Joyce and I got to laughing last night about how-to-do-it videos on YouTube. I forget how the conversation started, but start it did. As did the laughter. We were not, by the way, laughing at the videos; we were laughing at ourselves.
First ... a memory ... A few years ago, the Dyers were gathered in the Berkshires at the old farmhouse my brothers own and use for weekends and holidays (they both live in the Boston area). Outside, I saw our son doing a headlamp replacement on their car; he was following along with a YouTube video that showed him how to do it. He did it. It worked. I was impressed--though not enough so that I'd attempt it myself. I know my limits--the sign of ... maturity, right?
But last night Joyce asked me what sort of self-help video I could upload to YouTube. My quick and honest answer was, "Nothing." Then she suggested bread-making. I said that there are probably lots of those out there--and I don't even know if I'm doing it "right"; I just do what I've done for decades, modifying now and then along the way. A trial-and-error strategy. A professional baker would probably watch me for thirty seconds and click away to see kittens playing with a possum.
So we spent some time, Joyce and I, imagining other sorts of videos we could do. Here they are, in no particular order:
1. Unloading the Dishwasher (one of my first-thing-in-the-morning jobs); I'd emphasize such things as being careful with sharp things (like the apple-slicer I used most days), like doing the bottom rack first so that you don't pull out the upper and have water drip on the lower things. Useful, eh?
2. Wheeling the Trash Cans Out to the Curb (one of Joyce's self-assigned tasks). She'd probably talk about the extra care to take in the snow, how to avoid hitting your car as you roll past, etc. How to re-aim an outside car mirror you've just hit.
3. How to Keep an Omelet from Sticking to the Pan. I used to have no trouble with this--made omelets every week for years. Then--about a month ago--eggs started sticking, and we ended up with scrambled eggs instead. (I took it very well--maturing, you know.) So ... as soon as I figure out why this has started happening, I will do the video. And share.
4. How to Get Open a Popsicle Wrapper. Joyce loves Popsicles (okay, so do I), and we usually have one (okay more) each night (sugar-free, natch) in bed--something to enjoy while we're streaming some Brit cop show. Joyce will shoot and post this video as soon as she figures out how to remove the wrappers (often, this becomes my job). Her video will probably feature scissors. But I'm just guessing.
There are many other videos we could make--dealing with the quotidian and the quirky. But I think by now you have inferred the extent (?) of our "skills."
At Hiram High School I had a history teacher who used to say that college professors didn't have any "practical knowledge"; that annoyed me then (my dad was a prof--and my mom would be one). But now ... I would have to append something: "The children of college professors have no practical knowledge."
Maybe I'll make an upload a video about it? First, though, I'll have to watch a video about how to shoot and upload a video.
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