The rest of my family would probably run their daily affairs entirely through the ether — by synching up their phones and such — if it weren’t for me.
I don’t completely lack for tech savvy, and I run my work life through my Outlook calendar. But at home I’m still used to looking at a piece of paper on the wall.
And so the notion of keeping a hard-copy calendar lingers, at least for a few more years.
Having featured hundreds of my grandpa’s calendar entries and pages over the years, it seems only fair that I post one or two of my own. Here’s what the family tradition looks like in the 21st century:
(No, I don’t have a Leon Trotsky Quote-of-the-Month calendar; it’s pictures of New York City. We’re not too choosy about the images on our annual calendar. Typically it’s something like Ansel Adams. Maybe goats in trees next year?)
Not sure if WordPress lets you click to enlarge pix any more; but if you could see this photo large, you’d know that my handwriting — unlike my grandpa’s — is damned near illegible. I usually settle for writing one word clearly enough to be understood, and that clues me in on the rest.
My grandpa’s old calendar standbys — weather reports, lottery tickets, increases in the price of postage stamps — won’t be found here. Instead, the Blumenau family’s September 2016 calendar includes:
- Four high-school cross-country meets
- Two rock concerts (this one and this one)
- One Lehigh Valley IronPigs minor-league baseball game (the last of the year)
- One fundraising hoagie dinner to benefit the aforementioned cross-country team
- One driver’s-ed lesson
- One weeklong on-call work shift
We keep a separate weekly dry-erase calendar on the fridge, too; it gets updated every Sunday, usually after the grocery run. Not everything on one calendar overlaps onto the other, so they both serve a function.
This is where the family history of wordplay and sketching lives on:
“Fat man rockin’” = the first of the two concerts listed above.
“M meet – Pokenose” = a cross-country meet held up north in the land of the heart-shaped bathtub. (The booster club buys the kids hoagies for the long bus ride home. We eat a lot of hoagies over the course of a school year.)
“HS meat the teacher” – My grandpa would have liked the hamburger lecturing at the blackboard, I think.
The hard-copy calendars don’t really get saved, and the dry-erase gets wiped clean every week.
So my grandson or granddaughter, if I have one, won’t wonder in 50 years what went down at Meet-The-Teacher Night.
Or what the hell my calendar entry for Sept. 5, 2016, was supposed to mean.
Just as well, I suppose.