The rubber raft tactic

Another story from my Navy days that is still mostly true.

“We got a message from Saigon to use ship’s boats for boarding junks that have fish nets out,” the captain said.

“We don’t have boats,” the executive officer pointed out. “All we’ve got are rubber life rafts.”

“Okay, we’ll use the rubber rafts.”

Our minesweeper’s job in Vietnam was to board and search local coastal traffic, mostly fishing junks, to block North Vietnamese arms shipments and Viet Cong tax collectors. We did this by bringing each junk alongside the ship so that our boarding party could hop aboard to search for weapons and bad guys. But if the junk was trailing hundreds of yards of nylon fish nets, that was a problem because the nets could get tangled in our ship’s screws. So using ships’ boats was a good idea. If, that is, we actually had boats.

RaftBoarding336We inflated the rafts and organized boarding parties. Each raft carried an officer, a petty officer and two paddlers. We practiced deploying the rafts and paddling around the ship. My guys weren’t good at paddling and our raft kept going in circles.

A couple of days later we got a chance to try out our new boarding routine. At sunset, we spotted a fishing junk a few hundred yards away with the telltale floats of streaming fish nets. We stopped the ship, put a raft in the water and the boarding party clambered into it. Happily, it was not my team’s turn to board.

It did not look much like a military operation. Our shipboard uniform in the tropics was cutoff shorts, t-shirts, ballcaps and sandals. The Navy relaxed its grooming standards in Vietnam and most of our guys wore beards. So our armed boarding party looked like well-fed predecessors of today’s Somali pirates in an inflatable raft.

It was quiet as the boarding party paddled into the mist. The petty officer in the boarding party was an outspoken engineman with a sonorous voice and colorful vocabulary, and as the raft receded into the darkness the sound of his cursing grew fainter and eventually died out.

We waited anxiously on the deck as the ship rolled gently. The boarding party had no radio and would fire a flare pistol if they ran into trouble. After about 45 minutes we began to hear the engineman’s voice, faint at first and then an audible stream of profanity as the raft emerged from the darkness.

It had taken longer than anticipated to reach the junk because paddling the rubber raft was slow going. The Vietnamese fishermen had settled down for the night and were alarmed when our heavily armed thugs scrambled aboard their boat. An inspection quickly confirmed that this was a law-abiding fishing junk. The disappointed boarding party released the disgruntled fisherman and began the long paddle back to the ship.

We put the life rafts away and never spoke of this again.

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No tiny house for me

TinyHouseI’m fascinated by the tiny-house trend. Unless you’ve been living in a cave, you’re probably aware of the growing interest in downsizing one’s home to the size of a food truck. Lilliputian residences are showing up in magazine articles and even reality TV shows. The dinky dwellings are kind of cute: I could imagine one in my family room.

SubBunks

Some tiny houses carry torpedoes

The tiny-house enthusiasts are ingenious in finding creative ways to miniaturize a lifestyle. I marvel at the discipline of people who can fit an entire wardrobe into a gym locker and bathe in a coffin-sized bathroom. Tiny houses have come a long way since the  Unabomber pioneered the trend in the 1990s. But picturesque and stylish as they are, they look about as comfortable as the crew’s quarters on a submarine and could get tiresome for long-term living.

I am not tempted to move into a tiny house because I grew up in a tiny apartment in Chicago. Our family of four lived in three rooms on the third floor until I was 12 years old. My parents unfolded a sofa bed in a living room that also contained an upright piano, a chest of drawers with fold-down desk and a chair or two. A corner of the room next to the radiator was my favorite place to read in the winter.

My younger brother and I occupied a small bedroom with bunk beds, and we could all fit around the kitchen table with a little squeezing. Somehow, there was enough room for everything we owned in a couple of closets and a storage enclosure in the building’s basement.

The apartment didn’t feel that small at the time, at least not from a child’s perspective, but in retrospect I marvel at my parents’ ability to create a comfortable home in minimal space. We were by no means poor, but living small was what many families did in the 1940s and 50s when it took years to save up the down payment for a house.

I was grateful to leave that apartment and have lived in a succession of bigger houses ever since. I have no desire to live in a mansion but my four-bedroom house is just the right size for me, the cats and the occasional house guest. I rarely use my living room and formal dining room, but the space will come in handy next week when I host a social club dinner for 20 people.

