Measuring Progress By The Cord
My enlightenment to this peculiar fact had its genesis on October 31, 1985, the day I exchanged a hard-earned $2,100 for a computer. Pronounced angst accompanied the transaction whim and curiosity let me to.
I secured a used Apple Macintosh, a squatty, beige case with a diminutive nine-inch screen. A sleek, trim little lizard, I thought she kicked digital dust into the faces of the boxy dinosaurs with gaudy, green-eyed monitors roaming the desks at work.
Despite initial doubts, however, I discovered that letters, magazine articles and Bible studies flowed almost effortlessly to the printer without erasures. Goodbye, faithful portable typewriter and carbon paper! So long, correction fluid!
Quite compact, the whole setup could be quickly stowed away if necessary. Progress had arrived for the reasonable cost of just two cords: one for the computer, another for the printer.
For months I lugged the little Mac to work in its canvas tote bag. But when the battle for corporate personal computer dominance heated up, the Macintosh melted down at our company. Reluctantly, I defected to the legions in the enemy camp.
Soon, a new desktop computer--one of the boxy dinosaurs this time--began to make serious incursions into our family. Our son needed it both for school and for his business, so it camped at the foot of his bed. Email gained a foothold. Add cords for monitor and speakers not needed on the old Mac.
Time has brought a succession of newer, more advanced hardware to quench the technological thirst de jour--and more cords. A scanner and cable modem have crept in. The tangle under my desk sprawls one cord at a time.
A few months back, I succumbed to a laptop computer. Add a cord for its battery. Soon thereafter, a wireless router and a miscellany of "wall warts" jockeyed for a limited number of outlets. Batteries in cell phones, digital camera and Palm OS device clamor for juice.
Speaker phone, answering machine, pencil sharpener and paper shredder waggle their respective cords. The same with floor lamp and table lamp.
Having existed without a computer until Halloween 1985, though, I see both "trick" and "treat" in my computer decisions--or in any decision.
Treats abound: good gained, obstacles overcome, goals accomplished. Manifold benefits accompany right choices.
But some decisions take us further than we want to go. What begins as a whim may become a way of life. Curiosity satisfied may facilitate a lifestyle. Actions beget reactions.
The inviolable equation that choice equals consequence plus cost must be satisfied and solved in every realm of life. The trick is in knowing which choices to avoid--and following through.
Progress comes at a cost, but I complain not. If I want the benefit of technology, I accept and endure the cords. So if I can find space today for my new photo printer, I must also locate an open outlet.
Copyright 2004 James McAlister
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