My mother gave me a flash back yesterday. She called me to come from out of my comfortable position on the couch, walk all the way upstairs and turn off her lamp. Wow! I thought to myself. It reminded me of a story my dad used to tell me. Well, perhaps it was more of a lecture than a story. It went something like this: "Juanita, I know you're not whining because I told you to get the remote off the top of the TV. Back when I was a kid my mom would call me from upstairs. I would have to stop playing and walk all the way downstairs to change the channel for her. Then, I had to stand there, and keep turning the knob until I found something she liked." Now, when my dad was a kid, remote controls and color TVs did exist. But he says that he was so poor that they had a black & white TV and no remote. (He was a black kid in North Philadelphia, from the projects, with no father in his life, so he's probably telling the truth). Well anyway, I broke the news to my children