Happy Birthday To Min, Who Today Has Decided She is 65

Today is my mother Min Shapiro’s birthday. If she were celebrating at an earthly venue, she’d be 99. But since Mom is in her heavenly high rise, with ocean views on all sides, she has elected to be 65.

“Any age?” I asked as we Face Time-ed on our iPads. (I have the 2. She has 3. They get them first up there.) “If you get to choose any age, why 65? Why not some time in your 20’s when you were a hot chick?”

Mother frowned; I had erred for I knew she had always considered herself a glamour girl. A Dorothy Lamour look-alike I had written in my memoir.

“I didn’t mean that, Mom,” I said quickly. “You were gorgeous your whole life, and, um, afterlife. I’m just wondering what was so special about that age.”

With that, she held a photo up to the screen. “Remember?” she asked. “The 40th birthday party I threw for you? I was so proud I could pay for it myself. You were skinny then. Your hair was long. A beauty.”

“So you loved 65 because I looked good?” I asked. Another familiar theme: Mom concerned that pudginess could thwart chances at my happiness. I changed the subject. “What about you, Mom? Other than the party, was that a good year for you?”

“Well, your father had been dead -- by the way, he says ‘hello’ -- for 20 years so I was free of worrying about his health and when he would drop dead and make me a widow. And to be honest, widowhood wasn’t so bad. I should have stuck to it rather than...”

“Oh yes, your awful second marriage.”

“That’s been deleted from my file,” she said. “Like it never happened.”

“Boy, you’ve got it good up there,” I said. “You get to choose your age, erase bad experiences, not so bad. Of course, there’s the part about missing us down here on earth, and not being in on the good things that happen here.”

“What are you talking?” she asked. “I’ve got a ringside seat. Nothing gets by me. I’ve seen every show my granddaughters put on. And, you can tell them for me, I’d prefer a little more decent language. I see my great grandchildren. In fact, I keep an eye on them when your girls turn their backs. If I see something important, I give Faith and Jill a knock in the head that makes them turn around.”

“Wow, thanks, Mom! So, I don’t have to worry about them every minute of the day?”

“I’ve got you covered,” she said. She laughed; the iPad shook. It was great to see her happy.

“So, listen Mom, I called to wish you a Happy Birthday -- 65, 99, whatever...”

“Shush,” she said. “99, never. That’s for old people.”

“Oh yes, I remember your telling me you would never want to grow old. Couldn’t stand seeing people in walkers, shrinking, wrinkles. You said it wasn’t for you. And when you did, um, die at 68, you had none of those infirmities. You went out gorgeous as ever.”

I continued. “Before I hang up, I need to know what you’d like as a present. It’ll be virtual, but I want it to be something you’d enjoy.”

“Hmm, I’m thinking,” she said. She closed her eyes, put her manicured fingernail to her red lips, and continued with “hmm.”

“I’ve got it,” she said. “An Apple gift card. Steve gave me a tip that the iPhone5 is coming out soon, and I can use it for that.”

“Steve? Jobs? You’re friends with him?” I asked.

“I’ve still got the looks,” she said. She was offended again. But then she waved a hand to dismiss my question. “Steve’s impressed I know the lingo.”

“OK, Mom, no problem. In a few minutes look in your iCloud, and the gift card will be there,” I said. “Happy Birthday! Love you!”

“Love you, too!” she said. Then our screens went dark.

A Taste of the Apple

It was my last day. My letter of resignation had been accepted by the store manager. I had already removed my name tag from the cord I wore around my neck. The blue t-shirts with white logo were on a pile in the recycling box. I emptied my locker of business cards no longer valid. Now, it was time to say goodbye to a job I had coveted for more than 6 years, a dream job I felt incredibly fortunate to have won.

I opened the door that led from “back of the house” to retail and found myself staring at staffers lined up on either side of the product displays. An Apple tradition for all departing members, my coworkers were clapping and smiling as I slowly inched down the gauntlet. Customers, who had never before witnessed this leave-taking, looked to each other to figure out what this older woman had done to deserve such treatment. Those that had previously seen an Apple goodbye, joined in the applause.

As for me, I cried. From the rear to the front, I cried. I paused to hug team members who had welcomed this woman -- old enough to be their mother or grandmother -- to the Apple store in Old Orchard. These “kids” who had listened patiently whenever I raced to their side, pulled on an elbow, and asked, "How do we...? What do you suggest..." or other questions.

