THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, June 7, 1996 TAG: 9606050172
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Over Easy
SOURCE: Jo-Ann Clegg
LENGTH: 84 lines
On a very hot July day in 1978 I made a tactical error - one which has come back to haunt me on many occasions.
``No,'' I said to the crowd assembled in front of a new, very basic station wagon parked toward the back of a dealer's lot, ``we are not going to pay an extra 150 bucks for an AM/FM radio for this thing.''
The crowd consisted of Bill Sr. who was nodding agreement, our three then-teen-age sons who couldn't believe what they were hearing and a new car salesman wearing 13 gold chains and an electric blue leisure suit.
Bill and I stood our ground. We drove the car off the lot with three furious adolescent males in the back seat. Each responded to the insult in his own way.
Bill Jr. launched into a filibuster laced with facts and figures on the comfort, safety and societal benefits of an upgraded radio. John sat stone-faced and sullen while making occasional references to legalizing child-parent divorces.
Andy tore through a Radio Shack catolog in search of a kit which would produce an FM car radio at the same time that it inflicted cruel and inhumane punishment on anyone over the age of 25 who tried to use it.
Eventually Bill and I forgot about the events of that day.
Not so, our sons.
For the past 18 years each time we have bought a fancy new appliance or a piece of pricey electronics equipment, they have reminded us of that hot July afternoon.
``You bought what?'' Bill Jr. exclaimed when we got a garage door opener.
``I needed it because I hurt my back every time I lifted the old one,'' I explained.
He refused to buy my story. Not even after I brought up three pregnancies and a score of years spent transporting wriggling little boys, their overweight, arthritic beagle and weekly commissary orders large enough to feed a pro football team for a month.
John was equally direct. ``You wouldn't even buy us one with FM,'' he said as he checked out the AM/FM radio with tape player in the next new vehicle we brought home.
``Look,'' I told him, ``you guys were all either in college or heading there when we bought that station wagon. My whole salary went into the checking account and came out the other end in Blacksburg or Charlottesville in those days. One hundred fifty dollars bought a lot of text books back then.''
``With better financial planning, our college educations would have been paid for in advance,'' he replied.
``With worse financial planning we would never have staked you to a degree in finance,'' I countered, thinking as I said it that life might have been simpler if we hadn't.
Andy was a little less obvious in reminding us of our failed parental obligations.
Occasionally he'd make some oblique comment about parents who refused to give their children the necessities of life like food, shelter, clothing and FM car radios but for the most part he kept his mouth shut.
Recently, however, he added his own two cents worth to the 18-year-old family fray.
Several weeks ago I had a call from a nice young woman who was selling the Caller ID program to telephone company customers.
I listened to her pitch, which, in itself is very unusual for me. Then I did something I've never done before. I actually bought what the telemarketer was selling.
So now, I can see who has called me while I was out (even if they didn't leave a message) and I can, if I choose, find out who is currently calling before I answer.
Andy was the first of our sons to learn about the new equipment. That was the evening his dad picked up the phone and said ``Hi, Alex,'' even before our grandson had a chance to babble his own ``hello.''
When Andy found out that I was the one who had bought it, he fired up his state-of-the-art computer and sent the following E-Mail message to his two brothers.
``Mom now has Caller I.D. This from the woman who wouldn't even buy us a FM car radio,'' the message said in its entirety.
Within minutes his brothers were on the phone to us. The olds wounds were reopened, the old fight was being refought.
After the first two calls Bill and I chose not to participate. We used our new Caller ID to screen out anything coming in from Atlanta, Charlotte or Arlington.
I must admit, new technology has a lot to recommend it. I also must admit that I've thoroughly enjoyed several generations of AM/FM car radios in the years since I said no to the first one. by CNB