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.
Thursday, November 3, 2016
Monday, October 31, 2016
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.
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.
Sunday, October 23, 2016
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 newtoy 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.
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.
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
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. |
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.
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
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 ofsuckers 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.
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
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.
Monday, September 5, 2016
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
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
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Revisiting AppleWorks for the Apple II
Recently, I paid a visit to an old software friend of mine, AppleWorks, which ran on Apple II computers. (The name got used on a Mac application in the late 90s, but the two AppleWorks share little but the name in common.) AppleWorks integrated word processing, spreadsheet, and database. Maybe we could say it was the office suite of the 1980s!
I first met AppleWorks when I was in high school. My chemistry teacher and I cut a deal: he'd let me have after-school access to the computer lab if I promised that I'd word process my lab reports from that day forward. (I have horrible handwriting.) The lab was filled with Apple II computers—everything from an original Apple II to a number of Apple IIe computers. And he let me use a copy of AppleWorks.
My original plan was that I'd word process the lab reports to keep my end of the deal. Then, I'd play with programming. Strangely, I never got around to programming—not even long enough to dust off my BASIC. I spent almost my entire time in the computer lab word processing with AppleWorks. I not only used it for chemistry lab reports, but I also used it for other homework. More than once, I used it to write a quick letter to my grandparents. Word processing was addictive, and suddenly the old 1960s Smith-Corona typewriter I'd happily used the year before seemed...horribly primitive.
As time went by, I also used spreadsheets, which made it easy to process chemistry lab data. Let the computer do the number crunching instead of my right index finger and my Sharp calculator! And the spreadsheet allowed me create basic tables that could be flung into a word processing document.
Two memories stick to my mind, both of which give a clue as to why AppleWorks was very popular in the 1980s. First, it was easy to use. Not “Macintosh” easy, but I was able to learn AppleWorks mostly on my own. I got a little help from my teacher at first, and did read one AppleWorks book. But I mostly learned by using it.
The other memory was that I was seemingly able to do pretty much everything I needed to do. The program had limits—which became very clear when I got my first Macintosh!—but it got basic jobs done. From a view of 1980s requirements, many people could and were able to get by just fine with AppleWorks.
I think the worst limit of AppleWorks was the Apple II's limited memory. So...huge projects were not an option. You could, in theory, write your book on AppleWorks—and I'm sure books were written on AppleWorks—but there was only enough memory to work on a chapter at a time.
If one needed something extra, one could get add-ons to address AppleWorks weaknesses. The one I recall that may have pushed things to the limit was something that would allow one to print AppleWorks documents using Macintosh-style fonts. I have no idea how this exactly worked, but I recall one teacher using it. It took forever to print, but it did create very nice looking documents.
There were also hardware upgrades. A major upgrade was memory. There was at least memory expansion board for the II e that an ad said could allow one to fully load AppleWorks into memory.
I only used AppleWorks for a few months. The next school year, I had my own computer, a Macintosh. At the time, yes, moving from the Apple II to the Macintosh did seem like going from a base Honda Civic to a Porsche!
As I said earlier, I have had a chance to revisit AppleWorks. It's been something on my to-do list: I have acquired a bit of Apple II stuff, but never got everything lined up.
Recently, however, I decided to try Virtual ][, which emulates an Apple II series. And so I decided I might as well test AppleWorks, the one piece of software I actually know. Plus I was curious to see it again.
Frankly, I wondered if the experience wouldn't be a bit grim. A gut wrenching trip to the past, complete with questions like: “How on earth did anyone survive with this technology?!?”
Fortunately, though, it was a mostly pleasant trip to the past. I found myself missing some things—mouse support. (For some reason, I think that could be added to AppleWorks, though.) And I could not help but notice that yes, it was easy to use...but the 1980s Macintosh was much better in that regard.
Strangely, I noted I could probably easily get by with AppleWorks day to day even in 2016.
