A Frightening Experience

 

I want to tell you about my recent scare – a frightening experience which occurred recently and one I am still struggling with. And it is my own fault, since I was unable to leave well-enough alone, and I plunged into new technology for which I am totally unprepared.

The change that I am about to tell began some months ago when I noticed my computer had begun acting up, refusing to respond instantly to my commands, seemingly reluctant to do even the simplest chores.  I ignored the problem for a while in the presumption that it was just a symptom of age. After all, my beloved computer was now several years old and I presumed that maybe it was just that; the old girl was feeling her age a bit, slowing down just like me.

 Over the next several weeks other symptoms of aging became noticeable: some of the lettering on her keys were missing and a few were totally illegible. She also seemed to run out of power quickly, and only the slightest bump caused her to drop her power cord. I finally came to the fateful conclusion – it was time to give up on the old girl and buy a new computer. Of course, I would see to it that she was given a thoughtful end appropriate to our long and happy times together. Not just any dumpster would do after all our hours together.

And so, I began my search for a new machine, thus paying less attention to my old one. Since I have a reputation to uphold, (that of being a cheap-skate) I decided to begin my search for a new machine at Sam’s Club, where I had purchased my last machine. This was based on the assumption of Sam’s superiority in offering the lowest prices for things. Unfortunately, Sam’s had virtually no inventory of laptop computers. With no patience for advanced planning, I was forced to seek family advice about another source for cheap computers. Of course, I turned to my granddaughters.

“The best place is Micro Center,” they said, “You’ll like it, it’s a super center for all things electronic.”

That was almost the kiss of death. The truth was that I was afraid of any computer store where my ignorance about the world of electronics would be on full display. My solution was to convince my granddaughters to accompany me to the super store and point out the computer that they each had at home. My theory was that if was good enough for a 14-year-old, it would be good enough for me and I could avoid the embarrassment of demonstrated ignorance.

The store lived up to my worst fear. It seemed that every computer maker on earth had a display of their offerings. We began at ASSUS, then moved to ACER, and we were heading toward APPLE before being approached by a salesman, a young man who had just left the set of The Big Bang Theory. I knew I was a goner when he asked what kind of machine I wanted and how many Gigabytes were required to satisfy my needs … or something like that. I mumbled a reply just as one of the granddaughters whispered to me that the ACER machine on display looked just like hers. I told the salesman that was the machine I was interested in. The next part of the salesman’s pitch was a jumble of information about solid-state electronics replacing spinning disks and other mysterious blather that seemed mostly nonsense to me. After he went on a bit, I told him the ACER machine was the one I wanted and he flashed a big smile.

“I’ll take it up to the check-out lane for you,” he smiled again as he asked how else he could help. I asked about transferring files and he explained that for just a few dollars more I could get the largest available thumb drive from the check-out kiosk. “Just tell the checkout clerk what you need,” he said through another smile that was becoming tiresome.

Everything seemed to be falling in place until I mentioned my ongoing upset with Microsoft, and their recent threats to shut me down since I hadn’t sent them any money recently. Apparently, my old computer had reported to Microsoft that my subscription to Office 365 was coming to an end, and Bill Gates and his team were sorry that I hadn’t sent them a payment to insure continued availability of the software. The computer salesman seemed sympathetic to my tale, and I brightened to the fact that he seemed baffled by Microsoft and their intransience in the matter of the Office software. Maybe he was a man like me, after all. He broke the spell with his next sentence.

“I can fix that for you. Why don’t you buy your very own copy of Office 365 and load it onto your new machine and never bother with Mr. Gates or his underlings again?” He paused before concluding the sale when he mentioned as an afterthought that having my own Office 365 would occasion a $150 add to the price of the computer, a paltry sum in consideration of the ongoing licensing fee of $100. This turn of the conversation buoyed my confidence and I quickly replied with what I hoped sounded like a nonchalance answer, “Sure, add the 365 software to the bill.” This provoked yet another smile.

I left the store with all the things the salesman said I needed and breathed a sigh of relief as I began the trip home, assuming that the frightful experience was about to end. How little I knew at that point.

I stopped at my son’s house to drop off the granddaughters and brag about my new computer. I managed to solicit some advice from my computer savvy son about setting up the new machine at home. He said the first step should be to copy the files from my old machine and then use the thumb drive to make the transfer. Copying the files from my old computer to the giant-sized thumb drive went smoothly. It was probably because my son did it for me. After I arrived at home, I was on my own to set up the new machine in my home office.

I opened the box expecting to find instructions about getting started. Sure enough, inside was the new computer and a small pamphlet entitled SetUp [sic] Guide. The guide was four pages long; one page with two giant pictures was in English and the remaining pages were written in an indecipherable foreign language. The English portion had but two instructions: plug in the machine then turn it on and follow the onscreen instructions. [I believe I could have gotten that far myself] The pictures were an illustration of the power cord and second drawing was a picture of the start button. Apparently, the ACER executives believe that is all that computer users need to know.