Eventually I may move to a smaller home or condo as age catches up with me. But my next house definitely won’t be tiny.

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Court did not go far enough

As a long-time supporter of same-sex marriage, I was glad to see the Supreme Court rule in favor of nationwide marriage equality. But the decision missed an opportunity to resolve the issue once and for all.

The court’s decision won’t end the conflict. Some supporters of traditional marriage will be sore losers, and their calls for a constitutional amendment will be a useless distraction. What worries me more is that sore winners will shift from celebration to retribution. Will sincere religious objection to same-sex marriage be labeled hate speech and persecuted, as we saw in the boycott of Chick-Fil-A and the virtual lynching of the former CEO of Mozilla? I hope religious conservatives and LGBT activists will move on, but I don’t see this happening.

We can expect legal fallout as the balance between marriage equality and religious freedom gets sorted out. For instance, will faith-based nonprofits be denied government grants if they are affiliated with churches that refuse to perform same-sex marriages? Will we see more litigation that pits the government against kindly nuns? The Supremes probably not have seen the last of this issue.

The core issue the court failed to address is the artifact of government jurisdiction over what every religion considers a sacrament. The state’s only necessary function is to oversee a legal contract that confers spousal rights. Calling this contract “marriage” invites people to conflate the government with their church and empowers politicians to act like Sixteenth Century theocrats.

If we’re serious about the separation of church and state, let’s end government-sanctioned marriage and replace it with a spousal contract. That way, any two people could register as spouses at City Hall and then get married, or not, in the church of their choice. Churches would get their sacrament back, and if some churches refuse to perform gay weddings that’s their business.

I’m disappointed the Supreme Court missed an opportunity to resolve this issue once and for all. Getting government out of the marriage business might be a legal stretch, but Silly Putty interpretations of the Constitution are nothing new.

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Bring back the draft?

The idea of reinstating the military draft keeps popping up. Sometimes it’s anti-war reverse psychology: Politicians won’t start wars if their kids have to fight them. Others think it’s unfair that fewer than one percent of us actually fight America’s wars while the rest of the country would just as soon change the channel.

My military career, active and reserve, spanned the Vietnam-era draft and the transition to today’s all-volunteer force. The likelihood of being drafted was one of the reasons I joined the Navy after college, and many of my shipmates were there for the same reason.

The military I joined in 1964 was the product of 25 years of the draft and included many veterans of World War II and Korea. Some were draftees, or draft-motivated enlistees, who had made the service a career. I served with a diverse group of people who represented every region, economic class and political opinion.

But the Vietnam-era draft was neither universal not fair. The educated and affluent found it easy to avoid the draft or, if conscripted, to land a rear-echelon billet. Those inequities, combined with the unpopularity of the Vietnam War, led to the draft’s demise in 1973.

In the years that followed, I watched a growing divide between the Armed Forces and the rest of America as an active reservist from 1968 to 1992. Part of this was the result of public opposition to the Vietnam War. When I served in the Pentagon in the early 1970s we wore civilian clothes to avoid being harassed on the streets of Washington. Even after the war ended, many Americans continued to resent the military.

The feeling was mutual. Military people and their families retreated onto their bases and disengaged from the civilian community. On my reserve weekends I grew accustomed to hearing disparaging remarks about civilians from career military people. As recently as 1990 I encountered senior officers who still thought most civilians were longhaired hippies.

Geographic representation also changed. ROTC disappeared from many universities, including most of the Ivy League. Anti-military attitudes in many parts of the country prompted the services to concentrate their recruiting in the South and West. The composition of today’s military (apart from racial integration) would look familiar to Robert E. Lee.

Political diversity also diminished among service people. When I attended the Naval War College in 1984, my seminar instructor noted that the classes of two-week reservists had more varied opinions, and livelier policy discussions, than our active-duty counterparts. A more ominous sign is that voter participation among military people has declined and absentee ballot problems disenfranchise many service members.

The military-civilian divide is likely to get worse as the Armed Forces continue to shrink. The latest trend is that a growing number of new recruits come from military families, which suggests that a military caste is evolving apart from American society.

Reviving the draft could reverse this trend over time. But it would have to be much different than the traditional Selective Service system. It would have to include women and would produce many more recruits than the armed forces need.

What could work is some sort of national service with the military as one of many options. The challenge is to make it truly universal for everyone from Harvard graduates to illegal immigrants, with ways to accommodate single parents and budding criminals.