Now, rewind the scene to three months earlier when I first learned my application, audition at a recruitment event, and responses during three interviews, won me a spot. When I received that phone call, I believed I was the luckiest woman alive. Imagine, to work in a wonderland of iMacs, iPods, iPhones, iPads; to learn the credo and policies, to understand the lingo; to wear the blue t-shirt.

Mind you, I have had impressive jobs in the past. I was a press aide to a Chicago mayor (Jane Byrne), a communications director for a Chicago school superintendent (Ruth Love), an account exec at a prestigious public affairs firm (Jasculca/Terman), and owner of my own public relations business until I retired to write a memoir. But none of those posts filled me with the awe I felt at becoming an Apple Specialist.

And as I suspected, I loved the job. Selling was easy because I truly believed (still do) that Apple products are superior to its peers. I relished taking customers on "test drives" and showing them how to operate the computers and mobile devices. Older customers were my specialty because I was able to say, "if I can do it, you can, too." They would stare at my grey hair and be willing to listen to my enthusiastic spiel.

So, why did I leave Apple? Because when talking to business customers, I found myself asking, “so, how are you promoting your company?” I couldn’t stop my PR background from leaking out. I realized I missed being my own boss, and decided I wanted to take another stab.

So, after exiting Apple, I re-entered entrepreneurship. I printed business cards, announced the launching of Elaine Soloway Public Relations, built my own simple web site, wrote blogs, and became active on Facebook. I hired myself to promote my business, and used the hook, “Is It Risky to Reveal My Age.” Amazingly, that pitch garnered an almost immediate story in the Chicago Tribune.

While the column brought me attention and business (PR works!), more importantly, it proved I did know a good story when I saw it, I could write an effective pitch letter, and that relationships cultivated through social media could help get my e-mails opened.

ESPR is over a year old now and I’m proud to say I manage a handful of clients -- just enough for this small shop to handle, and enough to supplement income drained away when the economy did a nose dive.

But, coupled with the satisfaction I had made the right decision in leaving Apple, is the feeling of nostalgia whenever I enter its stores. When I visit North Michigan Avenue or North Avenue, it takes me a minute to reveal, “you know, I once worked at Apple.” And, if I’m in the Old Orchard mall, my visit isn’t complete until I head to my old home, pull on the elbows of former coworkers, and win hugs.

Happily, the kids haven’t forgotten me. As for this former Apple Specialist, I’ll never forget them, my blue logo t-shirt, and the best job I ever had.

One-Man Band: How Apple helps this solo player keep up the rhythm

Although I don't simultaneously use my hands, feet, limbs, and various mechanical contraptions to play music, I do like the imagery of a one-man band to help explain how my Apple devices boost my ability to get a lot of stuff done no matter my locale.

First, let me define "stuff," lest you think I spend my time watching videos or playing Angry Birds, which by the way, I still haven't figured out how to do.

My stuff falls into three categories: work related, social media, and personal.

Let's start with the one that pays my bills and allows me to purchase the aforementioned Apples.

Work

Since Apple and Microsoft are rivals, Apple prefers that its users turn to its iWork suite of programs, rather than Office. I'm aware you can use Office for Mac, but if you have "drunk the Koolaid" - a reference to loyalists' adherence to all things Apple -- like me, you'll want to embrace the whole megillah.

If you do, you can draft a news release, feature story or pitch letter (that's my business) using the Pages word processing program on your desktop Mac. Then open iCloud on Safari or Firefox (my favorite browsers) and drag the file onto the iWork website. Miraculously, when you open Pages on your iPhone, iPod Touch, or iPad, your draft will appear right there.

The process is even easier on the mobile devices because when you create or edit that piece on your iPad (my preferred mobile), it automatically travels to iCloud; no dragging needed.

Now, before you interrupt to tell me Microsoft Word is demanded by your correspondents, let me put your mind at ease: While in Pages, you have the option to send documents as Word files. And you also can open documents that have been sent to you in Word by converting them to Pages.

So although Apple and Microsoft seem to turn their backs on one another, in truth, they swivel, shake hands, and play nice.