This last statement might seem bizarre. It would almost seem like AppleWorks is the equivalent of a horse and covered wagon in an era of shiny space ships. And yes, AppleWorks is considerably less feature rich. But my primary needs are pretty simple—mostly just writing and putting words on a page. I seldom use spreadsheets, and when I do, I only need the very basics. So AppleWorks could easily do 95%+ of what I need.
One thing AppleWorks won't do is good page layout work. A word processing document looks more or less looks like something one typed on an IBM Selectric. The original (and limited) Macintosh MacWrite word processor has page layout ability that frankly left AppleWorks in the dust, and that situation has only gotten worse. Most of the time, I only need text—but I do sometimes need better layout.
For my needs, however, the biggest AppleWorks problem is the poor compatibility with the modern world. AppleWorks does not support Microsoft Word documents. It does not allow for creation of PDFs, either. And the file format realities make it hard to move an AppleWorks file to a modern system that does support current formats.
With these flaws, I doubt I'll be going back to AppleWorks any time soon. I have been a proponent of an old computer for distraction free writing, but an old Macintosh can make more sense, if only because it's easier getting the files to move over to the modern world.
That said...I have to say I'm impressed by AppleWorks. It was amazingly good given the technical limits of the systems it was designed for. It was a huge step forward for making computers a usable—and indispensable tool—for normal people in the real world.
I first met AppleWorks when I was in high school. My chemistry teacher and I cut a deal: he'd let me have after-school access to the computer lab if I promised that I'd word process my lab reports from that day forward. (I have horrible handwriting.) The lab was filled with Apple II computers—everything from an original Apple II to a number of Apple IIe computers. And he let me use a copy of AppleWorks.
My original plan was that I'd word process the lab reports to keep my end of the deal. Then, I'd play with programming. Strangely, I never got around to programming—not even long enough to dust off my BASIC. I spent almost my entire time in the computer lab word processing with AppleWorks. I not only used it for chemistry lab reports, but I also used it for other homework. More than once, I used it to write a quick letter to my grandparents. Word processing was addictive, and suddenly the old 1960s Smith-Corona typewriter I'd happily used the year before seemed...horribly primitive.
As time went by, I also used spreadsheets, which made it easy to process chemistry lab data. Let the computer do the number crunching instead of my right index finger and my Sharp calculator! And the spreadsheet allowed me create basic tables that could be flung into a word processing document.
Two memories stick to my mind, both of which give a clue as to why AppleWorks was very popular in the 1980s. First, it was easy to use. Not “Macintosh” easy, but I was able to learn AppleWorks mostly on my own. I got a little help from my teacher at first, and did read one AppleWorks book. But I mostly learned by using it.
 |
| Partial screen shot of AppleWorks when saving a document. Note the hint to hit "Escape" to cancel. |
The other memory was that I was seemingly able to do pretty much everything I needed to do. The program had limits—which became very clear when I got my first Macintosh!—but it got basic jobs done. From a view of 1980s requirements, many people could and were able to get by just fine with AppleWorks.
I think the worst limit of AppleWorks was the Apple II's limited memory. So...huge projects were not an option. You could, in theory, write your book on AppleWorks—and I'm sure books were written on AppleWorks—but there was only enough memory to work on a chapter at a time.
If one needed something extra, one could get add-ons to address AppleWorks weaknesses. The one I recall that may have pushed things to the limit was something that would allow one to print AppleWorks documents using Macintosh-style fonts. I have no idea how this exactly worked, but I recall one teacher using it. It took forever to print, but it did create very nice looking documents.
There were also hardware upgrades. A major upgrade was memory. There was at least memory expansion board for the II e that an ad said could allow one to fully load AppleWorks into memory.
I only used AppleWorks for a few months. The next school year, I had my own computer, a Macintosh. At the time, yes, moving from the Apple II to the Macintosh did seem like going from a base Honda Civic to a Porsche!
As I said earlier, I have had a chance to revisit AppleWorks. It's been something on my to-do list: I have acquired a bit of Apple II stuff, but never got everything lined up.
