Technology Is Golden

There for a while, I thought my daughter might be the Unabomber. Denise dislikes all technology. She absolutely refused to consider a microwave oven until she had to accept one as a gift. She finally had to learn to use e-mail when it became necessary in her job but that was about the extent of her relationship with the 20th century. Heaven only knows what will happen to her in the 21st. She didn’t inherit this attitude from me. If it’s new, I love it. Maybe that’s because I remember only too well what we did before some of these wonderful inventions came along.

Those awful old washing machines. Trying to run steaming hot clothes through the wringer without popping all the buttons off the shirts was a challenge. From the washer into the first rinse, then again through the wringer into the second rinse, then fight the wringer one more time and drop the clothes into the basket. Then you had to hang up the wash. In the summer it meant hanging them on the lines in the yard and hoping for sun and wind and no rain or dogs running through the nice clean sheets. In the winter it meant hanging it all up in the basement, if you were lucky enough to have a basement. Otherwise the living room became the drying area with windows steamed up for days. Even today, the washer and dryer remain underappreciated.

Thank goodness for the garbage disposal grinding away in my sink. Up until that time, we had a triangle-shaped drainer that fit into the corner of the sink. Into this contraption went all the wet scraps like potato peelings, cores of apples, trimmings off of the meat all those pieces of garbage garnered during meal preparation and cleanup. After dinner, the mess would be dumped out on a newspaper and then rushed out to the garbage can, before it got too soggy. And that garbage can became quite malodorous by the end of the week. And those other household innovations — the dishwasher, the instant hot water tap, the garage door opener, I love them all.

Then came the calculator. I have always been so right-brained that math turned me off, under, around and slam-dunked. I could never remember the answer to 7-times-8. Under the table I counted on my fingers and hoped no one noticed. The calculator had to be invented for me! What a blessing. Balancing my checkbook became so much easier. Many older people bemoan the fact that the kids use calculators in school but they should see the problems the kids are working on. I bet Einstein would have loved the calculator as much as I do.

And Heaven must have sent those automated teller machines. I could easily fall in love with one. The ATM is better than any husband. It just says “Hello, Jan. And how much money would you like me to give you?” And never has it asked what I did with the $20 it gave me last week.

The only time I found myself apprehensive of a new idea came with the computer. It really scared me. Then seven years ago I decided to write the family history for my children. I sat down at the old Underwood I bought second hand in the ‘50s. After writing one page on that monster, I decided my fingers wouldn’t last if called on for serious typing. I had to buy a computer. But I didn’t know anything about computers.

So I turned to Mark, a former student of mine. He always stood ready when I called. This time we went shopping and he decided what I needed. My role consisted of writing the check. Now I was in business.

A year and a half later, after dozens of frantic calls to Mark and much tearing out of hair, the family history was done. Beast (my computer) turned three years old and was outdated. My more up-to-date other daughter, Cindy, urged me to upgrade. Even to get on the Internet. “Go for it, Mom,” she counseled. I went for it.

So I again faced technology, but this time all on my own. I sat before Beast II with trembling fingers clutched on a mouse even this new language had to be mastered. Finally, I stumbled on the Internet. There I met Miriam from Boston, Bill in Fresno, Bud in Phoenix, Dick and Marian in Minneapolis, and the list goes on.

As I approach my 72nd birthday, I hope the Grim Reaper holds off. I can hardly wait to see what’s in store for this new millennium. I’m having so much fun; I don’t want to miss out on anything new.