Laptop

From letter dated April 6, 1991

Early this year Emilie Bowen and I started talking about going to Australia and New Zealand together. One part of my mind told me that financially it was well out of reach, but I figured that with an Air France agent’s discount I might be able to manage it. As time went on, I rather cooled on the idea. When I finally got some travel literature, I realized that my extravagant budget figure was probably one-half to one-third of what such a trip would cost.

At about that time, I happened to mention to Alex that the one thing I really wanted was a laptop computer. He said that I had better make up my mind because there would be no better time than now when Carli could help advise, pick it out, and bring it when she and Tom came for a visit in March.

Of course, once I went into action, Alex admitted that he had wanted a laptop since we got the office computer a year ago. Result: Carli arrived with two laptops.

Considering what I had intended to pay for the Australia trip (which might have gotten me as far as mid-Pacific) and what the laptop actually cost, I have the smug feeling that I could not have afforded not to get it.

Carli and Tom both spent time setting it up for me and helping to train their computer-illiterate relative. They did something essential, which I prefer not to know about, called setting the defaults, that is, setting up some built-in instructions that I had no idea I wanted. They each worked with me from time to time, patiently suggesting that I learn the correct (easiest) way to do things, now that I had figured out that by punching certain keys over and over again I could get from Point A to Point B. I’m learning, I’m learning.

Tom gave me what probably was my best lesson: When in doubt, fold your hands in your lap and don’t hit anything; if you get into trouble, read the instructions on the screen. This was an alternative to my system of hitting every key in sight in hopes that the right thing would happen by accident.

 

From letter dated August 23, 1991

Alex was in Miami on business last week, and in some trepidation, I asked him to pick me up a computer bridge game. I am delighted with what he brought back. I am just beginning to use it and have not ventured into the more advanced procedures.

It is very flexible. I can set conventions, deals (random, game, slam), and degree of aggressiveness.

There is a hint key so that I can ask the program what it would bid or lead. I use this sometimes, deciding what I would do, then checking it with the “hint.” Then I do as I like. On occasion, I have played a hand twice to see whether the hint or my play worked better.

Anyway, it is fun and stimulating and I may learn something from it. The night Alex put it in my machine I stayed up (unsuspectingly) till 11:30 with the fool thing.

 

From letter dated September 27, 1991

I am coming along quite creditably with my laptop. There are hundreds of wonderfully useful procedures that I haven’t gotten around to playing with, but I am becoming comfortable with the things I do know.

It helps inordinately to be able to work in privacy at home. We got a computer for the office about a year ago, but 1) I am afraid of it; 2) my fooling around is an intrusion when people need it for work; 3) Alex is a wonderful son and a vile teacher.

Thanks to an array of books, which cost about as much as the computer and which Alex seems to have memorized, he is charging about doing miraculous things with our office accounts. He is a born hacker and the world is probably a happier place because he came late to the game. His idea of instruction is to lean over my shoulder and punch fifteen keys in rapid succession, which makes all sorts of things blink on and off the screen. And then he says triumphantly, “See!” Of course I haven’t seen the first thing.

The one thing I have learned to do is to move blocks of material from one location to another. This means that I can build letters around pre-written material. It feels like cheating, but means that I can write more often to more people. So you may look forward to hearing from me again soon.

I did not expect to become a monomaniac, and have not, though I finished last evening with my eyeballs in the next room.

Actually, I am having a marvelous time, learning as I go.

 

From letter dated March 22, 1992

There is something I had better warn you about, since I have had charmingly reticent comments from several friends. I seem to send the same letter to people more than once.

As you know, I write letters in my laptop computer now. Normally, I print them right away and then go back and zap them out of the directory.  Sometimes I don’t. On occasion it is not convenient to print the letter immediately. By the time I get around to doing it, I haven’t a clue whether or not I have sent the letter. My decision has been when-in-doubt, send it again rather than fail to send it at all.

If you get the same letter twice, now or in the future, please be tolerant. I’m trying. The trick is zapping the letter as soon as it is printed, so it doesn’t hang around in the directory waiting for me to notice it again. I shall try to be more organized; I assure you, I shall try.

 

From letter dated July 26, 1992

In the process of restoring the main computer in the office, Alex acquired (on a temporary basis) a program called Global. He says that Fred Heaney, María’s ex-boss, had a copy; he was utterly enamored of it and spent hours with it.

Alex called me back into the computer room, a smug grin on his face, and brought up the program. A few key strokes later I was looking at a map of Belize, with its flag, and listening to the national anthem, improbably coming tinnily from the computer. I could not believe it.

The program has to have almost every country in the world, if it has Belize. It also has information about major cities, products, and the usual stuff, for each country. It is a lovely little play-pretty (that’s Georgia for toy) but I can’t imagine its being of use to anyone beyond the fourth grade. Not that I didn’t stand spellbound watching it.

 

From letter dated October 10, 1992

I have neglected you for an inexcusably long time—unless I have written and failed to mark it on my correspondence chart. That sounds pretty stodgy, doesn’t it? The reason for it is this beloved laptop computer of mine.

As I have told you, some anecdotes that I intend to send to more than one person are stored in a special file. I can pull them out, put them into the letter I am writing, edit to suit the circumstances, and have part of my letter pre-written. Saves a lot of time.

When I started this, I found that I couldn’t remember what I had written to whom. So I made a chart with a column for each person I write regularly across the top (it stretches on and on and on past the screen to the right). Anecdotes are listed down the side. I then can mark each person’s column when I send them a particular story.

I started out using X, but found that it would help to know when I had written. Started putting down the month. Then I decided it was just as easy to show the date (i.e., 27/8). The system works beautifully—when I remember to mark my chart.

What has helped even more is learning something about the software it runs on (Lotus 1-2-3). I work mainly in Word Perfect and haven’t bothered to learn how to use 1-2-3 with any degree of assurance. All the commands are different from the ones I know, so I get terribly frustrated. A little time with The Book of Words (as Bucher used to call instruction manuals) would help.

 

From letter dated December 25, 1992

For Christmas, Alex, bless his heart, found a book written with his mother in mind: Word Perfect For Dummies. I have not bothered to learn all the goodies my computer has to offer, and it drives him crazy.