Recently, however, I decided to try Virtual ][, which emulates an Apple II series. And so I decided I might as well test AppleWorks, the one piece of software I actually know. Plus I was curious to see it again.
Frankly, I wondered if the experience wouldn't be a bit grim. A gut wrenching trip to the past, complete with questions like: “How on earth did anyone survive with this technology?!?”
Fortunately, though, it was a mostly pleasant trip to the past. I found myself missing some things—mouse support. (For some reason, I think that could be added to AppleWorks, though.) And I could not help but notice that yes, it was easy to use...but the 1980s Macintosh was much better in that regard.
Strangely, I noted I could probably easily get by with AppleWorks day to day even in 2016.
This last statement might seem bizarre. It would almost seem like AppleWorks is the equivalent of a horse and covered wagon in an era of shiny space ships. And yes, AppleWorks is considerably less feature rich. But my primary needs are pretty simple—mostly just writing and putting words on a page. I seldom use spreadsheets, and when I do, I only need the very basics. So AppleWorks could easily do 95%+ of what I need.
One thing AppleWorks won't do is good page layout work. A word processing document looks more or less looks like something one typed on an IBM Selectric. The original (and limited) Macintosh MacWrite word processor has page layout ability that frankly left AppleWorks in the dust, and that situation has only gotten worse. Most of the time, I only need text—but I do sometimes need better layout.
 |
| Partial screenshot of an AppleWorks word processing document. |
For my needs, however, the biggest AppleWorks problem is the poor compatibility with the modern world. AppleWorks does not support Microsoft Word documents. It does not allow for creation of PDFs, either. And the file format realities make it hard to move an AppleWorks file to a modern system that does support current formats.
With these flaws, I doubt I'll be going back to AppleWorks any time soon. I have been a proponent of an old computer for distraction free writing, but an old Macintosh can make more sense, if only because it's easier getting the files to move over to the modern world.
That said...I have to say I'm impressed by AppleWorks. It was amazingly good given the technical limits of the systems it was designed for. It was a huge step forward for making computers a usable—and indispensable tool—for normal people in the real world.
Summer of car trouble
"The Summer of Car Trouble" may be the title I'd choose for Summer of 2016. Although maybe that's a bit extreme. It makes it sound like I kept having car breakdowns, week after week. I've only actually had one break down. Problem is...that breakdown came at a bad time when I simply do not have the cash to pursue repairs, not even cheap and cheerful fixes. (Maybe it's a Murphy's Law type law—the chances of car breakdowns are inversely proportional to your ability to pay for repairs!) So I've been without a car since June.
It has been a pain, but I try to tell myself that I could be worse. The car broke down on my driveway, and not some random parking lot, which saved a towing bill and a ton of stress. There is public transportation—while service is limited, at least I can get do everything I currently need to do.
Things could be worse. Far worse.
Of course things could also be better. Far better.
A big pain is the question of what to do next. This car was a rock bottom used car. It is now 20 years old, and has nearly 300,000 miles. This car is the sort you buy as a local puddle hopper, and that you drive without making too many long term plans that involve that car. So...it may be time to bid farewell. (Even though, as I stated before, I like the idea of repairing rather than replacing things. But at some point, it's time to move on.) Then, again, it might not be time to move on.
It's very likely the current issue is reasonably simple. But there are other issues facing the car. And it's anyone's guess how much it will cost to address everything. It may be cheap. It may be prohibitively expensive. And given the age and miles, more problems may be coming my way.
I keep see-sawing on whether or not I want to pursue repairs. I think the following regularly: This car is the best I've ever owned! But there are some things I don't like! Practically, it could easily be cheaper to repair than replace! But it could also cost more to repair than replace. But repairing might still be better—it's the devil I know. Any car I can afford any time soon will be old, and will likely have issues. I wish the day would come that I could have a car that would be good enough to be more than a local puddle hopper. Something I could take, without thinking, on a long road trip! Cheap cars can be stressful. Maybe I should just forget cars, and just plan to use buses for the rest of my life. But that's easier said than done, at least if you live where I do.
