Remembering my Mac mini

A couple of years ago, I got an old Intel Mac mini Core Duo. It was long obsolete—it had been years since Apple had any OS support for it—but it was dirt cheap at Goodwill. I reasoned that since it had an Intel processor it could run other operating systems, and so it could be a backup for my regular computer. I also have to admit that I've had a weakness for the Mac mini design ever since the first Mac mini. Part of that is that I'm cheap...and so the cheapest option is usually my favorite. But I also like the idea of a very compact, quiet desktop computer.

But the biggest selling point was that this new Mac gave me a chance to play with OS X (which is now branded macOS...but I'll use OS X in this piece, since OS X was the name Apple used for the operating systems that could run on this Mac).

I was curious about OS X. I'd been a Classic MacOS user for many, many years, but I never made the transition to OS X. In the early OS X years, the Classic MacOS systems I was using did almost everything I needed. The only reason for moving on was for Internet. Linux on a cheap used Windows PC was good enough for my Internet needs, and was considerably cheaper than an OS X Mac. So I embraced a double standard of Classic MacOS for work and Linux for Internet. Eventually, Linux application software (like LibreOffice) evolved to a point where I was happy with using Linux systems for all day to day tasks.

Still, I always wondered what OS X was like. I wondered, sometimes, if perhaps I'd be better off migrating to a OS X system. I had been, after all, so happy with Apple computers and operating systems for so many years.

I had some OS X experience, of course, but it was severely limited. Machines that weren't mine and thus couldn't be customized to meet my needs. Or an elderly G4 running an ancient version of OS X. The Mac mini gave me a fairly mature version of OS X. It would also be my computer, and so I could do anything I wanted to with it without someone screaming at me.

It was interesting playing with OS X. And it did leave me thinking that there would be real pluses to moving back to using an Apple computer as my one and only. It is nice, for one thing, having high consistency across software. I also think word processor choices are better with Apple. There certainly are more choices than Linux. Most of the good word processors available for Linux are also available for OS X (or macOS now). And there are several titles that are Apple only. There is probably a better chance of finding software that fits a person's needs.

But one sticking point with Apple is the price tag... I've gotten spoiled by low used Windows PC prices, I'm afraid.

But I've gotten even more spoiled by the idea of open source software that costs $0. Is it really worth paying (say) $80 for a word processor, when LibreOffice is $0? Even if the $80 word processor is better in some ways, is it $80 better? For some, the answer is probably yes. But I'm not sure it is for me...particularly given how tight my budget is.

I also found myself liking how small and quiet the Mac mini was. Indeed, it probably comes closer to being my ideal desktop computer than anything else available. Expansion is limited, of course, but I've generally not been into adding stuff internally.

The Mac mini was useful as a secondary computer. One of its biggest jobs was connecting by Bluetooth to my cell phone to retrieve photos. (My regular computer doesn't have Bluetooth.)

Recently, I gave some thought to other uses. Possibly as a media PC (probably less than ideal—but given that my video systems tend to be simple, it might have been fine). I have also often thought of going back to a model of having a separate computer for distraction free writing, and the Mac mini seemed like an interesting choice.

Unfortunately, before I could try any of this, the Mac mini died. One night, when I wanted to get some photos off my phone, I switched the Mac on. It turned on—but there was no chime, and the screen remained dark. I did a little tinkering to rule out obvious stuff, like problems with the memory. But the Mac refused to come back to life. Perhaps it could be fixed, but I'm not sure it's worth the effort. Not given that it's so old, and that it was only a secondary (and non-essential) computer.

Still, I'll miss it.

Junior high reading class waiver

When I went into junior high, a question came up: would I take 7th grade reading?

Reading was not technically a required class, and any reasonable person would have said it seemed pretty pointless for me to take reading. I was reading well above grade level by that point. I was the only kid in my 6th grade class who did a book report on an Agatha Christie mystery...

