Monthly Archives: March 2025

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Now, you’ve heard me whine about technology in the past. Probably louder whines come from any of the people who must deal with me on a technological level. But I have decided that this is too bad. People will have to accept me with all of my technological deficiencies.

My daughter spent a few days with me recently and while I used to call these family visits, I’ve decided I should just call them what they are: service calls from my IT person.

I was working with my e-mail (my lifeline for any work I do) when I received notice that I would have to undertake a procedure to make the email more secure. Oh lord! I immediately shot back a panicked notice to the tech person who had alerted me to this problem: Do I HAVE to do this???

Something in my grunting and profuse sweating set off the alarm bells in my daughter. Without asking me too many questions, she contacted the tech people (who obviously had no idea the low level of tech they were dealing with) and when she was done, the new level of security was no problem. The only difficulty I had left was the extra “app” I had managed to load on my phone that it turns out I didn’t need. I still have it because I hated to admit to her how completely I had screwed up, and I have no idea how to “unload” it. (I don’t think that’s the right reference.)

Moving right along, she noticed that I have a brand-new DVD player (it’s not a VCR player, but I frequently call it that). She asked if I was enjoying using it and I said, “I don’t know. There’s something wrong with my cable service and I can’t switch from the cable channels to the DVD player setup and back again. I’m going to call them and get them down here to straighten that out.”

While I was ranting and raving on that topic, she began randomly switching from cable to the DVD player and back to the cable. “How are you doing that?” I demanded, forgetting that I should probably be grateful that I hadn’t called a cable guy down to my house for a simple switch of a button on the remote.

“It’s simple,” she explained more patiently than she should have, “You were just pushing the wrong button. This one will handle it for you.”

She looked awfully smug for a woman who once depended on me for food, clean pants and support while she learned to walk. Could it be that this is payback for my ineptitude at dealing with those things?

Technology experts surround me: they are called “anyone younger than me.” I break into a cold sweat if I have to go online to do anything—I can barely deal with business over the telephone. Some people zip onto the online programs, do whatever they need to, effortlessly and zoom on to something else. Me? It took my two-year-old grandson to show me that there was an outside button to get in the trunk of my car!

I find some kindred spirits among those my own age, but I also find some older people who can actually handle all that technology and age as well. In my jealousy, I refer to them as turncoats. The least they could do is act like they can’t use technology; then I would feel better.

I keep reminding myself that these young tech wizards grew up with computers while my first experience with a computer was the giant one filling a room at college. They gave me a bunch of cards, which, after I punched the appropriate holes in them…caused the computer to spit out a piece of paper with a short, wavy line on it. This was indeed, the sum total of my technology skills and they haven’t increased much since then!

As for the technology it took to secure my email, I assure you it’s now in place and all of you tech types who got that done have my undying gratitude and my confession that I have no idea how you did it! And the caution that this is not likely to change! Sorry!

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I was in the grocery store the other day, picking up a few of the items I knew I needed at home. Towards the end of the store, I took stock of what I had bought: I had two bottles of tea, three cartons of cottage cheese, a bag of chips, bananas and strawberries, a loaf of bread and three different kinds of soup. There was scarcely enough room for the eggs and orange juice that I picked up last. I thought perhaps I should check my list, but of course, I hadn’t brought it with me. That is how I run to the store for one thing and come out with 20.

It isn’t just the grocery store where I do this. The other day, I popped in at the variety store for a spray bottle. I came out with two gallons of vinegar, a couple of packages of dishwasher soap, a bottle of aspirin and two birthday cards. I even managed to remember the spray bottle, but that isn’t always what happens.

I recently needed a new pair of sneakers. I went to the shoe store and looked over all the sneakers. I found a pair of shoes that I thought were lovely and bought them. Couldn’t wait to get home and show them to Roy.

“What do you think of these shoes?” I asked, modeling them proudly.

“Very nice, but where are the sneakers you went to buy?” he asked.

I thought about it for a moment, then picked up my coat and purse.

“Where are you going now?” he asked.