It would be a massive exercise in social engineering but could produce a variety of social benefits. Something like the 1930s Civilian Conservation Corps, for instance, could perform useful work and prepare unemployable youth to enter the work force. The most important benefit, however, is the idea that everyone has the obligation to serve his or her country.

Universal national service eventually could break down the military-civilian divide and make the services look a little more like the country they serve. And in a democracy, it’s a good idea to have a certain number of people in uniform who do not want to be there.

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Bruce Jenner for president and other politically incorrect solutions

Bruce Jenner for president

A lot of us voted for Barack Obama because he’s African-American and are ready to vote for Hillary Clinton because she’s a woman. If we are committed to identity as a major factor in electing a president, we’re in for a tedious succession of Hispanic, Asian, Muslim and gay/lesbian candidates in our noble quest for equal opportunity.

Instead, let’s go big on diversity and elect Bruce Jenner as America’s first transgender president. Think about it: Jenner’s already a celebrity, traveled overseas as an Olympian and won more medals than any Nobel laureate. If anybody can defeat the Clinton campaign organization, I’ll give the Kardashians better odds than the Republicans. Wouldn’t that campaign be fun!

Eat the prairie chicken

Yum!

Yum!

There’s a big federal program to preserve the lesser prairie chicken as an endangered species. That’s controversial because the oil and ranching industries could take a big hit. I’m all for saving the prairie chicken. It looks tasty and I’ll bet it’s good to eat.

Nukes for Ukraine

At the end of the cold war, Ukraine gave up its nuclear weapons because Russia, the United States and Great Britain signed a treaty in 1994 to guarantee Ukraine’s sovereignty and territorial integrity. All three countries welched on that deal. So we’re obligated to give those nuclear weapons back to the Ukrainians. Fair is fair. Then we’ll really see a cease-fire.

Motorcycle helmet law

New Mexico made another attempt to pass a law requiring motorcycle riders to wear helmets with the usual arguments of individual liberty vs. safety. I think motorcyclists should have the freedom to go helmetless if they choose. But first they should be required to register as organ donors.

 

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Tough love for unions

Unions are commemorating the 104th anniversary of a tragic factory fire that triggered an historic campaign for workplace safety. It’s a reminder that organized labor deserves credit for much of the workplace progress of the 20th century – and how little unions have accomplished in this century.

I knock unions a lot. After all, I handled communications for the management side in labor disputes and half a dozen strikes. But I’d hate to see unions disappear.

Organized labor may be in a death spiral. Union membership continues to drop even though the most pro-union federal administration in history has stacked the deck in their favor. Unions rely mostly on government-sanctioned coercion to attract and retain members, which is why they see right-to-work laws as an existential threat.

Part of the problem is that unions have worked themselves out of a job. Worker rights now are embedded in law and won’t go away if unions disappear.

Unions also are victims of their own excess. When they overpower management the enterprise becomes uncompetitive. Union representation in the private sector has diminished because union-dominated industries have lost jobs to overseas competition. Organized labor today is primarily a political engine that collects dues from government employees to elect compliant politicians.

I have little use for unions in government but believe they play an important role in the private sector. Unions, and the threat of unionization, keep employers honest. During my business career I saw no indication that managers are getting kinder or gentler. However, they are bright enough to understand that they can keep unions out by paying employees well and treating them fairly. Unions currently win more than half of certification votes, and companies whose workers vote for a union in a fair, secret-ballot election deserve what they get.

Unions can thrive in a right-to-work environment if they reform and adapt to the current century. Here is what union reform could look like:

  • Give union members more power. Many unions are run like banana republics and some even have hereditary leaders. If unions were held to the same standard of governance as corporations, rank-and-file members would have the same rights as stockholders. They could elect their national officers, vote on their leaders’ salaries and have a say in political contributions.
  • Make unions more accountable to their members by holding a re-certification vote every five years or so. This is equally risky for employers: If employees kick their union out, that opens the door for a tougher union to organize them.
  • Stop treating teachers and other professionals like assembly-line workers by embracing merit pay and performance management instead of shielding the incompetent. This could make union membership more attractive to millions of administrative and technical workers who could benefit from representation.
  • Get back to organizing employees who actually want a union instead of spending millions on the futile Astroturf campaign against Walmart. Union organizing in recent years has brought dignity to immigrant janitors and improved staffing in hospitals.

