Julaine Deare Schexnayder, of New Iberia, discusses in her “Bayou Wordsmith” column in the Daily Iberian a problem with modern technology faced by those of us who “remember when you had to dial ‘0’ and speak to a live operator to make a long-distance call … at a time when phones were attached by 6-foot cords to the wall.”
The problem, she says, involves the passwords you need for the various apps:
“Don’t use the same password more than once,” she was advised by those familiar with the new technology.
“Keep your bank password separate from your Facebook password, and choose a different one for iTunes.
“So what should one do? Buy a little book and write all these passwords down …”
Of course, then you have to remember where you put the book …
Julaine says she thought her new phone would be handy for keeping track of the ages of the grandchildren — but now she can’t recall the password to access that data.
Try to remember
Joan Waguespack Barre, of Metairie, has a “forgetfulness” story:
“I keep my ‘remembering’ list on my kitchen table and check it each morning while eating breakfast.
“About a year ago, I decided I needed a ‘Where I Put It’ book, as I spent much time trying to find things.
“I labeled a notebook and made entries as I stored things.
“All went well for a while — until the book disappeared.”
Joan says after searching her house, she finally found the “Where I Put It” book where she put it — in her file cabinet under her 2015 Medicare Handbook.
Roy Pitchford, of Monroe, says, “Talk about motorists getting directions reminded me of a time when the late Advocate journalist Hal Ledet was looking for a location in an area of north Louisiana where he had never been before.
“A local told him to drive down the highway and ‘turn right a half-mile before the barbecue place.’
“To be safe, Hal drove to the barbecue place and then turned around.”
The nose knows
Years ago, before the legendary Leatha’s barbecue joint moved to Hattiesburg, Mississippi, it was located by the railroad tracks in the tiny community of Foxworth, between McComb and Hattiesburg.
One evening, during a visit to McComb, Lady Katherine and I decided to try Leatha’s and set out to find it, armed with some sketchy directions from a motel clerk.
We found the railroad tracks in Foxworth, but there was no sign of a barbecue place.
“Stop here,” Lady K directed, pointing to a wide place beside the highway.
Then she rolled down the car window and stuck her head out, sniffing the air.
“It’s that way,” she finally said, indicating a tree-lined lane that didn’t seem to go anywhere.
Sure enough, Leatha’s was just a short distance away — and giving off the smoky aroma of great barbecue places everywhere.
Here’s Linda Dalferes’ “asking directions” story:
“Driving on La. 1, we came to a bridge that was closed. We spotted a man at a nearby gas station and asked him if he knew how we could get to Grand Isle.
“He says as seriously as could be, in a wonderful French accent: ‘Aw, you can’t get there from here.’
“Then he got a big old grin and said, ‘I’m just messing with you,’ and gave us very good directions. Made our day!”
Keith Horcasitas says when he sent a “Happy New Year!” text to the Buddhist priest Thich Dao Quang, his friend replied, “Happy New Mind!” — a good way to look at the challenges of the year ahead.
Special People Dept.
Herman “Dutch” Prager, of Mandeville, celebrates his 91st birthday on Thursday. He is a World War II Navy veteran, serving on the submarine USS Kingfish in the Pacific, and a volunteer and speaker at the World War II Museum in New Orleans.
Billy DeFee, of Tioga, tells of a verbal mistake that could have been a Freudian slip:
“I was in Prairieville visiting my daughter. Saying grace, Mia Long, of St. Amant, a 4-year-old friend of my two granddaughters, finished up with ‘Lord, take away the sins of the world, I’m thirsty’ — instead of ‘have mercy.’ ”
Loren Scott offers “One for your English majors:”
A pregnant woman hobbles into the hospital with one hand on her back. A nurse asks her what’s wrong, and the pregnant woman screams, “Shouldn’t! Wouldn’t! Didn’t!”
The nurse shakes her head and says, “I’m sorry; I don’t understand.”
The pregnant woman’s face contorts in pain as she shouts, “Can’t! Won’t! Don’t!”
The nurse, bewildered, turns to a doctor.
“Admit her,” the doctor says. “She’s having contractions.”
Write Smiley at Smiley@theadvocate.com. He can also be reached by fax at (225) 388-0351 or mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821.