When our boxes arrived the family gathered to watch me assemble the components. After I was done I flipped the appropriate switches and a pale green screen stared back at me, its cursor blinking unflinchingly.
“Bring it on,” it seemed to be saying, “I’ve frustrated people smarter than you.”
Then my wife, Rebekah, took a turn. Much later and aware of her growing discouragement, our son, Andrew, who was 6 at the time, offered to help.
“Don’t worry Mama,” he said, patting her on the arm, “it just takes some people longer than others.”
Thus began my love-hate relationship with technology. I need it, I use it, I develop a small base of working knowledge, my confidence grows, and then someone in Seattle or California goes and changes all the rules.
When it comes to gadgetry, I’m afraid the ubiquitous built-in obsolescence factor is looking right back at me from the bathroom mirror. That is why it’s so nice to have reared my own help desk. Andrew really is very patient, and that’s going to be increasingly handy as the next few decades hit us at breakneck speed. Then, of course, there will be more widgets, thingamajigs and doohickeys, plus eventually a grandchild or two to help with whatever comes along next.
At graduation last month Andrew scored a new laptop. A miraculous wonder not even “Star Trek” creator Gene Roddenberry could have possibly imagined back in 1988. My desktop dinosaur (circa 2001) is not even in the same galaxy.
“What do you want?” we asked him.
“An XPS Core 2 Duo GeForce 7400 TurboCache Media Center Edition,” he said.
Or something like that.
“What on earth is that?” I asked someone in the know at the know-how store.
“Something you can’t afford that does stuff I don’t understand,” the helpful expert replied.
Then he looked at my son.
“What you want to do your dad like that for?” he said.
Well he got his DuoForce TurboCore MediaX thingy, and I must admit the wow factor really is pretty huge. Then he pooled his Christmas money and purchased an iPod Nano. I’d heard about iPods but never really paid attention, kind of a “who needs one more thing” response to yet another device I couldn’t understand.
Andrew gave us a quick demo. The thing’s so simple it makes sense right away, and it’s the size of a credit card, good grief. Then he gave me some ear buds and let me listen. I still can’t believe the pure rich quality of the sound. A few minutes later he took me to the iTunes software on his computer and I was hooked.
Now I have his “old” laptop. It is cleaned up and restored so it runs good as new. I’ve parked it on the kitchen counter so we can use it for Internet access and music, and I’ve launched the enormous task of converting our extensive CD collection to digital files. In a few more days and for the first time in history, all our music will be cataloged, cross-referenced and easily accessible.
I’m writing about this today because along with the music, I downloaded several gigabytes of hope. I think the penny has finally dropped for me when it comes to technology and I’m beginning to see where a wedge of common language might be driven into the small openings that remain in a world increasingly determined to foster isolation via misunderstanding and fear.
Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t believe technology has the power to save us. But I do believe there is so much more we can do to communicate the message of freedom and of peace other than killing people and blowing things up.
Just maybe our rapidly evolving ability to communicate might eventually put enough regular people on the same page that we can begin to reach some common understanding. Now if Steve Jobs can just tweak my computer so I can run this column in Farsi. …

Derek Maul is a writer who lives in Valrico. You can reach him at .