Unions won’t reform voluntarily so long as politicians continue to prop them up. That’s starting to change at the state level as voters support right-to-work laws and push back against soaring public employee benefit and pension costs. Even the federal government is distancing itself from the teachers’ unions in its school reform initiatives. A more significant trend is that environmental groups are beginning to supplant unions as the cash cow of the Democratic party, as evidenced by Democratic opposition to the union-supported Keystone Pipeline.

Unions are headed for rocky times and may fight their way into oblivion. But wouldn’t it be great if they transformed themselves into organizations that workers would be willing to join voluntarily?

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Confessions of a weather snob

Albuquerque got an unusual six inches of snow last night. The skiers are ecstatic, the city is paralyzed and I get to annoy my neighbors once again with tales of my hometown of Chicago. Yes, I’m a weather snob.

While any precipitation is welcome in the high desert, Albuquerque is poorly equipped to handle snow because we get so little of it. One of the reasons I moved here is that snow is mostly optional. I can look out the window and see snow on the mountains and, if I were so inclined, could be on a ski slope in an hour. But I rarely have to shovel my driveway because the typical inch or two of snow in the city usually melts by afternoon.

Morning

Morning

Snow2Feb15

Afternoon

When my neighbors complain about the occasional snowfall, I am ready with ridicule. We have a name for this kind of weather where I come from. We call it springtime.

If New Mexicans are spoiled by temperate weather, Chicagoans are spoiled by efficient snow removal. I’ve learned that I cannot expect streets in Albuquerque to be plowed promptly, and that even a few inches of snow can close schools and interstate highways. The best strategy is to stay at home for a few hours until the snow melts off the streets.

Chicago has had a history of aggressive snow removal since 1979, when a record snow paralyzed the city. As a result the mayor, who was on vacation in Florida at the time, was voted out of office a couple of months later. For years afterward, hundreds of snowplows would hit the streets whenever a snowflake appeared.

Many New Mexicans love winter sports, and I’m told the Taos and Santa Fe ski slopes are among the best in the country. I’ve always considered snow something to be endured rather than celebrated. It’s easy to feel that way after you’ve shoveled the same cubic yard of snow the city snowplow shoves across your driveway day after day. I was never tempted to travel from snow-covered Chicago to a snow-covered ski resort, and bought a beachfront timeshare in Mexico instead.

I’m sure I’ll hear all about today’s snow when I meet a group of friends this evening. I can’t wait to tell them about the time I had to shovel snow off my roof in Chicago.

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From the ringing briefcase to the iPhone

I finally broke down and got an iPhone a year ago. I carry it when I’m out and about, but most of the time it sits on the kitchen counter. Some days I don’t use it all because my retirement lifestyle doesn’t require much instantaneous communication.

I’ve been using cell phones almost since they were invented. When I was working for Illinois Bell in Chicago, I handled publicity for the first customer trial of cell phones in 1978. Those phones were permanently installed in cars with a suitcase-sized electronics package in the trunk and twin antennas on the roof. They cost thousands of dollars but were quickly snapped up by busy business folks.

During the trial I participated in an informal brainstorming session to suggest a name for the new service. “Bell on wheels” and “ring-a-ding-along” were quickly rejected. AT&T decided to call it Advanced Mobile Phone Service, or AMPS:  the kind of name you night expect from a company dominated by engineers. The name did not stick.

Full commercial service did not start until 1982 because it took longer for the Federal Communications Commission to allocate frequencies and figure out how to regulate the service than for Bell Laboratories and Motorola to develop the technology. (Yes, that’s the same agency that now intends to regulate the Internet.)

BrickPhoneAs a telephone company guy, I occasionally used cell phones at work. The first portable model, which we called the “boat anchor,” had a battery pack about the size and weight of a bowling ball. Then came the handset-on-steroids “brick.” “Hey, your briefcase is ringing,” someone told me.

The convenience of carrying a phone was a big deal in those days. My work often required me to keep in touch with the office and made me a frequent user of pay phones and pagers — both of which have practically disappeared. I still make it a point to stay reachable by forwarding calls from my home phone to my cell whenever I go out.

