Something’s been rattling around in my head since yesterday. I’m in a sharing mood. Plus, you’ll have an opportunity here to make fun of me. So:
Monday night, at 9:57, I was at home doing domestic things, watching TV, drinking wine, etc. My father, who lives out of the country, was in town. We’d spent the day with my 6-year-old daughter playing miniature golf and goofing off. My wife, staring at at text message that night, said, “[Name redacted] says Robert Wilonsky has left the Observer for a job at the Morning News.” I know it was 9:57, because that’s when my phone tells me I sent a text to Robert: “Rumor: you are going to DMN. Insane. But have to ask. True or no?”
Robert responded with a cryptic text about the Replacements and a reference to the “8-year-old that lives in his house.” I made the wanking motion and forgot about it …
The forgoing graph was written by Zac when I stepped away from my computer for a bit before I’d finished this post. No, what happened was, after a couple of confusing messages back and forth, Robert called me. He was nonplussed. Because, as you no doubt know, the news of his job jump broke more than nine hours before I texted him. Even on our own blog, Zac had already dissected the move. I was so far behind the news that Robert thought I was teasing him. “Sorry,” I told him, “but I’ve got family in town. For the past 36 hours, I haven’t looked at Twitter or checked email.” He replied, “So you’re telling me you have a life. That must be nice.”
That’s the way I saw it, too. I only see my father a couple times a year. So I put the screens away, gave him my undivided attention, and rode my kids extra hard so Dad wouldn’t think his grandchildren are undisciplined guttersnipes.
But I’m here to tell you: that’s not the way my coworkers saw it. Yesterday when I told them this story, they got the dogpile going. After saying something like, “Dude, you’re the editor of a city magazine,” Zac pointed out that his 7-year-old son had heard the news from his own sources before I did. Wick told me that he’d already heard from a friend in Chicago about the news before I learned it. They couldn’t fathom that it took nine hours for me to find out that the head guy of a blog for an alternative newsweekly had quit to become an assistant digital managing editor for the daily newspaper across town. Somehow I had failed. The implication, I think, was that if I were any good at my job, it would be impossible for me to become that unplugged.
I’m ambivalent. I’m proud that I’m not as addicted to my phone as Zac is. (Honestly, it’s something I struggle with, putting down the phone, not incessantly checking Twitter and Instagram, approving comments on this blog.) But I was also embarrassed. Because, yeah, why the hell didn’t anyone tell me?
22 comments
As an old guy, who uses his cell phone for what it was MEANT to used for–the occasional phone call when I’m in my car–I do not understand a single word you’ve written.
I see it the way you did. Sometimes, you have to be able to unplug. I mean, my situation isn’t breaking news/journalism, but it does involve me knowing what’s going on with some of the city’s movers and shakers (at least, that’s how I justify all my internet time to my superiors.) But, last weekend, my wife had our first child. I was completely unplugged for about 4 days – and the world didn’t end, metaphorically speaking. And, despite the lack of sleep and urine showers, I really enjoyed the un-plug-ed-ness.
Here comes a regular. From what I know of Robert, he never travels very far without a little Big Star.
After all the spousal grief I give you for never unplugging, leaving us clamoring for your attention and this is how the universe pays me back. Why couldn’t it have been a slow local news day?
@Christine Rogers: I’m sorry. Did you say something? I was looking at my phone.
Tim,
An auto mechanic at Pep Boys in Houston mentioned Robert’s move to me a full five hours before it dawned on your balding head.
Nice work.
Love you.
Just kidding.
Sugar
Hmm, fascinating. Now, are we ever going to catch Bin Laden?
Color me impressed.
I find this post interesting for two reasons: 1. I just tweeted yesterday that it rankles me when people wedge “nonplussed” into something just to showcase the fact they can use it properly and 2. I forgot to tweet the same thing about “ambivalent.”
So Tim, you’re saying you were robletted?
@Bob Stinson- LIKE
Everyone should go unplugged at least once a month for at least a single solid day. As an inveterate workaholic, I can say that with complete assurance. Even Wilonsky would benefit, although he doesn’t know it yet. But someday he will. Some of used to be him, albeit in pre-Internet, pre-cell phone . . . OK, prehistoric times. I still write like a maniac in the view of many. But being called “productive” is never something you want etched on your gravestone. It just doesn’t wash with the kids, the loved ones, etc. Damn, what am I doing still writing at 6:27 p.m.?
How’s that wine workin’ for ya?
@Ed Bark: At first, I thought you wrote “invertebrate alcoholic”. Too many big words!
@Amanda: Works better for me when my dad is in town and buys the good stuff.
@Amy S: Giggle.
@Vseslav: Anti-intellectualism I can dig. Hating words? That makes me sad.
I like that you spent time with your Dad. Some day he won’t be there and you would give anything to spend time with him again.
Jeez, Tim. How old are you? How young am I? Let’s count the rings around our eyes. What self respecting 40(ish) year old doesn’t know his Replacements?
I know you have a God damn job and you don’t mean to sound like a white and lazy dope smoking moron, but you lose. What’s your number? I’m calling your answering machine to tell you that I’m unsatisfied. No, I’m serious. I will dare. Meet me anyplace or anywhere or anytime to discuss hangin’ downtown or we’ll figure out something to du.
Kudos Tim. My father passed away in the Fall and I was fortunate to spend some quality time with him before it happened. Never regret your choice.
Some things are more important than knowing what’s going on in the world or even right under your nose: This has always been my motto. My father’s not dead yet — God rest his soul in advance — but when he is, I’ll sure as hell be glad I didn’t spring for an iPhone and that I drank as much good wine as he was willing to buy.
I figured your dad knew since he was with Robert at Gleneagles smoking.
what Daniel said. good for you. Ask yourself this. Would you regret more, the idea that you were tweeting and reading about news on one of the few times you get to see your dad, or the fact that you missed a story, that was adequately covered by zac, and Peter? You had priorities straight.
@Tim–I don’t hate either word. But the way they are used these days–mostly by copy editors with blogs and linguists with logs–makes me sad.