babes In Boyland Aug.

Ten year old boys come in two varieties; athletic and beefy, or knees and elbows geeky. My friend’s son Andrew is of the second type.

I got a phone call from my friend asking me to drive down to Vegas for her fiftieth birthday party. While I was on the phone with her, Andrew asked to speak to me.

“Hey Beth,” he yelled in his pre-teen froggy voice, “guess what I got? My own computer!”

That’s pretty cool, Andrew, what did you get?”

“A Mac SE” he boasted. “It’s not like mom’s computer, though, it’s different.”

The old Mac had been handed down to Andrew from a family friend. It was given to him so that he could improve his keyboarding skills over the summer vacation. It was his to keep. I told him that I’d bring some games and stuff for him that I had on disks, and show him a few tricks.

Saturday morning dawned hot and arid. The air conditioning fan in my truck was busted, so I left Southern Utah pretty early to avoid the blistering heat of the high desert for the two hour drive. On the way down, I reflected on the early days of the Macintosh: black and white monitors, no CD-ROM, minimal RAM. I had packed a ton of old disks, grateful that I’d had the foresight to store them properly. Where did I get so many old disks, anyway? Perhaps, like coathangers, they propagate in the dark recesses of the night in a manner unknown to humans.

Andrew was first out the door when I arrived.

“Come on, I want to show you my computer,” he shouted.

“Hang on, champ, let me get my stuff in the house and say hi to your mom. Here, you carry these.” I handed him the bag full of disks. His eyes bulged.

“Are these for me?” he croaked. I smiled. The simple pleasure of handing a bag of old disks to a young kid had made my day. Useless to me, I had hung on to them in some sort of sentimental fashion, or maybe it was just laziness. Stored for years in a dark cupboard, untouched and forgotten until the phone call, a bag full of old disks had changed the day for the better. Life is full of surprising simple pleasures.

Once the howdys and hugs and ‘how are ya’ pleasantries were aside, I was dragged by the hand into Andrew’s room and shown “The Computer.” Gosh, how long had it been since I’d seen an old system like that? Having spent the last several years working with PowerMacs, and perusing the weekly catalogues and websites filled with new and the future systems, it was astonishing to see that old SE perched on the desk, connected to the dot matrix printer with the fan-fold paper.

“Okie doke, let’s see what you already know.”

Andrew settled himself at his desk, reached behind the computer, and hit the on switch.

“This isn’t like my mom’s computer.” he said. “It’s different. Don’t tell my mom I said this, but I think my computer has a neater face.” I asked him what he meant by that. “You know, it’s face, it’s face.” He looked at me like I was stupid. Then it occurred to me he was talking about the desktop. It didn’t matter to this kid who had grown up with nothing but color on TVs and video games that his computer was black and white. Having never seen a Mac before, he intuitively understood from the compelling simplicity of the desktop design that he had a “neater” computer than his mom.

Like other kids his age, he grew up surrounded by computers. I took a seat next to him and he showed me a few things. He didn’t do too badly, but I could see that his experience was from working with PCs, so I took him through a simple tutorial: how to rebuild the desktop; use the Find File; key commands; the Apple Menu items; how to get info and what it meant; how to use the Trash can and empty the Trash; and how to shut down properly. We played with the disks I had brought, some of which worked, and some which didn’t. We loaded MacDraw. (All those who remember what a marvel MacDraw was at one time, please raise your hands.)

“How come this is so easy, Beth?” he asked. I smiled.

“Because it’s a Mac, Andrew. That’s why.”

“Well, then I’m not EVER going to have anything but a Mac,” he replied.

I was grateful that the heat of the day and the busted fan motor had forced me to make that early drive; grateful that the SE had been well cared for. It still ran like a top. And I was grateful that my limited knowledge and old disks had made a positive difference in this kid’s day.

I have no doubt that in no time at all, Andrew will be outcomputing me. He will probably be the one I call on in the future to get me out of a jam. In just a couple hours time, without fear, a ten-year-old had easily picked up the intuitiveness of this computer, and was navigating it in a way that had taken me (at age 39 and full of fear when I had my first Mac), a year to learn.

It was time to shut down and get ready for the party. “I’ll make you a deal, kiddo”, I said. “You start saving your money, and I’ll match you dollar for dollar on a used iMac when you get enough saved.”

“What’s an iMac?” he asked.

Life is full of simple pleasures. I just can’t wait to show Andrew the iMac. Maybe the next time I’m in Vegas, I’ll take him to a computer store. Won’t that be fun?

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Beth Lock
beth@infowest.com