Fears IV

In the mid 80's, with the birth of my second child, I was working as a volunteer with a group in Califonia who was attempting to use State political channels to promote the idea of "Telecommuting." The technology to take cars out of the gridlock and allow workers to have families and raise them too was newly available and booming. Developing the tech was a walk through an amusement park compared to developing employer/employee relations which would ensure an equitable deal for all. Even now that phones are smarter than people and "telecommuting" is a common practice of many names, the employer/employee relations remain the most difficult piece of the job. Some things never change?

Within this 1980's dialog, "The Suburban Coffee Klatch" was seen as one of the greatest obstacles to the success of the program. The model was based on suburban life during the 60's and 70's. Etymology uncertain, but I believe the term evolved in the LA suburbs and spread from there. The grandmothers of the "Desperate Housewives?" Dunno. . . For certain, my mother was a master of infiltrating the coffee klatches, coast to coast. Watching her work that Jane market was? ? ? profound. Fast forward to the "Telemarketing" project and I found myself stepping outside my SW suburban door to realize that danger was non-existant in my neighborhood. It was a latch-key kid hood. The few adults at home were staying behind their closed doors. Were there still housewife coffee klatches in Califonia? Even my MIL wasnae any longer hosting coffee klatches in her home, but her husband had recently retired. That was expected. I knew zero women in my own generation who hosted coffee klatches or even had time for housework. The Everyday Housewife was looking like an endagered species in my own here and now. Even more so on this day more than 30 years later.

As I try to make sense on how to bless my new charges with a social life, it seems to me that this same pattern is emerging, again and again of people worrying more about long dead stereotypes than in-your-face-realities. When the busy mother at the daycare rejected me, she didnae know my name, rank nor serial number. Proof unavailable, but I believe she was seeing her mother. In actual fact, my only certainty is there wasnae a single thing *I* could take personally in the rejection. I saw only busy buzz. Another vehicle in the gridlock. Of course there was a smart phone in her 21st century Florence Nightengale costume. Every busy person needs at least one. I know busy people who keep one for every OS they are developing apps for. Tools of the trade. My departed son was connected enough to make it a fair question as to whether he was texting and driving at the moment of the fatal car wreck. Maybe apping and driving. Is there a diff from the safety angle?

Sorting. . . Where be the fact and where be the psychoses(pl)? For sure, Glenn Cambell's "Everyday Housewife" has an exhibit right next to Charles Babbage's Analytical Machine. What's that? ? ?

And again, I leave the mood icon at the rapid cycle median.