In the Land of the Blind . . .

While my mom is very capable of handling her own affairs, she turns to each of us when she want assistance with certain aspects of her life.  My brother helped her buy her PT Cruiser and guided her through back surgery and recovery.  My sister taught her to balance a checkbook, more or less, suggested what clothes she should take on her cruise last August and directed her to California Closets when she wanted to remodel her home office space.  And, believe it or not, I am her designated computer expert.  The good news is that you don’t have to know everything to be considered an expert at computers or anything else.  You just have to know more than most of the people around you which, in my case, means my mom, my siblings and many of my over-40 friends.

I got the jump on most people when I was hired by AT&T in the mid 70’s to help design and implement a computer program to measure productivity and develop budgets.  (How I got the job is too complicated to relate besides being irrelevant, although the title of this post gives a partial explanation.)  This was before flat screen monitors, before printers, before laptops and before the internet.  The “computer” was some behemoth in New Jersey that served all of AT&T’s operations.  I had a terminal that looked like a portable typewriter and made a connection by dialing up the main computer and then sticking the telephone handset into the back of my terminal.  Commands I typed in and responses that came back were printed out on the terminal’s roll of paper – if I wanted to print out a multi-page report, I typed in my request and, 3 or 4 days later, the mailman delivered the report.  This was also before pull-down menus, before point-and-click, before cut-and-paste and before user-friendly programs like Excel, PhotoShop and Greeting Card Workshop.  Just printing out a simple list required a whole string of commands after which you typed “:GO:” and hoped you hadn’t made a typo which meant you had to type the whole thing over again.

Shortly after John was born, I left my AT&T job and put my computer skills on hold for awhile.  We were latecomers to the world of home computers as we were to color T.V. (finally, our babysitters demanded one), cell phones (we needed a way to order pizza on the way home from the airport) and Twitter (just kidding.)  Once we did join the tech world, many things I learned back in the 70’s at AT&T came in handy. For example, if you don’t know or can’t remember how to do something, search the computer screen for a clue.  Trial and error is frequently rewarded by success although it can carry some downside risks. (It is not just a false rumor, that, with one simple command which I no longer remember, I did unleash a hidden but deadly cyber force and erased our entire hard drive so thoroughly that the computer consultant couldn’t reinstate it, even with a big bag of floppy disks and CPR.  The idea that stuff you put on a computer sticks around forever is an urban myth.)  I also learned that, if something doesn’t turn out the way you expected it to, look for a typo.  And, if you flat-out have no idea how to do something and are dealing with  people less knowledgeable than you, all you have to say is, “No, it turns out this computer simply can’t do that,”  which isn’t a lie because, in fact, when you are at the keyboard, it can’t.

The one thing I haven’t really gotten good at is dealing with on-line tech support people.  You can tell right away when you’ve hooked into one from somewhere deep in Asia.  They always make me think of my sister’s Chatty Cathy doll – the one where you pulled the ring and she said in a mechanical voice with exaggerated inflections, “Let’s go for a walk” or “I want a cookie.”  When you pull the ring on these phone techs with names like Rex or Bart and they say, “I am so sorry you are having this problem, Jill,” for the eighth time, you know you’re in trouble. 

My 15 years as Development/Communications Director at a small private school gave my computer repertoire and reputation a huge boost.  I found that the old maxim, “if you can read, you can cook” also applies to understanding much of the current computer software, especially if you have the back-up support of a tech savvy person – in my case, one kid’s dad. With the school’s user-friendly Apple computers and programs, I was able to reorganize one data base and set up two more.  I created flyers, magazine ads, invitations, 5 panel color brochures, and 4 to 6 page newsletters with columns, headlines and photos as well as a literary magazine with the kids’ artwork and writing.  And they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks – although I wasn’t quite as old a dog then.

It was a pretty easy transition to taking over as leader of my mom's tech team.  This fall, after a virus wormed its way into her email (see my post “Pick On Someone Your Own Size,”) she called a real computer consultant to do the initial clean-up. Then, my sister suggested that Mom leave the follow-up work for me, prompting me to send Kay some very negative thought-waves.  In the end, everything worked out pretty well, and I further clinched the title of family computer expert.  I set up Mom’s new G Mail account and made it easy for her to receive and send messages.  I also cleaned up her address book, got her addresses transferred to G Mail and sent everyone in the address book her new email address along with a warning not to open emails from her old address.  She had been complaining that, when she tried to type double letters, her computer seemed to stick after entering just one letter. I solved the problem by getting her a new, wireless keyboard and, for an encore, installed a wireless mouse.  Just another successful day in Geek-land.

In addition to helping my mom, I get a lot of satisfaction from knowing I can knock Paul’s socks off with a simple parlor trick like setting up an email contact list for his dental study club.  I racked up lots of points when I designed his office website which does include photos, directions and new patient forms even if it doesn’t include anything twirling, whirling or exploding onto the screen.  And, after I put his fall hiking photos in a laptop slide show for his office staff, Paul said admiringly, “You’re like Bill Gates – this is like living with Bill Gates.”

 If you’ve got it, flaunt it.

