The Tortoise

I am blessed with great kids - but don't acknowledge it often enough.

This truism occurred to this old tortoise just the other day as I reopened a shoe box filled with my electronic toys, courtesy of family.

As is my habit, I looked at the objects for a while hoping one would inform me how to turn it on - before taking some pee-pee steps from my Mother May I days. Then, I slowly entered the "age of the new electronics".

That age is not to be confused with my 20th century prior mastery of: Reel to Reel recorders/players, Cassette players, Polaroid and Brownie cameras, record players, RCA plugs, Manaural and Stereo Receivers as large as your normal imported compact car and Advent speakers best placed on something substantial like the concrete garage floor.

It seems I work better with large objects like a refrigerator or freezer from whence I remove objects that contribute to making ME bigger too.

Unfortunately, I do not have the same success with any miniature electronic device that is preceded by the lower case letter "i" - like the ipod my kids "presented' me with some time ago.

Actually it's an "ipod nano" apparently named after someones mechanically gifted grandparent. I slowly removed it and a set of Bose ear phones that fit inside the ear and were a gift from my wife.

My son Bruce had previously downloaded about 75 songs of various tastes for me. To my latent amazement, when I figured out how to charge this tiny ipod - and determine which ear each of the minature earphones were designed to fit, I had my socks "blown off'.

No, I didn't electrocute myself. I was referring to my amazement at the incredible music I was introduced to as Bella and I waited in the car for "BW' Phyl to come out of the eye doctors office.

I heard Tchaikovsky that sounded like a live Heinz Hall performance by the Pittsburgh Symphony. One movement of  Dvorak's New World Symphony was every bit as impressive as that heard at a Philadelphia Orchestra park concert 20 years ago.

My jazz never sounded better. One cut was as crystal clear as that provided by the incredible acoustics of the intimate Snug Harbor in New Orleans when listening to one of our favorite jazz pianists, Ellis Marsalis.

Heck, even Englebert sounded good in the car.

I'm presently overloaded by "only" 678.8 MB  due to some overzealous importing of my favorites yesterday.

So once more; "The tortoise is saying THANKS TO ALL - particularly my kids who have one heckuva lot of patience with me.

Oops, here comes  Edvard Grieg's "In The Hall of The Mountain King" from Peer Gynt. I have to stand up to direct this one. .

Run, "Tortoise Man"!