I never come to any hard and firm conclusions, no matter how many times I run this dialog through my mind.
Perhaps fall will bring some answers...
It has been a pain, but I try to tell myself that I could be worse. The car broke down on my driveway, and not some random parking lot, which saved a towing bill and a ton of stress. There is public transportation—while service is limited, at least I can get do everything I currently need to do.
Things could be worse. Far worse.
Of course things could also be better. Far better.
A big pain is the question of what to do next. This car was a rock bottom used car. It is now 20 years old, and has nearly 300,000 miles. This car is the sort you buy as a local puddle hopper, and that you drive without making too many long term plans that involve that car. So...it may be time to bid farewell. (Even though, as I stated before, I like the idea of repairing rather than replacing things. But at some point, it's time to move on.) Then, again, it might not be time to move on.
It's very likely the current issue is reasonably simple. But there are other issues facing the car. And it's anyone's guess how much it will cost to address everything. It may be cheap. It may be prohibitively expensive. And given the age and miles, more problems may be coming my way.
I keep see-sawing on whether or not I want to pursue repairs. I think the following regularly: This car is the best I've ever owned! But there are some things I don't like! Practically, it could easily be cheaper to repair than replace! But it could also cost more to repair than replace. But repairing might still be better—it's the devil I know. Any car I can afford any time soon will be old, and will likely have issues. I wish the day would come that I could have a car that would be good enough to be more than a local puddle hopper. Something I could take, without thinking, on a long road trip! Cheap cars can be stressful. Maybe I should just forget cars, and just plan to use buses for the rest of my life. But that's easier said than done, at least if you live where I do.
I never come to any hard and firm conclusions, no matter how many times I run this dialog through my mind.
Perhaps fall will bring some answers...
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
In defense of Chromebooks
There are no guarantees in life, except death, taxes, and Internet comments that say Chromebooks (laptops running Chrome OS) are seriously limited. Or so I concluded as I finished reading through an Internet thread earlier talking about Chromebooks. Much of the thread was talking about the limits. Such as: "You need to be connected to the Internet to use it!" Or: "You can't run Photoshop on it!" And how we could have something much better by buying a used laptop and slapping Linux on it.
Reading all this - once again! - makes me feel like an outsider. I've been a heavy computer user since Reagan was in office, and yet I see value in Chrome OS, particularly in Chromebooks. I can even imagine owning a Chromebook.
I won't argue that there are limitations with Chromebooks. For some jobs, they aren't the best choice. For other jobs, they are pretty much an impossible choice. At least, if one wants to get the job done, and stay sane.
But for many uses, a Chromebook will work fine. It may even be the best choice for some circumstances.
The biggest limitation one hears about is that Chromebooks only work when connected to the Internet. (This is not quite true - the Chromebook will run with no connection, and can even do some things off line - but there is no doubt that they are happiest when there is an active connection.) This is presented as a Huge Problem. Except...in today's world, many - if not most - computer users are connected at all times to the Internet. Past this, there are many users who only use a computer to connect to the Internet. When the connection goes, they won't be using the computer at all - whether it is a $150 Chromebook, or a $1,500 MacBook Pro.
Chromebooks give a a nice option for the Internet-only systems. Chromebooks can be quite inexpensive - starting at under $200 in my area. They are simple to use. They are secure. Chromebooks are also small and light for those who need portability.
Meanwhile, the other "options" that get mentioned may not be the best choice for many people. Does Grandma really want to buy an old ThinkPad off eBay, and then install Linux? Does an impoverished college student really want to spend $400 on a laptop when a $250 Chromebook may do all he or she needs? Does someone travelling a lot want to carry a large $400 Windows laptop? Or risk losing a $1,000 MacBook Air?
Even more demanding users might find Chromebooks suitable for some jobs. I, myself, would not be able to get by with a Chromebook as my only computer. But if I were buying a notebook computer, I'd give serious consideration to a Chromebook. I like the low cost (I'm cheap!). I like the portability. The limitations wouldn't matter, because it would be a second computer. It would be adequate for taking notes while doing library research. I could browse the Internet while in a coffee shop. It would be enough to keep me connected to e-mail if I left town on vacation. Meanwhile, I'd still have my desktop computer available for doing real work that demands more than a Chromebook.