But my 6th grade teacher was unmoved by this argument. I didn't meet the junior high's standards needed to waive me from 7th grade reading, he claimed. I can't remember what the standards were, but I'm guessing something like straight A's in 6th grade reading. I think my grades were probably lower than my actual reading ability, thanks (in part) to one of the programs we used, which I hated. (It wasn't even real reading, but various exercises and tests.) Indeed, I remember my sixth grade teacher making some snarky comment that the kids who got reading class waivers were the ones who did really, really, really well with that program I hated. My teacher said that the junior high was adamant about the waiver policy.

So it appeared I was stuck with reading class. Like it or not.

But...as it turned out, I went to the other junior high in the district. We knew that I'd be going there well before sixth grade ended. My mother discovered in the paperwork that the junior high I'd go to was more flexible with reading class waivers. So she dropped in on my sixth grade teacher one day with papers in tow, and demanded his signature. He studied the papers, and agreed it looked like she was right. He signed, although I have a sense he wasn't happy. Maybe he thought that I needed another year of reading because I didn't do my best with that one deadly dull reading program. Maybe he just hated losing the argument.

So I had an extra elective in seventh grade, which was nice.

Interestingly, I took a standardized test in 7th grade that measured basic skills, including reading level. I can't remember how I did, but I think it was something like 9th grade reading level. I complained to a counselor that I should have done better—remember I was the kid doing book reports on Agatha Christie books! And she gently explained that yes, I might have above 9th grade reading level. But the highest possible score a 7th grader could get on that test was 9th grade reading level.

“Just a few dollars”

As mentioned before, I’ve been receiving a ton of election related fund raising e-mails. I discussed some of the themes recently. But I really never discussed one major theme that is truly frustrating. The theme of “just a few dollars.” This line, in fact, appears on the subject line on a recent e-mail. Indeed, many campaigns have a suggested starting donation of $5 or less.

Just a few dollars makes sense for those raising funds. It doesn’t seem like much to many people. The sort of money many people blow on a trip to Starbucks. Thus, it’s a donation many can and will make without thinking twice. Yet, these small donations will add up for the politician or group collecting the money. If a politician gets enough $5 donations, he or she can buy a TV ad that “sets the record straight!” Or an ad that demolishes the opponent, as the case may be.

These donations also add up mighty fast for the people making them. $5 might not be a big deal for many people. But if one contributes $5 again and again, that can add up to real money. One hundred donations through an election year would end up being $500, which is not an insignificant amount of money for many people. (And, of course, the $5 is a starting point donation—the people sending these fund raising e-mails probably hope people will cough up $20, $50, or even $100 instead. Indeed, I wonder if many people don’t donate more just so they don’t seem cheap about it.) I wonder how many people are donating more than they can really afford.

In my case, I don’t have the budget to support even “just a few dollars” donations. My cash flow is not good, and I have just about zero spare cash at the moment. I know I’m not alone in this—indeed, this election cycle has made me aware of how poorly so many of us are doing in today’s America.

This brings me to my big frustration—the obvious belief these campaigns have that we all have money to burn.

I have been getting a lot of messages that make it clear that these groups are tracking my donations—or, more accurately, my lack of donations. “No donation yet!” flashes on one e-mail. I keep getting messages that say something like “3 missed e-mails.” (Obviously they think I missed these e-mails since I didn’t cough up $5!) I even get e-mails that whine: “Why, why, why?” (The why, of course, is why haven’t I coughed up $5.)

Guess what? I don’t have the resources to donate $5!  If I had a spare $5, I’d have bought the better brand of laundry detergent last time I bought detergent! I certainly don’t have a pile of cash to satisfy every group!

And, of course, the candidates behind these campaigns lead very comfortable lives. One wonders if they even have a clue what it’s like for many Americans. For example, I keep getting requests that are supposedly sent from some candidate’s iPad, and every time I see one of those, I think about how I—and many other people—are making due with less glamorous technology. (In my case, I’m using a desktop computer made before Obama’s first election!)

