Note: My email has been misbehaving lately, making it difficult to get out my newsletter. You can always click on the "Workshop & Course Schedule" button above to see what's happening. And add your email in the "Follow Brian by Email" button off to the right under my bio to be sure you don't miss any postings. Happy holiday! – Brian
“It’s just like
Christmas morning!” declared the geeky guy in the Apple Store as he began to
unpack the MacBook Air I’d just purchased.
My lip was quivering and
tears began to roll down my cheeks. “No
it isn’t,” I spat at him. “It’s good
Friday. Crucifixion day!”
I was quite resistant to
move from my old PC to the Almighty Mac, despite the sense it made to do
so. No more anti-virus software, no more
guilt about forgetting to backup files (Macs do it automatically onto a cloud),
and no more fuss trying to trade files with my daughter Cathy (she fell into
the arms of Mac long ago). Plus of course, Macs have the reputation of being
better for creative pursuits, and I’m always intending to engage in more
creative pursuits.
Luckily for the geeky
sales guy and me, we weren’t alone. Dear
calm Cathy, who could clearly understand both the Christmas morning and Good
Friday perspectives on this purchase, became the instant bridge. She grabbed the attention of the horrified
salesperson, trying to give me enough privacy to gather my polite self enough
to rejoin consumer heaven.
With a bit of
uncertainty, the sales geek turned his full attention to Cathy, his back to me,
and proceeded to rave about the wonderful features of the MacBook Air, woefully
unaware that Cathy has already owned one for a couple of years.
My tears subsided, but
my decorum had some distance to travel.
Cathy turned to me, asking the young man to pause for a moment. “Do you want to wait on a bench in the mall?”
Grateful, I left her my
credit card and jumped at the chance.
“Call me when I have to sign,” I chirped and abruptly left the
store.
I’ve always struggled
with computers. When I was a teacher, my
classroom was the recipient of the first computer in the school. The father of one of my students died quite
suddenly. Instead of a tombstone, the
student’s mother decided to use the money to buy computers for her two
children’s classrooms. Mine was one of
them.
If that’s not pressure to learn
how to use it, I don’t know what is. The
children did better than I did learning how to use it – foreshadowing the
future.
Years later when I had
my own PC, I took several courses, trying to learn how to use it, but dropped
out of most of them in frustration. Finally, a good friend decided he would
teach me for a bottle of single malt scotch.
“I know how you
learn!” Bob declared. “I’m sure I can teach you!”
My education began by him
moving the gigantic machine into my dining room.
“For the first week,
just talk to it at least once a day. If
you can do it more than once a day, it will speed up the learning process,” he
explained. “Don’t touch it. Just talk to it.”
And so I did. Within a month, he had me emailing friends
near and far. He did
know how I learn! Nothing could motivate
me more than this magical means of keeping in touch with my friends and family.
My learning grew from there. He earned
his bottle of scotch.
Now, I my computer is an object with great personal significance to me. It connects me with friends and family on a
regular basis. It holds memories through
my many photographs of people and places – photographs not only filed by event
and chronology, but also arranged so that they appear randomly as a screen
saver. Every day I take a few moments to
gaze at these photos and my heart fills with gratitude at the rich and abundant
life I’ve been privileged to lead.
But my relationship with
the MacBook Air was hard won.
The funniest part of
all? My first degree is in math and
computer science!
Lori Edey has worn a
variety of hats: cook, teacher,
minister, counsellor/therapist among them.
The last several years, she’s been playing “dress up” with that of
writer, trying not to take herself or her writing too seriously. A convert to cats, she lives a
“pussy-whipped” existence with her partner and beloved felines in Dundas.
See Brian Henry’s schedule here, including writing
workshops and creative writing courses in Barrie, Brampton, Bolton, Burlington, Caledon, Cambridge,
Collingwood, Georgetown, Guelph, Hamilton, Kingston, London, Midland,
Mississauga, Newmarket, Niagara on the Lake, Orillia, Oakville, Ottawa,
Peterborough, St. Catharines, Stouffville, Sudbury, Toronto, Halton,
Kitchener-Waterloo, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.
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