They say old habits die hard, and I guess it’s true.
But traditions are a sort of shared old habit, and traditions don’t die hard at all — although they don’t flat-out die, either. Traditions evolve. People come and go. What’s possible replaces what you could never do, and what you used to do all the time gets a lot harder as the muscle aches and stray indecisions of age set in.
So all right, I know: the “Christmas traditions” I remember from my four decades in New Jersey are probably long gone.
(Early in the week, I asked my mother what she’d be making for Christmas dinner — feeling all nostalgic, y’know, for turkey and pies and fruit cake and all that, to say nothing of the many-voiced family sit-down conversation around the table. “Meatball sandwiches,” she said. “What?!?” “Well,” she explained, “it was just getting too complicated trying to get everybody here at the same time, for the same length of time. This way they can drop in whenever they want and stay as long as they want.”)
But the one tradition that lives on — one that I haven’t been able to take part in, not for many years — is just seeing everyone at Christmas.
This year, a few weeks ago, I had one of those Duh, slap-yourself-in-the-forehead moments.
Webcams, I thought. Video chats…
Of course, this was aided by Google’s recent introduction to Gmail of a video chat feature. All three of my siblings, as well as I myself, have Gmail accounts.
To make a long story short, I picked up a well-reviewed webcam and ran a few tests with The Brother. And yesterday, for the first time ever, I was “there” at his place for his annual family holiday gathering — together with The Sisters, The Mother and Stepdad, The Niece and Nephews, and many of the assorted hangers-on we’ve managed to accumulate over the years.
The Brother and I being the eternally mischievous boys we are, we of course had to initiate this as a prank.
We told Mom that I’d made a video and uploaded it to the Web. At a prearranged time, The Brother took her into the back room to a household computer to play it for her. In the video, I explained that I’d made it on Christmas Day so that they all could see me even if I couldn’t see them.
I made small talk for a moment or two, but then there was a problem with the camera. The image froze, went all scratchy and then had a sort of tiled look (as at the top of this post). Finally I figured out what was wrong and fixed the problem, and the rest of the video went smoothly.
Especially the part when I started to compliment my mother on her clothes, and her hairdo, and her earrings.
Because, of course, it wasn’t a pre-recorded video at all. It was live. Heh.
It ended up being probably a 90-minute conversation, with family member after family member getting into the chair up in NJ. Not quite the same as being there, but a heck of a lot better than not seeing them at all.
P.S. Only downside, for someone who for two years has been trying hard to break the Windows habit: see the image below. Grrrrrr.
marta says
That is awesome. Love the way you introduced the whole thing too. And just to add–because what the heck it, it reminded me–you should see the Doctor Who episode called “Blink.” In it it seems that the video recording of The Doctor can respond to the person watching. Just saying.
John says
marta: Sheesh. I still haven’t even found Torchwood and here you are, insisting I need to catch up on its source material too. :)
You familiar with the idea of a Turing machine? a computer capable of carrying on such a convincing “conversation” (even if via simple text) that you can’t tell if it’s a computer or a human at the other end? I think we’re getting into the area of Turing-complete videos here!
Jules says
That is fabulous. I’m glad it worked out, once you overcame the pesky tiles.
John says
Jules: Yep, it was a real *cough* kick!
The video filters were fun to play with. (The Brother and I ran some tests on Christmas Eve.) Probably the most effective at looking like “transmission problems” were the ones which, like, fuzzed up the image. But there were also some completely crazy ones — like “talk to the hand,” in which my head and shoulders were replaced by a photo of an open palm… with my mouth in the center of the palm, and an eye at the tip of the thumb and little finger.
Just couldn’t bring myself to torture El Madre with that one, though!
cynth says
From a sibling’s point of view it was great to have you there…And yet unfamiliar too. The hardest part for me was the having to force myself to not look at you…not because I can’t stand the sight of you…but because I couldn’t read your lips while talking. I had to really, really concentrate on listening to what you had to say (an impossible task as we opened your presents to us). The conversation in the room removed from everyone was just so much better. What exactly DID you say to us while we were opening anyway??
John says
cynth: What did I say while you were opening the presents? You do realize, don’t you, that your question presupposes I have any idea what I said?!? (Although I vaguely remember saying, like, “What’s going on? I can’t see anything! Who’s that? Is that Tom over there?” and so on. Of course, since no one could hear ME at that point it felt like I was a crazy person talking to the padded walls.)
I actually considered keeping a notepad and big fat felt marker handy during the conversation, so I could writerealfast while talking — closed-captioned video chatting! a technological feast!
But then I realized I’d be enjoying myself to much to stop and take notes on my own verbiage. :)