Apart from business calls, I was never a heavy cell phone user. I used to marvel at the folks who seemed to spend most of their time shouting into their phones (in the supermarket checkout line) in the days when a lengthy cell phone call was a ten-dollar holler. I’m just as puzzled by people who walk into light poles while gazing down at their smartphones. One of my pet peeves at the gym is people who get engrossed in their phones while occupying the Nautilus machine I’m waiting for. I leave my phone in my locker.

In 1992, about the time cell phones became widespread, a personal-injury lawyer introduced the theory that cell phones cause brain cancer. Since then, scores of studies have failed to establish a link between phone usage and cancer, but alarmists and lawyers remain hopeful. If cell phones really did cause cancer, thousands of the most annoying phone addicts would have removed themselves from the gene pool by now. We should be so lucky. Brain cancer fear should become a non-issue as text messages outstrip voice calls, but may be replaced by some sort of carpal-thumb syndrome.

Early cell phones came with a stern warning to not use the phone while driving — which was universally ignored and quickly dropped. Laws prohibiting driving with handheld phones have not fared much better. I may be the only person in Albuquerque who uses a Bluetooth headset behind the wheel.

Cell phones were second phones for most people in the 1980s and 90s because dropped calls and poor voice quality were common. That’s changed as cell phone service has improved and landline/cable service has deteriorated. I now use my iPhone, rather than my home phone, for conference calls and eventually may scrap the home phone entirely.

I don’t communicate much with my iPhone but like having my contact list, calendar, email and photos synchronized with my iPad and Mac. I used a smartphone app to navigate the subway system on a recent visit to Washington, DC. Other apps lead me back to where I parked my car, help me calculate the tip in a restaurant and check prices at nearby gas stations. iPhone apps promise to be even more useful as senior moments occupy more of my waking hours.

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Internet history: when the modem played polka music

It’s easy to take the Internet for granted. I keep in touch with friends on Facebook and check random facts online the moment a question pops into my head. My generation may be among the last to remember what life was like before Google became a verb.

I began using email around 1980, and in 1983 a colleague in the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA) launched the Public Relations and Marketing Forum on CompuServe (a predecessor of America Online). The forum, which included email and a chat room, eventually grew to more than 20,000 members.

At about the same time, information began moving online with services like Lexis, a legal database for lawyers, and Nexis, a database of news articles that immediately became popular among journalists and public relations people. None of this was interconnected: We had to rent a separate terminal to retrieve and print Nexis articles, and could not download them or share them on our own corporate network.

The promise of the Internet was exciting, even in those days, but technical limitations got in the way. Memory was limited, processors were poky and using a modem to send data over ordinary telephone lines was painfully slow. The draft of this blog post – a 120KB Microsoft Word document – would take 53 minutes to transmit with a 300 bps modem vs. a fraction of a second with the 50 Mbps cable broadband connection I have today.

So the online chat sessions I enjoyed on the CompuServe PR forum ran at a snail’s pace and encouraged multitasking. I would post a comment to the chat room and go downstairs to get a cup of coffee. When a response eventually appeared on my screen, I would type another comment and then read the newspaper for a while. It was what Citizen’s Band radio might have been like on Quaaludes. A telephone conference call would have been faster, but our commitment to the technology outweighed the inconvenience.

In the early 1990s, technical limitations meant that the desktop-publishing file for an employee newspaper I edited was too large to fit on a floppy disk. To work with an outside designer I would set up a modem connection to transmit the file, then get in my car and drive 45 minutes to arrive at the designer’s house about the time the file reached his computer.

Getting online with a modem involved listening to a series of squeaks and squawks until a fax-like scream indicated a successful connection. When I connected a modem to my first Macintosh in 1990, the modem kept emitting a faintly musical chirping and failed to connect. I wondered if it might be picking up a local ethnic radio station a half-mile from my house and turned on the radio to compare the sounds. Sure enough, my modem was receiving the Polish Hour. So I called the modem manufacturer’s help desk to complain that my modem was playing polka music. That’s never happened before, I was told. The solution was to wrap the modem’s phone cord in tinfoil. Honest. And it worked.

Online chat rooms and email listservs created a new kind of community, a precursor of today’s social media. In the Compuserve PR forum I got acquainted with my peers around the country, and about 20 of us met face-to-face for the first time at the 1984 PRSA national convention in Denver. In the 1990s several listservs for people who stutter gave me a multinational circle of friends who occasionally had “eyeball” sessions at the annual National Stuttering Association conference.