At one point, I cracked, and hit the respond button. I fired back an e-mail that basically said: I can’t afford to contribute! I got an auto response that strongly suggested the e-mail account was only used to send messages to try and shake money out of us. Not horribly surprising. I got this same sort of response from at least one other time. A couple of times, there was no response, so the message might have gone someplace. Or else the account was only used to send messages, and they hadn’t bothered with auto response. Who knows? In all cases, the flow of messages asking for “just” $5 continued...

Of course, I can unsubscribe. As stated before, I am a bit lazy, and I do find the study of the tactics interesting. Indeed, I have been wondering the last week or so if campaign fund raising e-mails couldn’t be a worthy academic study. Maybe there is even a doctoral thesis there for someone.

At least, the election is almost here, and that will stop the flood of fund raising e-mails. For this year, at least.

Halloween

The holiday season officially begins the day after Thanksgiving. But somehow, Halloween seems like it may the real start.

I don't mean the fact that Christmas shopping displays will now be popping up. (Actually, these days, signs of Christmas pop up well before October in some stores. I don't entirely joke when I say that one day stores will open the day after Christmas with a display for the next year's Christmas.) But Halloween somehow feels like a start. At least a hint of the coming holiday season. It's the first holiday milestone of fall.

It certainly was a milestone growing up. It was the first point in the calendar to alleviate the school year monotony. We didn't get the day off—in fact, I don't think we got any holidays until Veteran's Day—but we got the afternoon off from school work in elementary school. We'd have a Halloween party.

But the party wasn't the only fun. There were fun decorations picturing black cats and witches. Plus there were jack o'lanterns. Real jack o'lanterns, that is, which were carved out of a pumpkin. None of that paint a face on a pumpkin business! And the carvings were simple faces, and we'd carve with a plain knife. No fancy designs, as one sees sometimes today. No fancy carving sets, either. (I will admit: I admire some of those designs. But somehow, the old chunky faces crafted by a paring knife seem more "Halloween" to me.) My family's jack o'lantern would be lit on Halloween night—and lit with a real candle.

I remember the attachment I felt to that jack o'lantern every year. It would get carved, and lovingly placed on the porch about Halloween. And it would stay there well past Halloween, just like a Christmas tree might linger and linger... But jack o'lanterns—at least in the Seattle area—don't age well on the porch. Decay would set in sooner or later, and slowly the jack o'lantern would start collapsing. (And probably molding, too.) It finally would get dumped in mid to late November.

One year, my family hosted Thanksgiving. When the pumpkin pie was served, my father made a crack that the pumpkin in the pie came from the jack o'lantern that had been scraped off our porch just a few days before.

Then, of course, there was the fun of costumes. Many (most?) years, they were home made by my mother. I was Sylvester or a Sylvester-like cat one year. I think that might have been actually two years, although part of the costume didn't fit the following year. I only remember wearing a commercial costume (I think Casper the Friendly Ghost) maybe once. Today, I wish I'd better appreciated the time and creativity my mother put in back then...

Trick or treating, of course, was a routine. One year, I had a bad cold, and I kicked up a huge fuss when my mother said I should stay home. Eventually, after calling the doctor, she relented...but only if I wore a heavy coat. That probably ruined the costume's effect...but at least I was able to go!

Every year, I'd head out probably just about dark, with a plastic jack o'lantern candy bucket in hand. Back then, we were on standard time by Halloween, and so it would be dark by six. I went out with my mother, and my father would stay behind and hand out candy. I remember at least one year, my mother and I came back to our house while we were making the rounds. My mother stayed well out of sight, and I tried to pass myself off as another kid. One would suspect that my father probably saw through it...and so the only sucker was the one he gave me.