In the end, Chromebooks are not 100% perfect for 100% of the people 100% of the time. For that matter, no computer is 100% perfect 100% of the time. But Chromebooks can be a worthwhile option for some users.
Reading all this - once again! - makes me feel like an outsider. I've been a heavy computer user since Reagan was in office, and yet I see value in Chrome OS, particularly in Chromebooks. I can even imagine owning a Chromebook.
I won't argue that there are limitations with Chromebooks. For some jobs, they aren't the best choice. For other jobs, they are pretty much an impossible choice. At least, if one wants to get the job done, and stay sane.
But for many uses, a Chromebook will work fine. It may even be the best choice for some circumstances.
The biggest limitation one hears about is that Chromebooks only work when connected to the Internet. (This is not quite true - the Chromebook will run with no connection, and can even do some things off line - but there is no doubt that they are happiest when there is an active connection.) This is presented as a Huge Problem. Except...in today's world, many - if not most - computer users are connected at all times to the Internet. Past this, there are many users who only use a computer to connect to the Internet. When the connection goes, they won't be using the computer at all - whether it is a $150 Chromebook, or a $1,500 MacBook Pro.
Chromebooks give a a nice option for the Internet-only systems. Chromebooks can be quite inexpensive - starting at under $200 in my area. They are simple to use. They are secure. Chromebooks are also small and light for those who need portability.
Meanwhile, the other "options" that get mentioned may not be the best choice for many people. Does Grandma really want to buy an old ThinkPad off eBay, and then install Linux? Does an impoverished college student really want to spend $400 on a laptop when a $250 Chromebook may do all he or she needs? Does someone travelling a lot want to carry a large $400 Windows laptop? Or risk losing a $1,000 MacBook Air?
Even more demanding users might find Chromebooks suitable for some jobs. I, myself, would not be able to get by with a Chromebook as my only computer. But if I were buying a notebook computer, I'd give serious consideration to a Chromebook. I like the low cost (I'm cheap!). I like the portability. The limitations wouldn't matter, because it would be a second computer. It would be adequate for taking notes while doing library research. I could browse the Internet while in a coffee shop. It would be enough to keep me connected to e-mail if I left town on vacation. Meanwhile, I'd still have my desktop computer available for doing real work that demands more than a Chromebook.
In the end, Chromebooks are not 100% perfect for 100% of the people 100% of the time. For that matter, no computer is 100% perfect 100% of the time. But Chromebooks can be a worthwhile option for some users.
Fix or replace?
It began as a quiet weekend. Unfortunately, it didn't stay that way.
My mother was doing laundry. All went well, until she noticed the sound of water running when it shouldn't be running. She investigated, and found that the washer's water intake valve had broken. No big deal, she thought. Just turn off the water at the tap. She grabbed the tap handle. It was stuck. She turned harder, and the handle broke off. She then raced for pliers, which could be used to turn off what remained of the tap handle. They didn't work, either.
It was a thrilling race that evening. We kept resetting the timer dial on the washer to drain, and then racing around to find a way of shutting the water off. At least, the clothes got well rinsed that evening.
Eventually, my mother was able to get someone out who was able to get the tap turned off. There was no further disaster, like the tap breaking off the wall and letting loose an Old Faithful-like geyser. The washer was fixed the next day.
This incident is quite memorable, but the most memorable part might have taken place a few days later. I told a college professor about the washer incident. He was interested—maybe because it's fun hearing about plumbing disasters. Just as long as they aren't your own disasters, of course. But he was puzzled by something. Why did my mother have the washer fixed? Why not just buy a new washer? Particularly given how much the repair was?
