It was only last year that I truly discovered how complicated my relationships were. You would think by now I’d understand this sort of complexity, but you obviously would be wrong.
I am hoist by my own petard here in a way, given how public my life has become. I could use a Venn diagram to explain this, but I don’t want to. Also I probably can’t.
But I can maybe explain, starting with the newspaper.
I have readers, of course, casual, random, and loyal. Some of them, though, are old friends, mostly around my community, who use my column in a practical way to stay updated for whatever reason.
Then there are Twitter followers. I rarely use Twitter and a lot of my followers are strangers or worse, but there are a few people who have decided to use that forum for most of their communication, as odd as that seems to me.
Facebook is what we know it is, a huge information clearinghouse that makes it easy. Still, as total users head for a billion there are some who don’t do Facebook.
There are those, too, who are reachable by email but no other electronic means.
These all overlap, too, in different ways. Hence Venn.
Then there are Texans.
These are my wife’s Texans, that is (there are plenty of others). And even though some of them use this new computer technology stuff, they’re not particularly jacked into my family. Julie’s parents, as the most extreme example, do none of this. They are phone call only.
I’m leaving out the oldest network, word of mouth, person to person. There’s some of that, too.
So here we are, and also here we are: A Big Event is probably coming up, and once again my imaginary Venn diagram needs to be tweaked.
Next week my wife goes in front of a Presbytery meeting, called to an associate pastorship at the church she currently serves. There are some oddities about this, procedural and polity things, and of course this is a particular denomination of the Protestant faith with their own oddities. I won’t go into detail because I’m not sure I know enough, although I know plenty lately.
At any rate, assuming there are no obstacles at this meeting, five days later there will be a big ordination service, on Sunday, Nov. 20. First Sunday in Advent.
(Those of you with little, no, or even hostile interest in this sort of thing: You just need to know this is a big moment for our family, including our church family. Be nice.)
And now we have a problem to solve. Julie’s parents are in their late 80s and not really comfortable traveling all the way out here, not to mention the up-in-the-air nature of this. But it’s important to them, too, and wouldn’t it be nice if they could join us, somehow?
And they can. We think. We hope. Might be some praying also.
You could, too. Join, I mean.
Yesterday I did a dry run, streaming our Sunday service out on the internets, watched by a couple of interested observers who gave me feedback. In the meantime, I ran around the church building, watching the feed on my iPhone and giving myself feedback.
The consensus was that it worked OK. Sound was not great, and we’re never going to get broadcast quality, of course, but it worked. There are some things to tweak, mostly camera position but also camera.
As I just found out that I can actually stream via my iPhone. Why would I do this? Because the iPhone has a superior camera, even though my webcam is pretty good. How to mount the iPhone would be another thing, something to try next week, and it might be too much trouble, but I’ll give it a shot.
So there ya go. There might be obstacles, there might be more delays, I’m not counting on anything, but I’m grateful for technology. It seems old and new at the same time, ordained by the past and zooming into the future. Look at us: We’re on TV. Here’s hoping.