Life was simpler, back then. Slower paced.
In middle and high school, aka the late 1970s and early ‘80s, my routine remained the same: I woke early, ate breakfast while scanning the Philadelphia Inquirer’s sports section, and then hightailed it for the bus stop. The only tech some of us kids possessed were calculators, digital watches, various Mattel handheld games and the Atari 2600 console, which—at least in my world—gathered dust after an initial burst of enthusiasm. Lasting forever in Space Invaders mattered a lot less when a quarter wasn’t on the line!
Post-school fun varied, but often found us gathering in front of a friend’s home—just up the street from my house—and playing variations of football, baseball and basketball, all while a radio tuned to WIFI-92 blared in the background. (Street hockey was generally out due to the sloped roads in our suburban enclave.) Weekends consisted of much of the same, though movies were frequently in play, too. Nights were primarily the domain of homework, music and TV—though not always in that order.
At some point, most likely for Christmas, my parents gifted me with a portable typewriter. (I don’t remember the brand, just that it was orange and looked remarkably similar to the one pictured on this page.) I clicked and clacked on it throughout high school and college, and then for my first burst of published reviews in the late 1980s. I wrote short stories and several never-finished novels on it.
Diane and I purchased our first computer at some point in 1991—a secondhand x286 IBM clone that my father, much more tech-oriented than me, picked out for us. We picked up a 2800 baud modem, too, and used it to connect to the walled paradise that was the Prodigy service. Much of our free time was not spent on the computer, however. When not out and about, we often wasted away nights playing board games and listening to music via our five-CD player. Or watched TV, read books and flipped through magazines.
Thirty-three years later, however, and computers—either my MacBook Pro or iPhone, which sports specs far more powerful than that old x286—have become central players in my life. According to Apple’s helpful time tracker, last week I averaged a little more than five hours every day on both the computer and smartphone. I’m typing away on the MacBook right now, for instance, phone resting beside it so that I can see whatever alerts pop up. I stream music, listen to downloads, check CNBC and the news sites, research my blog posts, and browse social media for far longer than I should. Even in the Mazda3 Time Machine, I’m usually tapped into Apple CarPlay despite paying for SiriusXM.
At some point in the early afternoon, however, I always leave the MacBook behind. I turn on the TV, usually, but almost always have my phone near me. For a time, I purposely picked subtitled fare; reading the dialog forces you to focus on the screen. I don’t so much now, but do strive not to multitask.
What my life would look like without the computer: I’d probably be tap-tap-tapping away on that same portable orange-colored typewriter while the stereo played my latest favorite platter. Years ago, I wrote a poem that opened with: “Life without a porpoise/swimming in a dream….” I don’t remember the remaining lines, unfortunately, but recall that it focused on the role goals and aspirations play in life. I’d likely still be writing (hopefully) witty and poetic ripostes, in other words.
The Old Grey Cat 
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