On the Way to the Movies

On our way to the movie theater this afternoon, my daughter and I talked. Certainly, we covered many topics, but the ones that I remember involve my childhood. Especially the differences between our current media consumption and mine, thirty-some years ago when I was her age.

You see, we had three good television channels and a couple independent broadcasters. Everyone watched those three channels. Since we were on our way to a Disney movie, I mentioned that one of my favorite shows was the Wonderful World of Disney. Every Sunday night my family would gather in the living room to watch it. I really liked it when they showed cartoons.

I explained that, when I was a kid, we could only see cartoons at certain times on certain days. We didn't have entire channels devoted to them! Having fewer choices lead, paradoxically, to watching a greater variety of programs.

But we were on our way to a movie, so I had to mention drive-in movies. There were rows of speakers set in a wide, gravel parking lot. A huge screen, under which was a playground. A low, central building that housed the projector, restrooms, and snack bar.

I liked going with Kevin. His parents had a station wagon! You know the drill. You back the station wagon into the spot, put down the tailgate, and sit with your feet dangling. The speaker hung from the car window would crackle and squawk a bit, always tinny, but you didn't care.

There was no better summer fun than eating a hot dog served in a paper boat, watching Godzilla fight Megalon from the back of a station wagon.

Pictures Hung - Look Nice

A few posts back I mentioned our trip to Buffalo for the Allentown Art Festival. There, we picked up a set of three food pictures for our kitchen. Today, I hung the photos, and they look really nice.

The photos are by Charles E. Hull.

They weren't very expensive - just $15 each. They look like they'd be somewhat washable, since they appear to be vinyl stretched over a wood block. Just the thing for kitchen art.

Stores Don't Get It

This story is a few years old, but it still applies. I bought a nice coffee grinder, a Cuisinart, for my wife and I. I purchased it from Macy's.

There are a few reasons to choose a brick & mortar store over shopping online. There's the fun of walking around and looking at stuff. You can poke and prod the merchandise and its competitors. You interact with other human beings. The big reasons, though, are that you get your purchases immediately and you have a place to return them if something goes wrong.

As you may have guessed, something went wrong with this coffee grinder. It suffered infant mortality and quit working soon after we bought it. That happens, even with the best products. So I took it back, but they wouldn't take it back. I didn't have the receipt and I didn't have the box. I had my credit card statement, though.

I'm sorry, but that is why I bought it from a store. So they would take it back if it broke. If they can't bring up the record of my purchase given the date, time, credit card number, etc. that's their deficiency. Requiring the wrapping materials for a non-functioning device is nonsense - they cannot resell it. I suggested that they could simply pull another off the shelf and use it's box - I would take a new one without the packaging.

Nope.

The result is that I no longer shop at Macy's. They broke their end of the buyer's contract once, evidently by policy, so I am better off shopping elsewhere. I am better off having my products delivered to my doorstep, for less.

At least Cuisinart was cool. They sent a new unit to me, no questions asked. Like Chris Elliot pointed out in a recent column, consumers don't care whose fault it is when something doesn't work. We expect to take it back to the company that took our money and get a refund. It's not an unreasonable expectation.

Hooray for Indians

The beer can chicken came out just fine. The glaze was good - need to use it elsewhere. But that's not what this post is about.

Hooray for the Cleveland Indians. Two quick stories, both involving my son.

My son had a seizure. Just one, but given his disability it was cause for some concern. His pediatric neurologist suggested that we spend four days with him in the Cleveland Clinic, with his head wired to detect seizure activity. He didn't have any, but four days in a hospital, with your world constricted to your room, the hall, and another room, isn't any fun for anyone. But the Cleveland Indians had donated a gaming system, games, and a cart to help protect it - for the use of the children in this ward. My son loved that game.

For a present, my son's physical education teacher gave him four tickets to an Indian's game. Unfortunately, we could not use those tickets due to a prior commitment. The Indians sent us four other tickets for a later game.

Neither of these things are going to be in the paper, or mentioned on the radio. Many are liable to think that they aren't worth mention because the organization is so wealthy. But these little things - a video game to borrow and tickets to a summer baseball game - they matter to my son. And so, they matter to me.

Chicken Butt

I will be sporting the Jovan Musk smell for the upcoming year. Hooray! Dad will smell like Dad.

It is a little late to be planning our summer, but that's what my wife and I have been doing today, between other things. Turns out that, once you place everything on the calendar, our summer has planned itself. Our big vacation, Boston and Acadia, is well laid out.

Minor emergency. My wife just screamed for help from the kitchen. Expecting blood or fire, I found her incapacitated by laughter. She's making me beer can chicken for the first time and she had just shoved the half-filled can of beer up what would have been the chicken's butt.

This is what passes for excitement in the Zakany household.

Somewhat undignified for the chicken, I suppose. I hope it tastes good.