Is this thing on?

When I lived in Leaside, a patch of Toronto on the north-east side, I once strung a tin-can telephone across to the neighbour's kid's house, and we talked shouted at each other from the upstairs windows. We seldom actually got to see the kids next door, partly because their house was on the corner. We had no common views except across from the bathroom and bedroom windows 14 feet above the driveway.

Of course it wasn't difficult to understand the party to whom you were connected over this primitive instrument. The clarity came from the volume it took to speak into the can: you could be heard without using the device anyway. But that did not diminish our pleasure in pretending to hear by holding the can up. When you wanted to talk, you took the can away from your ear, which the other person (15 feet away) would notice and stop talking. Positions were changed, and you had your say.

Today I had the pleasure of a free conversation with my younger son (YS) who lives in western Canada. We talked for an hour and ten minutes about this and that, sharing a common interest in all things technological.

We used Skype, a free Internet telephony program that uses peer-to-peer networking to provide crystal-clear communication. Recently, they added video. YS has a Mac computer with a built-in video (eyeball) camera. Since I don't, it was two-way audio and one-way video.

I was thrilled by the quality of the video. I can't remember when the last time was that I saw YS, but today there he was, older, more mature, and definitely better looking than The Old Guy. And since the camera is almost at eye level, it gave me the distinct impression of being there in the room with him.

Everything was so natural. It seemed as though we were just picking up where we left off. Well, at least he was picking up his laundry, actually, and putting it in the washer, thanks to an exceptionally long headset cord.

I now have made a strong resolution that when I have a chance this week, I'm off to buy one of these miraculous little eyeballs and affix it firmly to my monitor, so that, for better or worse, he can see me when we Skype.

Back in the day, when YS was nearly brand new, we had a video camera that I bought used from some person who had moved up from it to a better, lighter model. This thing weighed at least 10 pounds, had a black & white viewfinder and a battery that lasted for a full half hour after charging for twelve. If you moved too fast, or your subject did, the image would be blurred and cloudy. The color was weak and pastel, which was a great disappointment to those of us who had grown up with the exotic reds and mystic blues of Kodachrome movie film. But it had what no other of my previous film gear had: sound!

The camera recorded some amazing times, including first days at school, birthday parties and the secular and the sacred. Eventually it was superceded by an S-VHS subcompact camera that boasted a much clearer picture. In a few years, it too was relegated to a cupboard, and since there were no moving objects (kids) to record, it was replaced by a digital still camera.

It seems to me that the web-based camera is the ideal marriage of both technologies. My sons and I are older now, separated by considerable linear geography, but still having many things in common.

It was good to see YS, and perhaps in the not too distant future I will see OS again, when he gets his gear working. In fact, I bet that even if we all lived next door to each other, we'd use webcams to communicate. Except on special occasions, like when the power was off.