“Back to the shoe store,” I didn’t need to explain any further. Once again, I bought what I didn’t intend to and as frequently happens, I forgot the thing I was shopping for.

I have a hard time going into a store and not coming out with something I think I absolutely need. I am particularly affected by this disease when it comes to books. I always promise myself I will only buy one…or maybe two, and I find myself coming out with another bagful. It’s so much fun!

When I come home with another shelf of books, I am very defensive. “It could be worse, you know,” I tell Roy as I squeeze another book onto the shelf.

“And how is that?” he responds.

“Well, I don’t collect antiques, which could be expensive, and I don’t drink or smoke or spend all night in bars,” I pointed out.

“Compared to ten books at a time, it might be cheaper if you take up drinking,” was his rather surprising response.

I once went to a craft store (one of my favorite types of stores) and came out of the building without anything. I noticed Roy, waiting in the car, take out his phone and take a picture.

“What are you doing?” I was already frustrated by not finding what I wanted.

“I’m just taking a picture of you coming out of a craft store without anything,” he responded. “I need proof cause otherwise no one will believe it.”

I’d be more upset if he wasn’t right about my spending habits. But by far the worst is definitely the grocery store, which brings me back to my latest spending spree. I brought home all the bags and began unloading them.

“I thought you just went to the store for butter,” Roy said.

I hesitated for a moment and then got my coat and purse and headed out. Maybe this time, with a little luck, I’ll only buy five things and one of them will be butter!

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I have to admit that I am not the best-informed sports fan you would ever encounter. What I know about most sports is that I don’t know much about them. But over the years as a teacher, I learned to pay attention because what’s important to the students is eventually going to be important to the teacher.

While I have watched most football games through my fingers, praying that the guy at the bottom of the pile stood up—usually because he was set to perform with my drama team, and wrestling always makes me twist my program, coat, gloves, whatever I have, into knots just trying to watch, I pride myself on having figured out high school volleyball and basketball—sort of.

The older I get, however, the harder it is to be comfortable sitting on those hard plastic bleachers and so I have worked to become more at ease with little creature comforts.

I learned how important it was to get there early, so you could get a seat at the top and lean against the wall. Those are the prized seats, so they are difficult to get and as the years have gone on, I find my knees don’t care for the climb to the top, anyway.

Then came the innovation of stadium seats. At first, they were simply a canvas bag with a seat and a back—that was helpful. However, I discovered that a quick shift to the side in response to the game would frequently find me upended on the outraged feet of the person behind me as my seat slid off the slippery plastic bleacher. Besides, a bit of canvas between me and the hard, plastic bench was not much of an improvement.

Now I have a fancy, padded seat so I have no contact with the plastic bench and it is pretty good at staying in place and holding up my back, so I don’t need to crawl to the top of the bleachers anymore. That was handy, since I always have to crawl back down for the bathroom and the concession stand.

Watching the games has been a path of discovery for me. The people sitting around me probably get sick of my company since every time a ref blows the whistle, I immediately begin parroting, “Why did they do that? What did they do? What’s going on?” I never could understand the niceties of the rules of the sports, and I have not developed a good relationship with the officials of the games because—well, they are obviously picking on my team!

And that brings me to the giant sewing bag I always carry with me. It has multiple purposes. First, I really like to sew plastic canvas. It’s relatively simple—so I can manage it, and it is just plain fun to do.

Second, because I like plastic canvas, I am frequently working on projects for my drama department as “mementos”. I can spend a lot of the time I am at a game working on those projects and thus, I am doing what the experts say is “multi-tasking.”

And now for the real reason I carry sewing with me to the games. In the past, athletes and students in the stands have politely intimated that I am a little…loud when I am watching the games and having the sewing in my hands tends to keep me calmer…and more polite.

I left the bag at home during a recent basketball contest and found myself making suggestions to the refs—at the top of my lungs. Just minor stuff, like, “Hey ref, are we watching the same game or did your new glasses prescription not get here yet?” Or, “Oh, are you SURE you want to call a foul on the other team? It’s the first time you’ve done it all night!”

