Last night I realized that my parents finally crossed the technological divide and entered the 21st Century (about ten years late). See, my parents are definitely not youngsters. They don’t use computers. The internet is a scary land for them. Identity theft frightens them. In fact, my Mom has kept all her posted checks since 1982 hidden away in a closet and has only finally started destroying them now that she’s found a “heavy duty shredder” because “you just can’t trust anyone these days.” She’s convinced the trashman knows her Social Security number and is just waiting for the perfect opportunity to open a Fingerhut account in her name.

So when some slimy cell phone employee in a kiosk at the mall convinced them to buy a text messaging plan for their cell phones, I was shocked. The first message I received was from my Dad’s phone. That was back in August 2008.  It read “Guess who Loves you most?” I suppose he wasn’t happy when I texted back with “I’m probably guessing Mom, why?” Soon after, my parents were texting me about their daily activities. “Hi Laddie. At the store. Love you.” “Having pea soup with Daddy.” “Son. Bought a new recliner!”

That may sound awful to some but I actually didn’t mind it. It made the idea of my parents seem so much closer. There’s something pretty nifty when you’re 7 hours up the coast from your parents and yet we can still keep in touch at a granular level. And when technology allows you to be involved in the fabric selection for the family Barcalounger via MMS pictures of swatches–who could complain? However, with every good thing comes a cost. And in this instance, it was a literal monetary cost. Each one of those damn messages was a dime…and the fabric selection alone was a $7.90 ordeal. I’m 40 years younger than my parents and by 2009 they forced me into upgrading to limitless texts. Thanks, parents.

Things were good for a while. The standard texts continued. The pea soup was good. Dad loves the recliner. And I wasn’t been charged an arm and a leg by AT&T.  All seemed well in the world. But there’s always a calm before the storm. Just as suddenly as they upgraded to a text messaging plan, one day their texts shockingly morphed. How did my Mom learn so quickly to text like a 15 year old? I blame the grandkids. Clearly those little brats taught her to LOL and roll on the floor. I imagine she sat in our living room snuggling up in her houndstooth Barcalounger texting the grandkids and keeping a spiral-bound notebook full of scribbles decoding all the various slang. Scrawled across one page: “Alas! A colon followed by an open parenthesis is a smile or a frown.” She’d then pass the notebook over to my Dad and they’d compare notes. “No, Mother. I think a colon followed by a dollar sign means they’re sick or ate something sour.” Soon both parents were texting like freshmen in high school: “Son, Dont 4get 2 b on ur way b4 noon.” “LOL, Laddie. Ur soooooo funny. Thx 4 that.” “U mean a lot 2 me. Luv u xxoo.” “K. Got da pic n card. R u home?”

Umm, seriously WTF? What am I supposed to do with them? I figure I will lead by example and purposefully never abbreviate ANYTHING when I text them. I don’t even use contractions. Nope. The parents get the full “you are” and “I am” and “it is.” I hope one day they will see the error of their way; but until then, I put up with my teenaged parents’ texting antics. And I’ll let my Mom continue to think that she’s laughing her ankles off.

Toodles,
Gary Jr.