That may have been the first time I heard: "Don't bother fixing it! Just buy something new!" It certainly wasn't the last. Indeed, I know of no one who has done any sort of major appliance repair in the last 20 years. It's no longer just the Maytag repairman who has nothing to do. It's the repairmen for even the worst appliance brands. Because when the washer breaks, it's off to buy a new one.
It's not just washing machines. It's almost everything smaller than a car. I can easily remember when we had a TV repair shop a mile from our house. I can also remember when it went out of business in the early eighties.
In a way, this feels strange and wasteful to me even now. I grew up in a household where the first course of action was always repair. Try and get as much service as possible out of something. My father fixed some things himself, like replacing knobs on pan lids. Other things were repaired professionally, like our TV and our washing machine.
Of course, times change... It's not as practical to fix things now. Repairs aren't cheap. A lot of what we own is cheap—both in terms of cost and also quality. Parts may not be available. Technology may have improved dramatically with some items, such as computers.
However, I sometimes do think our throw away mentality perhaps should be reexamined. Perhaps we should consider buying things that can last, and be viably repaired when needed. It surely can't be good for the environment replacing a washing machine every five years. It certainly is a huge time drain to shop for something new. And repairing things helps support local business.
Indeed, my mother's washing machine is a good example. It was not cheap new, and I'm sure my parents cringed as they wrote the check. I'm sure my mother cringed when she had to write a check for repairs. But she got more than 20 years of service out of it. It was the only washer she ever owned. And it probably cost less per year than today's approach of buying a throw away washer every five years.
My mother was doing laundry. All went well, until she noticed the sound of water running when it shouldn't be running. She investigated, and found that the washer's water intake valve had broken. No big deal, she thought. Just turn off the water at the tap. She grabbed the tap handle. It was stuck. She turned harder, and the handle broke off. She then raced for pliers, which could be used to turn off what remained of the tap handle. They didn't work, either.
It was a thrilling race that evening. We kept resetting the timer dial on the washer to drain, and then racing around to find a way of shutting the water off. At least, the clothes got well rinsed that evening.
Eventually, my mother was able to get someone out who was able to get the tap turned off. There was no further disaster, like the tap breaking off the wall and letting loose an Old Faithful-like geyser. The washer was fixed the next day.
This incident is quite memorable, but the most memorable part might have taken place a few days later. I told a college professor about the washer incident. He was interested—maybe because it's fun hearing about plumbing disasters. Just as long as they aren't your own disasters, of course. But he was puzzled by something. Why did my mother have the washer fixed? Why not just buy a new washer? Particularly given how much the repair was?
That may have been the first time I heard: "Don't bother fixing it! Just buy something new!" It certainly wasn't the last. Indeed, I know of no one who has done any sort of major appliance repair in the last 20 years. It's no longer just the Maytag repairman who has nothing to do. It's the repairmen for even the worst appliance brands. Because when the washer breaks, it's off to buy a new one.
It's not just washing machines. It's almost everything smaller than a car. I can easily remember when we had a TV repair shop a mile from our house. I can also remember when it went out of business in the early eighties.
In a way, this feels strange and wasteful to me even now. I grew up in a household where the first course of action was always repair. Try and get as much service as possible out of something. My father fixed some things himself, like replacing knobs on pan lids. Other things were repaired professionally, like our TV and our washing machine.
Of course, times change... It's not as practical to fix things now. Repairs aren't cheap. A lot of what we own is cheap—both in terms of cost and also quality. Parts may not be available. Technology may have improved dramatically with some items, such as computers.
However, I sometimes do think our throw away mentality perhaps should be reexamined. Perhaps we should consider buying things that can last, and be viably repaired when needed. It surely can't be good for the environment replacing a washing machine every five years. It certainly is a huge time drain to shop for something new. And repairing things helps support local business.
Indeed, my mother's washing machine is a good example. It was not cheap new, and I'm sure my parents cringed as they wrote the check. I'm sure my mother cringed when she had to write a check for repairs. But she got more than 20 years of service out of it. It was the only washer she ever owned. And it probably cost less per year than today's approach of buying a throw away washer every five years.
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