Social Media

While I have many friends who vow they'd never use Facebook and can't fathom why anyone would we interested in what they ate for dinner, those of us faithful to the site, feel otherwise, particularly if you're in Public Relations like I am.

Apple's mobile devices enable me to update Facebook (Twitter and LinkedIn, too) whenever I have a spare moment. Either through it's App or via its page on Safari, I can update or link while I'm waiting for any number of tardy appointments, spouse pickups, or during TV commercials.

Personal

Because I check my email on my iPhone or iPad, I'm alerted to upcoming bills or sales at my favorite shops. I did all of my holiday shopping online (Zappos, J. Crew, Amazon, Harry Potter merchandise) prone on my couch. Believe me, I wanted to do all of this gift buying at local stores, but $10 shipping fees discouraged me. Be assured, if the item is staying in the city, I buy local, small business all the way.

Go for a test drive.

If you're still not persuaded Apple can help you perform like a one-man band, take a test drive at one of their brick-and-mortar stores. Also, sit in on the free workshops offered at all locations. Once equipped with your own rhythm section, play on!

Turning to Tech to Explain the High Holidays

If you're Jewish like me (more cultural than religious), or are a non-Jew who wonders why your Jewish coworkers disappear on various September and October days, today's post turns to technology for enlightenment.

iPhone users can download a $0.99 App titled, "Jewish Days." This application can help you remember when the Jewish holidays occur and what each one means.

Here's their quickie explanation of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kipper, which are commonly referred to as the High Holidays or the Jewish New Year.

Rosh Hashanah, which begins the evening of September 28, is the start of the civil year in the Hebrew calendar. It is a new year for people, animals, and legal contracts and it commemorates the creation of man.

Yom Kippur, which begins the evening of October 7, is also known as the Day of Atonement. According to the Jewish Days app, it is the most solemn and important of the Jewish holidays. Its central themes are atonement and repentance. Jews traditionally observe this holy day with a 25-hour period of fasting and intensive prayer, often spending most of the day in synagogue services.

For many children, the most beloved portion of the synagogue service during the High Holidays is the blowing of the Shofar, a ram's horn. An iPhone App, also priced at $0.99, called "Shofar Hero" contains the four kinds of ritual blasts. FYI: The blowing of the Shofar is the only specific commandment for Rosh Hashanah. Just as trumpeters announced the presence of their mortal king, the Shofar is used by Jews to proclaim the coronation of the King of Kings.

Another $0.99 App, called "Synagogues Finder" uses your current location to identify houses of worship nearest your home. So if you haven't gotten a seat lined up for the High Holidays, check out this helpful listing.

Not to worry if you're sans iPhone. You can turn to the Internet for even more information about the High Holidays. Holidays.net outlines "entertainment and some fun Holiday things for you and your family." The site includes stories of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, a Shofar to blow, some holiday recipes, and even pictures for the kids to print and color.

JewishFaq provides instructions (when to light the candles and when to drink the wine, for instance) and prayers for the holidays. The website includes both the Hebrew and English wording for each prayer.

My Jewish Learning is a great site for All Things Jewish. Here, you can explore more about the High Holidays and read an article, "Jewish Husbands, Jewish Wives, and Jewish Partners." You may feel compelled to comment.

The Jewish iPhone Community's goal it to make easy to find Jewish mobile applications. It creates a virtual community of users of mobile device; i.e. iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

I hope all of the above clears up some of the mystery about the High Holidays. But, if you're still fuzzy, and want a deeper investigation, you could point your mouse to amazon.com where you'll find a thorough listing of Jewish books.

And while you're on that site, don't forget to check out "The Division Street Princess," a sweet memoir about growing up in Jewish Chicago during the 1940's.

You didn't think you'd get away without a commercial, did you?

iJealousy

I was awoken by the sound of sobbing.

I reached for my eyeglasses and looked around the bedroom to find the source of the disturbance. Husband was on his side, fast asleep. Not him. Dog was at the draped windows. Flat. Not him.

Then, I looked to my left, to the bedside table where my Apple devices were plugged into their chargers. A tiny pool of water, likely caused by tears, surrounded the iPhone 3G.

“Sweetheart,” I said, as I unplugged the old phone. “What’s the problem?”

