My Apple Watch won't shut up

My Apple Watch won’t shut up

Horror stories about older people falling and laying undiscovered for hours prompted me to get an Apple Watch.  The watch detects falls or changes in heart rate and asks, “Is everything OK?” If there is no answer or if the hapless watch owner requests help, the watch calls for emergency assistance.

My first challenge in wearing my new watch was how to get it out of the box. Apple products feature slick packaging with only visual cues to indicate how to extract and use the product. Many years ago, after I got my first iPad, I attended a help session at the Apple store in Reston. The instructor started his spiel about all the wonderful apps. An elderly gentleman raised his hand.  “You have a question, sir?” asked the young instructor. “Yes,” was the reply, “how do you get it out of the box?”

With the help of a YouTube video, I finally managed to unbox the watch and place it on my wrist. It turns out telling time is one of its least important features; Wearing an Apple Watch is like having your cell phone strapped to your wrist. Every app I have on my iPhone is replicated and new ones added. I now have 48 apps resting on my wrist.

My Apple Watch is always yammering at me. Using an endless supply of dings and pings, the watch tells me to get up because I have been immobile too long. It reminds me I have a new message. It tells me I am no longer within range of my cell phone. It reminds me of meeting times, and no matter where I go it reports how long the drive home will take. It even dings for birthday reminders. 

Due to my negligence in keeping this list up to date, I get lots of notices of birthdays for people who have long since died. 

The watch features a particularly annoying feature labelled “exercise rings.” The first time it buzzed me and told me to check my rings, I quickly checked my finger to make sure my wedding ring was still there. Turns out rings for the Apple Watch are activity related. There’s the red move ring, the green exercise ring and the blue stand ring, which hounds you to stand for a least one minute per hour.

I receive messages that tell me “Stand up! You can do this, Lyn!” or “Yesterday was all about your exercise ring, Lyn. Boom! Go for it today.”

Unfortunately, the Apple Watch does not have an app that says, “Shut up.”

The most useful app on the watch is an icon that makes my cell phone ring. This has proved invaluable as I forget where I have placed my phone at least five times a day. Now I just press the “make my cell phone ring” icon and my phone pings its location.

I complained to a friend about my talkative watch, and she suggested deleting annoying apps. This is an option for someone who, unlike me, easily negotiates technology. With my luck I would accidentally remove the “Call 911” app and keep the exercise rings. This is a risk I do not want to take. If I fall, I do not want the last words I hear to be “Lyn, keep moving to make progress toward your Stand Goal.”

Graveyards are strangely comforting

I thoroughly enjoyed the production of “Sister Act” at the Old Opera House in April. The costumes, the acting, the set design were all terrific.

It made me think of Edge Hill Cemetery.

I gave up jogging years ago, and now I get my steps by traversing the cemetery. The roads are usually free of traffic, the terrain is fairly level and, needless to say, it’s very quiet.

Walking through the cemetery gives me a strong sense of community. There are lots of names I recognize from my 40 years in Jefferson County. School board members, elected officials, civic leaders, community organizers, educators—so many gave of their time to strengthen our community. Reading the familiar names on the headstones is strangely comforting. 

I have reached that terrible age when many of the people I have enjoyed for decades are leaving us. Back in the day, congratulation cards for new babies and school graduations dominated my notecard supply. Now I buy stacks of sympathy cards.

A writer once commented, “Graveyards are full of indispensable people.” It seems the losses to our community of indispensable people are mounting. Jane Rissler, Ren Parziale, Grant Smith, Dale Manuel and James Tolbert are just a few of the luminaries we have lost. 

Fast forward to “Sister Act.” The program includes more than 50 names of people who contributed their time and talent to the production. I recognized three of them. Back in the 1980s when my husband Ron was president of the Old Opera House, we knew almost everyone participating in the planning and production of shows. Not anymore.  

I am reminded of John F. Kennedy’s famous statement, “The torch has been passed to a new generation.” In the case of Jefferson County, the torch has been passed to new arrivals. In 2023 alone a total of 796 building permits were issued in the county. This is the single largest number of residential building permits issued in 20 years.

The increase in new residents is affecting every aspect of life, including the political scene. Having a familiar county name is no longer enough to win votes. When I ran for county commission in 2008, people told me I would get votes solely based on my husband’s family name. People knew of the Widmyers and their community activities. With our county’s growing population, longtime family names are no longer so important.

At my advanced age, I am happy to pass the torch to a new generation of newcomers to our county. I just hope when it comes to getting involved in making our community better our new residents will be as indispensable as those who are now resting in peace.

Spirit of Jefferson, June 12,2024

Just because I am old, do I really have to let go?

Apparently at my age (75) I am supposed to start cleaning my house of clutter. In her book “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning,” Margareta Magnusson advises, “Get rid of stuff now, so your children won’t have to.”

Magnusson, who says her age is between 80 and 100, believes as our date of departure from earth grows closer, we should take the time to make our home nice and orderly.

I am not planning to depart from this earth any time soon, but I am getting older. We bought a new mattress last month, and the salesman boasted the model had a 25-year warranty. “Unless the mattress folds into a coffin, that warranty is not a selling point,” I replied.

Magnusson cheerfully provides tips on getting rid of clutter. Start with a category of stuff that is simple, easy to handle and doesn’t have too much sentimental connection, she advises.

So I started with socks.

I have 47 pairs of athletic socks. More than are probably owned by Serena and Venus Williams, combined. My collection includes crew socks, ankle socks and no-show socks. Am I a world-class athlete who must regularly change footwear as I compete around the world? No. I do like to walk and play pickleball, but neither past time requires 47 pairs of socks. I will donate most to a homeless shelter.

Buoyed by my sock effort, I moved onto shoes. It turns out I have 17 pairs of shoes, the majority of which are black. I have black high heels, low heels, no heels, sandals, black shoes with decorations, black shoes without decorations—after socks, black shoes comprise my largest category of clothing items. 

I have kept all these shoes to ensure I always have the proper footwear for any type of event I might attend. I may not have a sentimental attachment to my 10-year-old, low-heeled black pumps, but what if I get invited to a semi-formal dinner or, more likely, must attend a funeral? Do I risk throwing out an appropriate pair of shoes?  

I decided to keep the black shoes but jettison any shoes with laces (keeping just two pairs of athletic sneakers). Slip on footwear is my go to choice now.  

By this time I am exhausted. And I have not even tackled the biggest items requiring much more thought: family photos, memorabilia, paper ephemera (like the response from the late Sen. Byrd to a letter son Nick wrote at age 9 questioning the decision to put a highway through our farm), knick-knacks, paintings, furniture. 

The depressing thought of dealing with all the clutter that is in our very large farmhouse deters me from tidying up.                   

Magnusson warns careful, thoughtful death cleaning takes many, many hours. I am not willing to put in the time. I would rather spend my remaining years enjoying pursuits like pickleball or jigsaw puzzles or streaming movies.

I have an alternative to Swedish Death Cleaning from the Travelers (gypsies) of Ireland. When a family member dies, possessions unwanted by the immediate family are burned.

I am going to attach the local regulations for burn piles in Jefferson County to my will. My kids can then burn what they don’t want, including what’s left in my sock drawer and whatever remains of my black shoe collection.