But there was a dark side to trick or treating even then. There was always a risk of getting hit by a car, of course. There was also a risk of bad treats. I don't mean just a candy one hates! But even then, there were stories about razor blades in apples, and poison in candies. One safety tip given in school was that we should have our candy carefully inspected by our parents to make sure the wrapper was 100% intact, and there were no suspicious hypodermic syringe holes to be found.

I know the possibility of poison really scared me... Although, truth be told, my neighborhood was probably pretty safe.

The only scary incident I recall really didn't involve me directly. It was a problem one woman a nearby street had. I remember her as a nice, grandmotherly type. She lived alone. And one year, she was very cautious about opening the door. She made sure it was only a kid there, and that the only adult was several yards away. Apparently, some unsavory types had been prowling her property that night... Taking advantage, one assumes, of a strange night when one might not notice anything out of the ordinary.

I can't remember the last year I trick or treated. Probably the year I was in sixth grade as a guess. It wasn't so much that I'd gotten tired of it—how could a kid get tired of free candy?!?—but I had reached a sad age when my family decreed I was too old for trick or treating.

Microsoft Works for Macintosh

The toughest part of getting my first computer, a Macintosh, was choosing a word processor to buy. The choice was critical—I was a student, and the major practical reason for getting the computer was to write papers for school.

It was not an easy choice. There were seemingly countless word processors, and each appeared to have strengths and weaknesses. I remember reading reviews, and feeling more bewildered than when I started.

Making matters worse, this was an era long before trial downloads, let alone fully free software like today’s LibreOffice. Indeed, Macintosh word processors cost real money back then. So there was the thought: What if I buy the wrong thing and throw money away?

Finally, I decided to buy a copy of Microsoft Works (version 2.0). It was attractively priced for all the features it had. Plus it had gotten good reviews, and was a solid seller. Thus it seemed like the safest “first buy” choice.

Microsoft Works integrated several basic tools (word processor, spreadsheet, database, drawing, and telecommunications) into one program. A lot like AppleWorks (which I discussed a while back). Interestingly, Microsoft Works was apparently originally written by at least one of the AppleWorks creators, and then it was bought by Microsoft later on.

Of course, Microsoft Works was not something power users would like. It was pretty much the basics, and only the basics. One wag cracked that Microsoft Works proved that Bill Gates would lie awake at night worrying that he was giving away something for nothing.

However, Microsoft Works had as much power as many users would ever need.

The word processor—the part that really mattered to me—was more than adequate for my  needs. The only missing feature I could have used was an ability to automate either footnotes or endnotes. However, it wasn’t hard to manually insert a single footnote or two. It wasn’t hard to manually create endnotes. I’d have probably liked automation, of course—it would have appealed to my Inner Sloth—but doing it manually worked just fine.

Microsoft Works' word processor took advantage of the Macintosh way of doing things. So one could have different fonts in a word processor document. One could basic page layout.

Of course, it’s questionable if the capability I had with the Macintosh and Microsoft Works was really necessary for what I did. It was a simpler era back then. Fancy fonts were fun, but monospaced Courier would have been good enough for all the classes I took. For that matter, I probably could have survived using the Jessica Fletcher-style Royal typewriter I’d used in tenth grade.

Although, at the same time, the Macintosh and Microsoft Works did allow me to do things I couldn’t have. I took an arts appreciation class that required me to keep a journal. Most people just used a spiral notebook. I used my new toy computer. The end result was a bit ghastly—I had no sense of good page design. But it was fun—a lot more fun than a spiral notebook—and it wowed my professor. I got my best grade that term from her, and that journal was the only graded assignment.

I also enjoyed writing a couple of papers for French, using the Macintosh’s built-in support for diacritical marks.

Outside of school, I used Microsoft Works’ word processor for a bit of everything. I wrote lots of letters. I wrote some abominable short stories. I did a lot of word processing work for my mother.

Screenshot showing Microsoft Works (Version 2.0) word processor in operation.

