Jewel's Audio Memory Game - An Android App

My old pal, Vic Douse, has a daughter, Jewel. She loves Disney, balloons, and some video games/apps. She has autism.

Vic works with databases during the day, but at night, he has been very active in the autism community on PEI, serving as president of the Autism Society for years. (He won a Queen's Diamond Jubilee medal for his contributions).

Last winter, he started tinkering around with an Android app, despite not coding for years. The result is a simple memory/match game. The UX is simple, and that's OK: the point is that Jewel likes to play it. It helps her with her vocabulary.

So, check out Jewel's Audio Memory Game on the Play Store. It's free with no ads. Vic is delighted with each download, so please give it a go!

It's actually fun in a nostalgic way. My personal best for the 4x4 grid is 36 seconds, no doubt based on lucky strikes.

Christmas and Bittersweet Sentimentality

Some years back, I was on PEI for Christmas. I was at someone's house and walked into a dimly-lit living room, where a senior was sitting alone in the glow of tree lights, listening to old Christmas tunes, like my beloved Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters.

The woman looked up at me, smiled softy, and said, "I listen to old Christmas music because it makes me sad".

It was one of the most insightful, pure statements I've ever heard. This woman was not well, had lost friends and relatives over the years, and was no doubt reflecting on old times. What better trigger for the "good old days" than music?

And yet in the present day, life was relatively good. People were home for Christmas, and there was lots of food, gifts, and merriment. But this is not about being unable to enjoy Christmas. It would be all-too-easy to write of depression, unsubstantiated statistics about suicide, and so on. But that is simply misplaced.

I love her phrase, because of the nuance. This person chose to listen to the music, and chose to go into that bittersweet reflective mood. In a way, she enjoyed it.

I'm not sure I've captured the moment here. Maybe it is the same notion as expressed in Auld Lang Syne. I don't know. But it was a wonderful moment, and I'll never forget it.