| RICK MILLS: Eavesdropping On The World - And Closer (Dec 11) |
|
|
|
|
I was destined to get hooked on Twitter 30-plus years before it was invented.
Many a night I’d climb into a dark 1972 Chevrolet with my father and younger brother to hear what was going on in the neighborhood. “Breaker-12,” my brother would speak into the night. “Anyone have a radio check?” Around the CB dial he’d turn, stopping at any hint of strong local signals; we were looking to eavesdrop on our rural neighbors as they rag chewed the night away. I was more the CB voyeur, although I didn’t know it yet. Years later, now in Elwell, I’d spend unjustified amounts of time and money assembling a CB base station, complete with a dipole antenna 40 feet in the air. Turns out, I wasn’t much of a talker. Sure, I joined in on occasion. But mostly I was hooked on the radio part, the technology, the ability to communicate wirelessly. And so I listened. I listened to people I didn’t know talking about things I didn’t care about. Because I could, that’s why. Then I took another leap. Ham radio was the ticket. So I bought a study guide, prepared for the test and got my amateur radio license. Ham equipment is even more expensive than CB. I spent enough that it still sparks the occasional wifely comment, all these years later. I listened. Never talked, or hardly ever talked. Just listened. Now those ham radios - a mobile and a handheld - have long been tuned to Isabella County Central Dispatch. They’re essentially very fancy, very high-powered and expensive police scanners. But I can talk on them, both of them. If I want to. I choose not to. Then came Twitter. I derided Twitter. I hated Twitter. Nothing meaningful could be said in 140 characters or less. And only narcissistic self-absorbed jerks would spend their time tweeting to random strangers and collecting followers like they mattered. But a few weeks back I dipped a toe in the Twitter water. I’ve been swimming in the Twitter pool ever since. For those of you yet to join the revolution, Twitter is officially described as a social media and microblogging site. More practically, it’s a place to share anything about anything with anyone. Instantly. Man, the things I know; the things I read; the things I see. It’s fun. Twitter is addicting. Sitting at my desk, or in my easy chair, I’m back in the front seat of that old Chevy, eavesdropping on the world. But it’s more than that. As anyone who’s read about recent revolts, revolutions or grassroots uprisings knows, Twitter is changing the world - or at least providing the communication mechanism allowing it to be changed. It was on Twitter that I first learned Gaddafi was dead and that the East Coast was getting smacked with a snowstorm last weekend, among other things. Twitter is also where I’ve learned that a certain CMU coed is too young to settle, that a guy in Columbus, Ohio, doesn’t like juice on ice and that The Poet, a beer from Holland, is tasty. See, I didn’t need to know that last stuff. But know it, I do. Yes, indeed - I find Twitter addicting; enough so that I must control myself. It’s a valuable tool, a real-time look at what’s going on anywhere in the world. You choose whom you monitor, and you can do so by topic, location or other criteria. These days, Twitter really is where you’ll hear things first. We’ve heard local, state, national and worldwide news there first. In most cases, it’s also where we report news first, especially big or breaking stories. But be careful. In my living room, I’ve found myself mindlessly scanning random rambling of people I don’t know talking about things I don’t care about. Then I look around the living room and find my loving family there. Breaker 1-9. Tweet in moderation. Some things are still far more important than the ramblings of random strangers. |






Radio News