The Internet also changed the end product of my work. After a career of killing trees, most of my writing in the last decade has appeared online rather than on paper in the atoms-to-bits evolution that is beginning to dominate the economy. So I can no longer call myself an ink-stained wretch. One thing I like about publishing online is the ability to incorporate Internet links that amplify and clarify what I’m writing: something you can’t do with dead trees and a Linotype.

Best of all, the technical limitations I endured for years have practically disappeared. I no longer worry about filling up my computer’s hard drive or spend long minutes gazing at a whirling beachball on the screen. The Internet satisfies my news-junkie appetite for the latest information – unless I get distracted by cat videos.

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Remembering computers in the Stone Age

I don’t think about my computer, at least not consciously, because it’s integrated into my life almost seamlessly: my calendar, checkbook, photo album, newspaper. Best of all, it’s an extension of my mind that allows me to express myself almost effortlessly.

The process of putting words on paper for a living was what eventually led me to computers. In my first newspaper job in the 1960s I used a manual typewriter, carbon paper and a jar of rubber cement to literally piece stories together (hence the cut and paste word processing commands). As a speechwriter, media relations manager and publication editor I filled wastebaskets writing and rewriting thousands of words a week. It was a lot of work, often followed by a frustrating wait as a typist produced the finished news release or speech manuscript just in time for the deadline.

dec_vt78_2So the invention of the word processor was a big deal for me. The Navy office where my reserve unit met got a DEC (Digital Equipment Corporation) word processor in 1979, and I went in after hours to teach myself how to create and edit documents and store them on 8-inch floppy disks. It took an entire evening to figure out that the machine would not print unless I turned on the printer before powering up the word processor, and that pounding on the equipment did not help.

A few years later my company, Illinois Bell, assigned me to project-manage a computer system for the 200-employee public relations department. We chose a DEC system driven by a couple of minicomputers with an array of computer terminals and desktop word processors (before the IBM PC came on the market). It took a year to get the project approved by a corporate IT establishment that was accustomed to mainframe mega-systems and could not understand why we wanted a terminal on every desk.

The system was an immediate hit because word processing and email streamlined the cycle of writing, editing and approval that dominated our work. Some folks learned faster than others. A short-tempered colleague would appear at my office door ranting when his machine would not respond to invective. When I sent one executive an email, his secretary printed it out for him and I received his handwritten answer via interoffice mail the following day.

The people on my project team were the first to use email, and our communications were extremely informal and often irreverent. Shortly after we opened email to the rest of the department I noticed one woman recoiling from her terminal in shock. I asked her what was wrong and she pointed to an email on her screen from one of my team members that included a barnyard epithet. “That man… swore,” she exclaimed. Email quickly evolved into a more conventional corporate memo.

In those days everybody was talking about the paperless office. Wish I’d bought stock in a paper company. At first everybody used dot-matrix line printers that sounded like ripping paper. Our system at Illinois Bell had an early Xerox laser printer that was the size of a Maytag, cost about $25,000 and rarely worked. By the mid-1980s we were using better-functioning Canon desktop laser printers that cost about $8,000. These days I replace a printer when a new machine costs less than a replacement ink cartridge for the old one.

TRS-80_Model_100I began experimenting with portable computing in the 1980s with a Radio Shack TRS-80 Model 100 laptop: an ingenious three-pound machine with an 8-line LED screen, 8KB memory and full-size keyboard. It was popular with newspaper reporters because it had a built-in modem, ran on flashlight batteries and was practically idiot-proof.

Meanwhile, I got an Apple II at home and upgraded to a Macintosh in the early 1990s. I programmed the Mac to meow like a cat, which fascinated my cat and amused me. Until, that is, a technician told me my malfunctioning disk drive had a hairball. After I left corporate life in 1990, home computing made it easy for me to start a freelance business because the technology in my basement was as good as the computers in my clients’ corporate offices.

Over the years I’ve had a succession of Macs, printers and assorted peripherals. I’ve opened computer cases to add RAM chips and even gave one Mac a processor upgrade. Each successive generation of computers, including my current Mac laptop, has been easier to use and more trouble-free than the last.

Most of all, I appreciate the way computers have made writing easier and more fun than ever. I can put words together quickly and edit relentlessly without the mechanics of the process getting between me and my readers.

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