Cell Phone Tango

It's not that I'm ignoring you, the caller. I'm ignoring the call. Forgive me.

It's fairly well established that when it comes to cell phone etiquette, I leave much to be desired. I rarely return missed calls if no message is left, I don't often conclude text message conversations, I can't be trusted to answer my cell when it rings no matter when it rings or who it is.

When discussing cell phone etiquette, by all accounts, I'm an inconsiderate jerk.

Most people I know (especially the people that call me) follow the established rules of interacting on the cell phone. My problem isn't with understanding these expectations but in identifying who set these expectations.

When I graduated high school, very few of my classmates had cell phones. By the time graduated college four years later, I was in a severe minority of those who still did not own one.

Four years is an extremely short time to establish socially acceptable behavior for an entirely new technology, especially after spending the first 22 years of my life working under a different set of expectations.

Immediacy is the ingredient adding most of the flavor to the cell rules I so loathe. When home phones were the norm, if the person you were calling wasn't home, you waited, or you went to plan B (if you had one). Cell phones provide a tacit agreement that anyone with your phone numbers as immediate access to you.

Oak Parking Restrictions

I am not a cranky old man, but for the length of this letter I'm sure going to sound like one.

I've lived in Oak Park for the better part of 17 years and when I first arrived, I remember this town resting on the laurels safety, architectural intrigue and commitment to community. But let's recount the reality of these commitments shall we?

Stand on any corner of town and you'll find twice as many parking regulation signs as mom'n'pop stores, a commitment born only from the village seeking a way to correct for mistakes they've been making for a decade.

I'm not the first to voice rage at the parking meter infestation plaguing our village and every commercial establishment in it, nor will I be the last. Even downtown Chicago isn't so blatant about not wanting its citizens to leave their homes.

Isn't this land theft exactly what the early settlers did to the American Indians? My grandkids better get free Fenwick enrollment and casino reparations to make up for all the miles I'm forced to walk because I don't have the dozen quarters it takes to park my car downtown to run errands.

I look forward to the first Saturday where Lake Street looks like a ghost town because Oak Parkers are all waiting until Sunday to drive anywhere with meters.

Which is now everywhere.

And as far as the architecture, I've taken the Frank Lloyd Wright tours. I'm over it. If the village wants to attract more residents, give them all a reason to reside here.