“You love her more than me,” she said. It wasn't true; the phone’s service was disconnected, but she was perfectly serviceable as an iPod and sleep timer. I made sure I frequently let her know of my appreciation. 3G was listing to the left, hinting to where my iPad was tucked under its lime green cover.

“No, no, you’re wrong,” I said to her. “It’s new, that’s why....”

“What’s all this racket?” It was the iPad who suddenly flung open its magnetic shield.

“Oh, it’s that baby again,” he said. “All night long, sniffing and crying. I can’t believe you can sleep through all that mishegas.”

3G did have a whiny tone. “I used to be your favorite,” she stammered between sobs. “Remember when you first got me? No one could pry me from your hands. Oh, we had wonderful times together. Then, you had to go and replace me with the 4 and left me up here by myself. Did I complain? Now...”

3G was interrupted by PowerBook G4 who previously sat quietly on the makeshift desk in the bedroom. Its cover stood upright, the screen lit. “For christ sake, a computer can’t get a decent sleep in this place. Green lights, red lights, and now all that blubbering.”

“Just because you’re a computer, don’t think you’re such a smarty.” It was the iPad who now sidled up next to the 3G. “We can do most of the stuff you do. And you’re an old fart; don’t even have Intel. Why should we listen to you?”

It was time to mollify this crowd. “Listen everyone,” I said. “I love you all. Even though I may not use you all day, that doesn’t mean my affection has waned in any way. But I promise to be more sensitive to your feelings.”

Unable to fall back asleep, despite dear 3G offering to lull me with my playlist, I plugged all back into their chargers and went downstairs to the kitchen to see if a glass of milk could knock me out.

A tumult was underway on the first floor. Desktop iMac in my home office had been eavesdropping (we have a network) and was attempting to loosen its cords to join the fray upstairs. iPhone4 was doing her best to restrain him.

“You want to talk about abandonment,” iMac shouted. The router shook. “I’m stuck inside the house 12 months of the year, 24/7. At least the rest of you are mobile! You get out; you see things. You’re not forced to stare at four walls, window blinds, and these stupid reproductions she calls art.”

Now it was iPhone4’s turn: “Just because I’m mobile it doesn’t mean she pays any attention to me. Ever since she got that, ugh, iPad, she’s been complaining her fingers are too thick for my keyboard.”

“Enough already!” I said. “I can’t take it. All day long I move from one Apple to another just to keep all of you happy, yet you’re still complaining. Please, let me get some peace.”

I crept from my home office and flopped on the living room couch. Once everyone quieted down, I fell back asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, a vision appeared. It was the 13” Mac Air -- saucy, winking at me, cooing, “Oh darling, ....”

Ah yes, I remember it well

In my previous life – BSJ – my office desk, computer, bathroom mirror, and other surfaces were covered with Post-It Notes.

Some To-Do’s were vital; i.e. Send invoice to client. Others, mundane, as in Laundry. And still others, pathetic: No ice cream!

Then, the sky opened, sunlight filled the continent, and Steve Jobs ordered, "Thou shalt have Macs." Suddenly, ancient tree products and writing instruments were old hat, and programs or applications available on Apple computers, iPhones, iPods, and iPads replaced all of those Pitman-penmanship stickies.

Because #1 on my current To Do list reads, Play nice and share, I've decided to offer you a few apps and web sites that might come to your rescue. They’re likely available on non-Apple devices, but why go there?

1) Awesome Note Lite is a free Apple app that reviewers consider "ten times better" than Notes, Apple‘s default program. The same critic sniffs that the Notes application is very limited, and "Awesome Notes is a worthy solution and replacement for it."

He (oh, I'm sure it's a "he") says the biggest difference between Apple's Notes and Awesome Notes is that the latter allows you to organize your notes into folders. He says a bunch of other stuff, which you can find on the app's own page in the App store.

2) Evernote is my current favorite in this productivity category. Like the above, it's free and it's heralded for "turning the iPhone, iPod Touch and iPad into an extension of your brain, helping you remember anything and everything that happens in your life." You can save notes, ideas, snapshots, and recordings and the material instantly synchronizes across your devices. I like its ability to send yourself an e-mail, which I do to further remind me that I have a reminder. Oy,

3) Remember the Milk is a long-time free app that also travels between Apple products. It has an online service that syncs, and it can send reminders via email, SMS (Short Message Service), and instant messenger.