Microsoft Works Works’ other modules, however, weren’t quite as useful. I used them sometimes, but not that often. Frankly, I probably could have gotten by without having them, although the spreadsheet did make life a little easier sometimes.

Unfortunately, Works had a dark side. My version had a bug that would sometimes crash Works after saving a word processing document. Fortunately, I never lost a document, but the crashes could be a huge pain. Particularly when they caused System 6 to crash, too. Some nights, it seemed like it would non-stop System crashes.

Eventually, the crashes got so tiresome that I bought a copy of WriteNow. I got a good deal on WriteNow. Plus I’d heard many, many good things about it.

The Macintosh version of Microsoft Works was discontinued a few years later. By that point, the market was probably considerably more competitive. Claris (owned by Apple) was making ClarisWorks, which was much better than Microsoft Works.

Looking back, I can’t honestly say I have much love or sentiment for Microsoft Works. But—apart from the System crashes—it at least did the basics well enough to get by on.

Election fundraising e-mail

Election year always  brings me an incredible flood of e-mail from people or organizations trying to raise money for campaigning.

In a way, it’s strange that I’ve been getting all this e-mail. I am not politically active, past voting. I think what happened is that I signed some on-line petition for some issue or other, and my name was harvested and put up for sale on the list of suckers people who might contribute.

No matter. What matters—to me, at least, as I face my e-mail in box every day—is that they have my address. And they don’t hesitate to use it in hopes of prying loose a few dollars.

All this e-mail gets a bit tiresome. But...at the same time, I have been too lazy to unsubscribe. I also have to admit I’ve been interested (and even entertained at times) by some of the messages and tactics

There seems to be absolutely no limit whom I hear from. None. I am not surprised to get messages from my state governor’s election campaign. But I keep wondering why the campaigns of Cheri Bustos, Julia Brownley, and Raul Ruiz—just to name three—keep e-mailing for money since none of these candidates represent me. And it’s pretty clear in at least some cases that they have the available information to know they don’t represent me. Cheri Bustos' campaign e-mailed last week saying she needed one more donation from my ZIP code. Guess what? My ZIP code—which they correctly quoted—is only about 2,000 miles away from one she represents.

At least, Cheri Bustos can be quite considerate. I got an e-mail saying “I know it’s late...” Not a problem, Ms. Bustos. One advantage of e-mail is that it can be sent when it’s convenient for the sender, and read when it’s convenient for the recipient. So go ahead an e-mail me whenever. I don’t care. I will note, however, that e-mail can be responded to at my convenience. And my convenient moment for responding to a request for money for your campaign will be “never.”

I am also getting e-mail from Hillary Clinton’s campaign. The tone here is often to send money to show support. Often, they have the incentive of offering me a free sticker. (Wasn’t a free sticker incentive worn out back around third grade for most of us?) Sorry, no contribution. But on the brighter side, they will save money since they won’t have to send me a sticker!

Then there the surveys. We need your opinion!!! the senders scream. These surveys seem to have two things in common. First, they seem to me eyes to be biased. I don't think they are not fully neutral, as one would expect if they were actually trying to collect usable data. (For that matter, I’ve wondered if the data is even recorded.) Second thing is that every survey leads to an opportunity to donate. Many have a final question along the lines of “Will you donate $3?” The answers usually are “Yes” and “Yes—but I’ll donate more!” For some reason, “No. I won’t donate” is not usually included, unless it’s tied in with some shaming statement basically suggesting “No—I’m an evil person who wants the bad guys to win!!!”

Another fun tactic is the opportunity to sign a card wishing someone a happy birthday, or thanks for something they did. I note that after signing there is always an opportunity to contribute $25 “or whatever you can afford.” I contribute what I can afford: $0.

I also have noted another theme: my $5 is the only thing standing between victory and defeat in a campaign.

At least the election is nearly here, and soon there will be peace in my In Box.

