Cordless: (adj) requiring no wire
Comparing my pioneer spirit using the examples of those who trekked West in the mid-1800’s, I would definitely let you know that I am not one of the people dressed in buckskin, who is way out in front of the Conestoga Wagons, killing buffalo and tracking beaver.
That’s not me.
Honestly, you probably would not find me in the first wave that hopped onto those wagon-beds and went off into nothingness, with nearly nothing in their possession, believing they were going to turn it into something.
In the realm of being adventurous, I would probably be the schoolmarm. In other words, once others had gone ahead, tracked the buffalo, taken their wagons and opened up a town, I would be willing to join them to teach their children the ABC’s.
I prefaced this article with this example because I want you to understand that when cordless, or wireless, microphones became available, I did not buy one nor did I want to use one.
I heard horror stories.
You know—stuff like buffaloes trampling frontiersmen.
I heard these microphones didn’t work well, the sound went in and out, and even one strange tale about someone nearly being electrocuted.
I persisted with cords in my microphones until one day, in a store, a guy explained to me that he had come up with a system to turn any microphone into a cordless one simply by attaching some ugly-ass apparatus on the bottom.
With my schoolmarm enthusiasm, I got one.
I used it in a production—and it lived up to all of its hype, and also manifested all of its demons. Even though the small-town audience was very impressed at seeing a cordless mic at work, when the play was through, I sold it.
I may have to revise my statement.
Maybe I’m not as wild and crazy as I think. Perhaps I am not the schoolmarm.
In the vast spectrum of the American Western, I would probably be the town undertaker.