Long Distance Telephone Calls

When I was a kid, the bread man came by our house a couple of times a week. He’d walk to the front door with his basket of goodies, cherry, apple and strawberry turnovers, jelly donuts, other assorted pastries, and of course, bread. It was 1959 and Mom paid twenty-five cents for a loaf of bread. She thought the price outrageous, because she remembered a loaf of bread costing a nickel during the Great Depression, which was when she was a kid. Today a loaf of bread is $1.98. Mom passed away a few years back, but I think by the time she was an elderly woman she had come to accept inevitable price increases.

However, not all things increase in price as the years go by. Take for example, long-distance telephone calling. This morning via Skype I made a call from Oaxaca, Mexico to Victoria, British Columbia. First I’ll discuss the technology. If the call had been computer to computer, then it would have been a free call. Since it was a conference call, if the people at the other end had Skype, a projector, and a screen available, I could have been projected into the meeting. That would have been cool!

However, the call was my Skype to their speakerphone. The meeting lasted an hour and fifteen minutes and cost $1.659.

I’m much older than my mother was when the bread man cometh. If I wanted to, I could fret over the increases in a loaf of bread, the average house price or the outrageous cost of education. But, like my mother before me, I’ve come to accept inflation as inevitable. Nonetheless, I can be amazed at how inexpensive, long distance rates have become.

Since I didn’t remember exact rates, I did some digging. Here’s a link to a 1973 commercial that might interest you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e601moNCA7Q

In 1915, a coast-to-coast telephone call made in the United States had a minimum charge of $20.70 (2011 value - $449.21) No information was given as to how long the call would last before extra charges would apply. The commercial advertised a fantastic deal; a coast-to-coast call only costs seventy cents (2011 value - $4.07). However, there were caveats, calls could only be made on Saturdays or Sundays during specific time periods, must be made during specific times, and you could only talk for three minutes before there were extra charges.

My conference call occurred during peak business hours. Mom, being from the depression era, wouldn’t have taken to new technology they way we seniors from the baby boom generation have. Just the same, she would have been happy with the downward trending rates.

Jeremy

It’s been a week when Skype has come in mighty handy. It gave me the ability to see my grandson Jeremy’s hospital room.

Jeremy is eleven years old and we came close to losing him this week. It’s not often that a person takes an emergency flight from the Nanaimo hospital to the Vancouver General.

For those of you who don’t know, my original home is Vancouver, British Columbia. I was born there, but grew up in Burnaby, a fairly large city adjacent to Vancouver.

Although my son was born in Winnipeg, as soon as he was old enough to fly alone he spent his summers with his grandparents, who by then had moved to the outskirts of Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. Nanaimo is a small sleepy town with a beautiful harbour, and my son and his family have lived there for the last ten years.

Jeremy is blonde with blue eyes, very handsome and talks a blue streak. Normally he’s very good humored, not now. He’s mostly sleeping and wants to be left alone. He has a few bacteria strains in his body that have been identified and antibiotics should clear them up. But with the clotting it’s necessary to thin his blood. A staph infection, pnemonia and a brain clot took two days to become life threatening

Last Friday my son took him to the doctor and tests were done, the prognosis, everything was fine, bed rest and keep an eye on him were the instructions. Monday things had not improved. Again more tests, this time everything was not fine. Jeremy is lucky to be alive, spent a few days in intensive care, is now in a isolation room and recovering.

I don’t feel far away. The world is a very small place. Somewhere between 10 and 14 hours will get me from Oaxaca to Vancouver. The question is, if I’m there what can I do? Very little. The fatalistic feeling that rules my life continues, so little is in my hands.

Random Thoughts

I'm tired, but I can't sleep and I'm thinking I'll never be able to speak Spanish. In fact I'm wondering how I ever learned English.

I've downloaded (is that a word?) Skype and called my son's landline. The reception was awful, plus it costs $0.27/minute. He downloaded Skype and we could hear each other somewhat better.

I'm on Facebook. It's a good way to see what my grand daughters are up to. My friend Susan found me on Facebook. Susan and I haven't spoken to one another for about thirty-five years.

The Triqui children I teach are in for a surprise tomorrow. I've created powerpoint presentations to go with the songs they like to sing. They think they are singing songs, but I'm hoping they will learn to count.

We've got 5 little monkeys jumping on the bed, five little ducks who went swimming one day and five green and speckled frogs.

I'm going to a wedding on Saturday, tomorrow I must buy a gift. I won't know anyone at the wedding except the groom, his mother and sister. I'll have to speak Spanish, which I speak like a two year old.

I have a friend here in Oaxaca, apart from the family whose property I live on, she's a writer from Mexico City. We will be going to a free jazz concert one Saturday soon, and we will likely do coffee sometime too. She speaks English, but perhaps we should speak Spanish, which will limit our conversation.

I'm going to blog about October 2, a day the students march in the street.