most pleasant mom voice.  They both looked at me as if I asked them to fold my laundry and put it away for me.

“Seriously mom?” asked my son. “You train people how to use computers. You can figure this out. It’s not difficult.”

“Yeah mom,” my daughter added, “you just pair the speaker and stream the music from dad’s phone or tablet.”

Request denied and I realized two things. First, my children will obviously not be coddling me in my old age. And second I knew I would have to choose, buy and setup the speaker on my own. Ok, fine!

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Snowplow Tao

I don’t know why exactly, possibly driven by the caffeine from the espresso or maybe the loveliness of fresh morning air, but as soon as we turned into our driveway I inexplicably wanted to return and lend a hand. I got out of the car, grabbed a couple of paint brushes and got behind the steering wheel. As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw Garv standing in the driveway, holding the basil, peppers and peaches we bought. He looked as confused as I was as to what had just happened.

It was the start of a typical Saturday when Garv said, “If you go to the Farmers’ Market with me, I will treat you to Starbucks”. I don’t share Garv’s enthusiasm for the Farmers’ Market but I wanted to be a good sport so I agreed. And, truth be told, I’d go just about anywhere if it entailed a Mocha! So, we drove over to Starbucks and then to our local Farmers’ Market.

We taste tested our way through the market, chatted with some neighbors and ran into some old acquaintances we once spent a lot of time with when our kids were in school.   We bought some produce and headed back to the car to leave. Just as I was about to get in the car I noticed something very out of place happening in a parking lot behind the local library.

There were people sitting cross legged on drop cloths, surrounded by gallons of paint in front of two white snow plows. Half in and half out of our car I stood there for a while trying to figure out what they were doing. I decided to walk over to inquire.

As I approached, I saw sketches on the bucket of each plow. One was a beach scene with toucans roasting snowmen marshmallows over an open fire. The other was a smash up of minions. One of the women sitting cross legged greeted me. She introduced herself as the artist and a teacher at one of our middle schools. She explained how the local Arts Council had underwritten a grant for two of the city’s plows to be painted every year. The first two plows completed the previous summer survived the winter favorably with little chipping or corrosion. So they were now painting the second pair of plows.

She asked if I would like to help paint. I declined saying I was not an artist. I told her I thought it was a very cool project and thanked her for her creativity and vision. We returned to our car and headed home but my mind fixated on the snowplows.

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