P.S. In case you're wondering, the guy at right is Bill Gates

My New Year's Resolution

This post was supposed to come out right after New Year’s, but all of last week just vanished into one of those black holes that only people like Stephen Hawking understand.  I vaguely remember doing the usual after-holiday jobs like packing away the Christmas decorations, washing linens, paying bills and clearing my refrigerator of UFO’s (unidentified food objects.)  I also recall doing some unusual jobs. For instance, Paul rang in the New Year by rounding up about 75 dirty handkerchiefs from his pants pockets.  Some of them hadn’t seen daylight since July so they were squinting and blinking in the bright light of my laundry room until I got them washed, ironed and ready for redeployment.

Then, I had to minister to Arturo, our 37-year-old ceramic penguin.  At Christmas, three or four Santas replace him on the piano and he’s generally okay about spending the season on the sidelines.   This year, however, he must have engaged in some sort of a fracas over the holidays because he came out of the closet with a broken wing.  Paul was more distressed about that than he ever was over the kids’ injuries. (See my  post, “Is There a Doctor in the House?”)  Anyway, it took 4 phone calls, 2 desperate emails, a trip across town to a ceramics studio for special glue and 24 hours of standing on his head for Arturo to make a full recovery.  The only thing I didn’t have to do was make him chicken soup.

The most vivid memory I have of last week is a montage of boxes, picture frames, placemats, record albums, furniture odds and ends, golf clubs, baskets, old camping gear, vases, books and more books – all headed out the door after a marathon session of basement clean-out and reorganization.   I am happy to report that Paul and I are still friends after this experience which ranks among the top two or three biggest challenges of our 40 years of marriage. I’m not sure I can say the same for the garbage guys and the pick-up crew from St. Vincent de Paul.

Now I finally have time to think about New Year’s resolutions, although when I told Paul that was the subject of my first post for 2011, his immediate response was, “When have you ever kept a New Year’s resolution?  In fact, when have you ever made one?”  Well, of course I knew I had made and kept lots of New Year’s resolutions over the past 60 years even if I couldn’t come up with any examples at the time.

Actually, I did come up with one example but I decided not to share it.  The January before I turned 60, I secretly resolved to focus on losing weight and even bought the first scale we’ve owned in 20 years thinking that would be an incentive.  If you’re considering this strategy, I’ll tell you right now it doesn’t work.  When the scale said my weight had gone down a pound or two, I rewarded myself with the last of the caramel, chocolate and pecan turtles from my neighbor.  When I stepped on the scale and my weight was the same, I knew I had gotten away with that second helping of Spaghetti Carbonara.  And, when two extra pounds popped up on the scale, even after I had chosen grilled salmon and steamed broccoli over fried crab cakes and three cheese, garlic mashed potatoes, I knew I had been played for a sucker.

I have really been trying to make a New Year’s resolution for 2011 – that is to incorporate all the things I’m supposed to do for health and fitness and mental well-being into my daily routine.  The problem is that the list of stuff to include keeps growing at about the same rate as the national debt.

First I have to find time every day to eat all the “must-eat” foods.  I should start with a cup of yogurt so I have the right bacteria in my stomach.  Then there’s orange juice with both calcium and vitamin D. My doctor said I also need a vitamin D pill; and I agreed to take that daily but ONLY because, unlike calcium supplements, the vitamin D pill is sized for a human not a horse.  I have to fit in a handful of walnuts or almonds for cholesterol and something else that I forget (maybe it’s for memory??) in addition to the blueberry thing so I am properly anti-oxidized. Just as I was gearing myself up for the recommended 4 servings of fruit and vegetables daily, I saw in the newspaper that the recommendation is now 9 servings.  9 SERVINGS OF FRUIT AND VEGETABLES!!  If I do that, I’ll never have room for chili cheese fries.  I’m still considering my mom’s recommendation of eating 11 raisins marinated in gin every morning to help with arthritis, but I’m not wild about either raisins or gin.  (Don’t ask me where the number 11 came from.)

Besides the required foods, my routine should allow time for exercise and fitness – my favorite group of activities.  (HAH!)  I know I’m supposed to do an aerobic something or other every day.  Walking an hour and a half with my friend Jean is no problem but sticking it out for as much as half an hour on the elliptical is a challenge, even if I’m watching “The Godfather” or “M*A*S*H.” or “South Pacific.”  My physical therapist friend Sue also gave me a program of stretching exercises so my back isn’t stiff when I get out of bed, I don’t lose my balance when I put on my jeans, and my fingers are nimble enough to pick out the red jelly beans.  On top of all that stuff, my routine is supposed to include using our weight machine 2 or 3 times a week.  AAARRRGGGHHH!

In addition, I have to schedule practice on skills that need improvement.  If you read my post “What Did I Have I Don’t Have Now,” you won’t be surprised that golf is at the top of that list.  I had planned to do golf swings in the basement every day.  With John’s Christmas gift of an indoor putting green and electric ball return, I can polish up my short game as well.  I really need to practice piano for at least 10 or 15 minutes every day so I don’t embarrass myself at my weekly lesson.  And, since we just decided to spend a week hiking in Italy this spring, I bought “Italian In 10 Minutes a Day” and hauled out my old Italian book and flashcards.  Given that I’ve had ten long years of memory cell deterioration and acquired smatterings of French and German since our last trip to Italy, I might need 1000 minutes a day to get a glass of wine and directions to the restroom. Then again, it might not make much difference.  

Perhaps one of those big charts with places to give myself gold stars would help - half the time I can’t even remember whether I’ve flossed my teeth and or not.  Right now, I’m worn out from just thinking of all the things I should do every day; and I’m questioning the wisdom of the whole New Year’s resolution schtick. Should I break a perfect record?