by Mark C. Wallfisch

Dad wanted to attend his condo owners’ meeting, but he was in New York and the meeting was in Florida.  So I set up Zoom for him, and we practiced logging on.  

“Let’s do it one more time,” I told Dad.

“No, I don’t need to.  I’ve got it.  Don’t assume I’m an idiot,” he insisted.

“I’m not assuming anything.  I just want you to be able to get into the meeting.”

“I’m gonna do it.  I’m gonna do it.  Don’t worry so much.”  

I thought, if he’s not worried, I’m not going to worry.  I left for work.

I did, though, set a reminder for myself, and, right before the time of the meeting, I called Dad to see if he had logged on.  “Can you see and hear OK?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m in,” he bristled, “go back to whatever you’re doing.”  So I did.  

When I got home from work hours later, Dad was sitting in his recliner next to his computer, with a look of contentment.  “I did it, I saw the whole meeting – they’re a bunch of nuts – but I saw and heard the whole thing.  They even sent everybody a recording of it.”

“That’s great, Dad.  Let’s see.”

Dad loaded the file, and we watched it.

After the first few minutes, I had to ask, “Dad, you could see lots of people, right?”

“Yeah.  Some are unbelievable.”

“Do you know they could all see you, too?”

“No, I didn’t think about that.”

“Yes, they could see you, just like you could see them.”


“So, for the next meeting, Dad, please don’t floss your teeth or pick your nose.”

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