Give up all hope of peace so long as your mother-in-law is alive.
~Juvenal
My mother-in-law was from the “old country.” Her knowledge of modern technology was, to be polite, limited. Very limited. Just about nonexistent. She was perfectly capable of understanding how to use these newfangled devices, but she had no interest in learning. She was content with the old ways. They had worked for her for years, so please don’t try to show her any new contraptions, even if they would make her life easier. Her mind was made up, and she knew she was right.
She did love watching television and didn’t ever want to miss her special shows, so she mastered the on-and-off switch and channel-selector dial very quickly. But forget about teaching her to use the remote control. We tried so that she wouldn’t have to get up each time she wanted to change the channel. It was a lost cause.
My family and I were into technology. We had computers, cell phones, fancy TVs — all the latest things. And, oh my goodness, we even had a machine that answered our phone and recorded messages for us when we were out. What a novel idea! We told my mother-in-law about the answering machine, showed it to her and explained how it worked. Over and over. We played the greeting for her that I had recorded. It was such a pleasant greeting. Good luck with that! She just looked confused. The concept didn’t register. She couldn’t figure it out.
My mother-in-law would call our house and, if we were out, my voice would greet her and ask her to leave a message. That was the first problem. She wasn’t absolutely delighted with me in the first place because I had married her son. Truth be told, she wouldn’t have thought anyone was good enough for him, so I tried not to take her attitude too personally. But now she liked me even less. She felt that I was being very rude and insulting to her when I answered the phone but wouldn’t talk. And why did I tell her to leave a message? Why didn’t I just talk to her?
Here’s something else about my mother-in-law that is important to understand: When she would call at night and we were not home — and if we had forgotten to tell her we wouldn’t be home — that meant something was terribly wrong. She knew we were all dead. In a ditch. Or we were in the hospital having major surgery and were not expected to live. Or we were lost in the mountains without food or water, and we were going to freeze to death. Couldn’t we just be out to dinner, or at a party with friends, or at a movie? No way.
So when she would call and get our answering machine, she would freak out. And how did we know this? We would listen to her messages when we got home.
“Hello, Barbara. I want to tell you that Aunt Rose called.” (Long pause.)
“Barbara? Hello? Can you hear me?” (Longer pause.)
“Barbara! Don’t you care? Talk to me. Well!”
And then she’d hang up and call right back.
“Hello? HELLO?? HELLO! Barbara? BAR-BAR-A!! I know you are there. I can hear your voice. Why don’t you talk to me? Well!”
When my name turned into three syllables, I knew I was in trouble.
The best part is when she would decide that our number was not working correctly and have the operator try to call. Wow, would she get mad. Poor operator. When we would come home and listen to our messages, we could hear the entire conversation.
“Madam, there is nothing wrong with this number.”
“Then why can’t I talk to them?”
“I’m sorry, Madam. I don’t think they are at home.”
“Then why does my daughter-in-law answer the phone? She’s there.”
“Ma’am, that’s their answering machine. It’s a tape. It’s just her voice.”
“What do you mean? A tape? Why is her voice on a tape? I know she’s there.”
“Ma’am, they have a machine that answers the phone when they’re not home.”
“How is that possible? I know they are there, and they’re just not talking.”
“LISTEN, LADY. Leave them a message. There is nothing I can do.”
“Well, you have some nerve talking to an old lady like that!”
You get the picture. There was just no way for her to grasp the concept and understand this type of technology. When we would get home, listen to our messages and call her back, she would tell us there was something wrong with our phone, and that she had to call the operator to help her. Then she would berate the operator for not doing her job and not being able to get her call through to us because she knew we were there. Of course, she knew I was there because I had answered the phone!
My mother-in-law is no longer with us. She never, ever did understand the concept of an answering machine, and we stopped trying to explain it to her. She never, ever completely forgave me for marrying her son either, but she and I did eventually make our own kind of peace. And now every time I hear my own voice on my answering-machine tape, I remember those messages she would leave, and it makes me smile.
~Barbara LoMonaco
