Thursday, December 11, 2014


     My friend’s husband is an IT guy. He put many apps on her phone, and she doesn’t even know what they are or how to access them. I have 27 on my phone of which I use six. Assuming for safety’s sake, you have a different password for each one, that means you would have to memorize at least 150 different series of letters, numbers, caps and small letters. Are you effen kiddin’ me? She and I are of the Silent Generation, and we talk with our mouths.  Now there’s a concept. I do love technology most of the time, but when I can’t recall my password, and I see the word RETRY, I want to throw the damn thing through the Apple orchard.

    Now I have tried to become creative with my password. They say you shouldn’t use 12345, so I have avoided that one. The one that the hacker liked was Iloveyoubaby2. Now I thought that was quite creative. I figured the 2 would throw the guy off. Wrong. And I didn’t use a comma between you and baby, so I figured if he was a grammar guru, he would be annoyed at the mistake and leave it alone. Wrong. 

     I have tried coming up with some unusual passwords and even thought about writing a story. Having a password for each chapter title like “Atthefarmchap1”  and “Leavingthefarmchap2,” but that didn’t work because I couldn’t figure out where to go after leaving the farm. 

         Now I’ve resorted to using the moldy 1976 phone books that are sitting gathering mouse turds in the basement. I just look up some random person, write his first name and the first three letters of his phone number, and voilà! How do I remember these? They’re written in my secret place that no one will ever know except my therapist. If she tells, she will lose her license, and there will be many crazies (correction: many more crazies) walking the streets.