Or at least there will be more peace. If history from past years repeats, I’ll have a few messages tricking in by late November saying that: “We need to start getting ready for the next election!!!!!”

Next election. Just the thought of the next election makes me wish someone would give a free cyanide capsule instead of a sticker if I donate $1 or more.

The Hardy Boys

I first met the Hardy Boys when I was in first grade. One day, a classmate brought a copy of Hunting for Hidden Gold (1963 edition) to Show and Tell. I can't remember what he said, but I was so impressed that I insisted that my mother rush out and get a copy of the book and then read it to me.

Hunting for Hidden Gold takes place in a Montana ghost town. The Hardy Boys go there and solve two mysteries—one an armored truck holdup, and then a mystery about some gold that disappeared years before. They have lots of adventures—everything from nearly being killed in a collapsing mine tunnel to camping in the middle of winter. (Or as one cracks: “Staying at the rock motel.”)

I became addicted to that book. I know my mother read it to me many times. Eventually, because of this book, she decreed she'd read a book to me one time only. Later in life, she proved she vividly remembered that book. One day, when I cleaned the cat litter box, she cracked that I was “hunting for hidden gold.”

Meanwhile, my poor father got stuck playing with me, and acting out various scenes from that book. I also remember him one night knocking on the underside of our dining room table one night, and claiming it was “tommy-knockers.” Tommy-knockers were mentioned in the book as legendary spirits who knock to warn of accidents. In our dining room, perhaps they knocked to suggest I finish my peas.

The summer after first grade, my family took a road trip to go and visit relatives. My mother bought the first four books in the Hardy Boys series to read to me. She figured they would be enough for our two days on the road. (Plus she might have hoped they'd make me forget Hunting for Hidden Gold!)

As it turned out, four books weren't enough for our two day drive.

Years later, my mother told me she'd read until her voice got tired. She'd stop. She'd encourage me to do something else. She'd point out “the pretty mountain.” I'd take a look, and say: “Pretty mountain. Read!”

Thus, the four books went pretty fast. I have no idea how my parents survived the last day or so of our trip without books to read to me. Surprisingly, perhaps, they didn't tie me up and gag me. (Which would give me a chance to experience, first hand, what it was like to tied and gagged like what happened in a Hardy Boys book!)

The Hardy Boys adventures were a part of my imaginary and my play life for a good chunk of my early elementary school years. As I mentioned above, my poor father got stuck acting out Hunting for Hidden Gold with me. I can remember acting out parts of various Hardy Boys adventures when playing on my own. I remember my stuffed toy cabbage bravely portrayed Joe Hardy one day. I was always, of course, Frank Hardy. Although I have vague memories of letting my father play the role of Frank Hardy in scenes when Frank would get knocked out.

Some would argue that the Hardy Boys weren't very good books. This is particularly the case for the books I grew up with, which were all published in 1959 and later. Those books were markedly worse than the oldest Hardy Boys books, partly, I'd guess, because of the advent of TV. In 1929, one could have a long descriptive scene, and get away it. In 1959, however, the books were competing with TV, which placed no real demands on the viewer. Thus the books had to move fast, and had to be non-stop action in order to keep the attention of then-modern kids.

At the same time, however, one might argue the TV generation books had value. My mother was an English teacher, and she had critical things to say about my generation's Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books. (She even wrote a paper on the topic for one class she took.) But...she also saw value in a book—any book—that would get people reading.

I wonder, in fact, if my willingness to be a reader now isn't partly shaped by books like the Hardy Boys?

I have also wondered if the fact that I have an imagination today isn't due, in part, to the Hardy Boys. Of course, I was at least partly using someone else's material as I acted out their adventures. But I was also having to imagine that material. It wasn't being force fed to my brain via a TV screen.

In any case, I have fond memories of the Hardy Boys. I am very grateful that classmate brought that copy of Hunting for Hidden Gold to Show and Tell that day.

Last edited 9/10/16