So, the sewing is excellent for multiple reasons, but most importantly, it helps me to avoid getting a technical foul on the home team!

All of my teams have completed their seasons, and track is “fast” approaching, so I can probably retire the sewing bag and the stadium seat pretty soon. But it has been a wonderful season, and I would like to thank the athletes of Wolsey-Wessington and Miller for a fine and highly satisfying time—I will have my stadium seat and sewing bag stored and ready for next year!

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I recently had a gentleman ask me a question about my columns that made me stop and think. “Are all those things you write about true?”

The plain answer is that everything I write about is stimulated by something I see, hear, smell, touch or taste during the week. Do I embellish the story for entertainment value? I’d have to say yes—so what I write about is “based on a true story,” as they say in the movies. And, like the movies, I spice it up to make it as entertaining as possible.

I was a very uncertain child, but I learned early that I could tell a story like no other. While sometimes I write fiction for my own entertainment and I have for years written fanciful plays and reader’s theater scripts for my students, most of what I write about here has truth to it.

When I was young, however, I used those story-telling techniques to explain the things I experienced and that happened around me. And if I could find the humor in it, other people were entertained. I had an aunt who told me, “Search for the joy. Things that are not much fun will happen, but if you can find humor, you will find the joy.”

She was right. And to this day, when I slam my fingers in a door or burn the steaks on the grill, or drop a bucket of paint on the steps, I immediately begin thinking, “How can I make this funny and maybe entertain someone else with it?”

I have discovered that this is better mental therapy than hours on a psychiatrist’s couch. There’s something about telling the story of what happened when I washed the red towel with the underwear, so now it’s all pink, that takes away a lot of the sting—for me; Roy didn’t much care for the pink underwear!

I have some guidelines for my writing. I can put what Roy’s already thinking anyway into actual words and that doesn’t bother me. However, I don’t always have to convert his thoughts, he expresses himself very well. For a long time, though, he locked himself into the bathroom to read my column, but years of experience have lessened the stress for him.  Or maybe he’s just resigned himself to his fate!

 Even my grandsons come in for their share. The eldest was reading a column about something he and I had done together, and he looked up a time or two, puzzled, and said, “I don’t think I said it quite like that.” Too bad, kid, your thoughts and actions are fodder for your grandmother’s humor. I go a little easier on my daughters, because someday I will need them to take care of me!

I never write about students. As a teacher, I felt it was not right to use their words and actions in such a way. There should be a level of privacy, and I have tried, over the years, to respect that. They have enough to deal with in putting up with my scripts.

When I started writing for the public, I determined that I was not going to write about politics or religion. It isn’t that I have no opinions on those things, but they are my opinions and, in most cases, not terribly humorous. Besides, I figure the news is scary enough most days, I don’t need to carry it over here when my purpose is to entertain.

And that is my purpose. If I can use something happening in my week as a humorous anecdote and someone who may not be having that great a day, reads it and gets a smile or a scoff or even a laugh, then I am satisfied that I have done what I intended.

I have been writing steadily on a weekly basis since I was 34 years old. To give you a context, my youngest daughter being born was one of the first things I wrote about, and she’s been married and on her own for more than ten years. I’ve written for the Mobridge Tribune, the Aberdeen American News and the Miller Press. I also put this article on a weekly blog. I’m not sure I would know how to function without getting up on Monday morning and thinking, “What shall I write about this week?”

And that brings me to a question I get asked often, “How do you come up with subjects?” I admit to people watching and eavesdropping on conversations in public places. People are fun and fascinating, and they give me great ideas. I carry a notebook all the time to write down those great ideas, because when I tell you I have a terrible memory, I’m not kidding—unfortunately, it has always been so! Suffice it to say, I am seldom without an idea for a column!

Everybody has a gift, and I believe God intends us to use them for any good purpose we can. My gift is the ability to tell a story. And in order to make it more entertaining for people, I definitely spice it up. However, you may be sure that what I am writing is always “based on a true story!”