4) ReQall is free and useful when you don’t have time to write down an idea or reminder. Just tap the ReQall app and speak or type whatever you want to remember. ReQall can send you a reminder via voice, text message, instant message, email, or calendar alert.

5) Despite what the defamer said in Option 1, I still think Apple's Notes, which lives on the Home page of your iPhone, iPod, or iPad, is a useful list-maker. It automatically syncs to your Mobile Me mail account, and you can manually e-mail your lists (you can make as many as you want) to your other e-mail services. Naturally, it's free.

Now, with my publication of this post, I can perform a step that is the beauty part of every reminder and list-making service. I can check off, "Write blog on remembering." Done!

Still working, after all these years

Startled, I woke to find my iPad lighting up and levitating. That could only mean one thing. One of my parents, in their 24/7 heavenly abodes, was trying to reach me.

I sat up, unplugged the device from its charger, rested it on my knees, and opened its lime green magnetic cover. Sure enough, via FaceTime, it was my father.

“I tried to reach Ronnie first to congratulate him,” Dad said, “but I don’t think he’s got his WiFi connected yet.”

How I love FaceTime and its ability to display visages of callers -- no matter their celestial locale.

“Did you hear? Ronnie’s sold seven Toyota's, and he’s been working at the dealership less than a month,” Dad said. My father’s face was beaming nearly as much as my Apple device.

For this morning’s phone call, Dad elected to show his circa 1950’s face. That’s the one he wore after he sold the grocery store and was working as a salesman for a meat company. He wore three-piece suits to work -- no more bloody aprons -- a classic Stetson, and his black hair and mustache were slick and neat.

I was about to agree with Dad’s enthusiasm over my brother’s feat, when the FaceTime screen suddenly split in two and up popped Mom’s face.

“What’s so great about him still working in his 70’s?” Mom said. She looked as pretty as ever and like Dad, she had shucked her store apron and was garbed in a shirtwaist dress and high heels -- her attire post-store when she was a switchboard operator at American Linen Supply.

“He should be relaxing on some beach, playing golf, enjoying life, not working 9 to 5," she said. Now, the smile and screen dimmed.

I heard Dad sigh, so I took over. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “I’m still working in my 70’s, too. Both Ronnie and I have been forced to keep going because the economy hurt both of us.”

A laugh from Dad. “Hah, knowing you two, I don’t see a beach in your future. Admit it, you and your brother like working. You like keeping busy, earning a paycheck, kibitzing with coworkers and customers. Don’t tell me different,” he said. “I remember you two in the store. You loved helping out.”

Now it was Mom’s turn to sigh. “Loved? What was there to love? Slaving all day behind a counter. Watching our customers go across the street to the supermarket while they had debts with us? What was fun about that?”

“Look at all the odd jobs our kids had,” Dad said in profile to Mom. “That proves they were hard workers. Remember Sammy’s Red Hots for Ronnie, and his Hawaiian photography business?”

Mom gave a harrumph. “Don’t forget your daughter’s Gap and Apple sidetracks,” she said. “Although I do like these goodies she sent us from the Apple store.” My iPad momentarily rose as I imagined my mother holding it aloft for emphasis.

“Can I speak?” I interrupted. “You’re right. Ronnie and I did inherit some of your entrepreneurial spirit. So maybe we do like working rather than relaxing.”

I saw Dad shake his head. “Oy,” he said, putting a palm to his face. “Even though you say you enjoy working, it’s hard to see you two hit by a rotten economy, just like we were in the ‘40s. Outside forces...”

Mom interrupted. “Outside forces, shmoutside forces. Irv, you're forever blaming supermarkets for our store's collapse. Sure, some of the problems we can blame on them, but give it up already. Admit it - you were a lousy manager."

Dad looked sheepish. He was likely recalling the time spent in the pool hall rather than in the back of the store paying bills.

"And the bookies?" she continued. I stopped her there.

"Listen you two, you're wasting battery life bickering. Let's just call it a draw. You're both right; forces beyond our control bounced Ronnie and me back to the workplace. But, I'm sure he'll admit nothing feels better than making a sale. And I'll own up to delight in scoring a new client. Satisfied?"

Smiles from both. And with that, my iPad's screen faded and my parents disappeared.

Lying back on the pillow, I fell quickly back to sleep. Or…