 I did what the Setup Guide said to do, but nothing of consequence happened after I turned on the machine. Technically, that’s not true. Something happened but I couldn’t figure out how it was supposed to help me learn the operating parameters of the machine. Much later I deduced what was supposed to happen. Before explaining this, you need to know that modern electronics are inexorably tied to the internet just as are the current generation of software developers. The intent of Setup Guide was to lead me toward using the internet to locate a page where instructions about using the new ACER machine were supposedly located. I never got that far since the new machine seemed to be unfamiliar with my in-house WiFi system[WT1]  thus voiding an opportunity to sign on to the internet.

I knew I was in trouble from the start when the machine asked for my WiFi user ID and password in order to log-in. After I finally figured out what was wanted, I left my home office and looked for old files labeled “computer.” You can translate that to mean that I asked my wife to help find those miscellaneous scraps of paper I created with passwords scratched on them. She found several records, and I tried each but nothing worked so I finally went to bed, ready to give up to the Gods of the internet. Some days later I stumbled on the correct password info and the machine jumped to life, offering 20 or 30 different screens as entry points for further information. Now I was finally getting somewhere. The most annoying of the screens was an advertisement for Windows 11, proving that my new machine would be instantly out-of-date with its now-antiquated Windows 10.

One of my first successes with the new computer was with the mail. After I clicked open the mail program I was rewarded with 838 emails that had accumulated from the period when I had put away my old machine and purchased the new machine. I was now back in familiar territory, dealing with the annoyance of unsolicited advertising, impossible loads of mail and deadlines that retired men shouldn’t have to face. As I closed out the most annoying of the pages, I realized that learning how to use the new machine would be just a matter of time, with me hunched over the machine, trying to come to grips with the latest technology. It will be a long ride. Stay tuned. I will, no doubt, have much to complain about shortly as is normal practice for me and my computing.

 

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 [WT1] 

Camping in the North Woods

 

Camping (again)

 

This blog is about a recent camping trip and the foibles that occurred despite best intentions and careful planning that began in early spring. Since the pandemic seemed to be coming to an end just as the camping season began, the Missus scheduled an extended camping trip of 10 days with four destinations to welcome the warmer weather. The trip didn’t work out exactly as planned.

But first, a bit of background. Some of you may know that I have a long history of camping beginning while a youngster in Indiana. Since I grew up in the dark ages when parents only worried about children if they had broken something important, like a lamp, or an essential bone, I was allowed to camp with friends at an early age. I remember Snake Island along the Wabash River, and an unfamiliar pasture field owned by the brother-in-law of a neighbor who had boys the same age as my brother and me. Each of these trips provide an example of camping miscalculations since both had an unfortunate happening: The pasture field camping experience erupted in a knock-down, drag-out fight between my brother and me while the river campout caused totally unexpected explosions when we piled river rocks around the campfire and the moisture hidden within expanded, causing the rocks to break and upset our cooking gear just as dinner was being prepared.

The pasture-field fight had a similar outcome. At the beginning it was a minor happening since my brother and I engaged in disagreements most days and fisticuffs were needed to settle matters. Unfortunately, this fight began in the tent that we knocked down during the preliminary wrestling match. Of course, the fight provoked us into rolling around the ground with no thought about our food supplies that featured mostly bread, peanut butter, a can or two of baked beans, and a large bag of potato chips that turned into potato crumbs. In the end we learned that flattened bread worked passably well for peanut-butter sandwiches and potato crumbs were just as nutritious as the undamaged kind. The trip ended well as I recall, and we weren’t attacked by any of the farmer’s cows.

Those distant memories had little bearing on this most recent trip, although sharp-eyed readers may find some parallels since I am the major character in each of the trips recounted and it seems that I have a frequent run of bad luck during campouts that I engage in. This latest trip provoked an outcome that had little to do with my mistakes, but you may wish to judge that for yourself after I recite the details, assuming that you are still awake.

Part of the reason for our latest camping trip was the chance to entertain and enjoy the company of our granddaughters, aged 14 and 16. The trip required some advanced planning since Michigan campgrounds have become extremely popular what with the pandemic limiting other forms of entertainment. Since our granddaughters would be with us, we scheduled visits to campgrounds where swimming was featured, and bicycle trails were abundant.

The first problem to strike was the intervention of life. One girl was scratched from our guest list when she was offered a sought-after job that required her orientation just as our trip was about to begin. The second girl had a sudden medical problem – her ankle was injured during a soccer match and the doctor’s office scheduled a needed examination also at the scheduled trip. There was no cure for either absence. The Missus and I decided to entertain ourselves without the granddaughters by camping in our 5^th wheel immediately following a weekend square dance that was held at a mid-Michigan campground. Other than a sore ankle, the dancing was a hoot after a pandemic-induced year-long absence. Surprisingly, we remembered most of the steps and enjoyed the company of other dancers, including a couple who accompanied us to Bay City, Michigan where we had the next set of reservations for camping. Bay City State Park features both swimming and bicycling along with superb viewing of their natural areas that are dominated by the Tobico Marsh, a wetland that provides a haven for birds of all sizes, colors, and descriptions as they feast on the fish and insects drawn by the wetlands. (Let me know if you want to see any of the several hundred pictures that the Missus captured).

I may have overdone the bicycling part on the first day. After the ride, I waded in the cool water of the Saginaw Bay (named after the long-ago Sauk Indians who reigned over the area), assuming that the cool water would offer palliative care for an overtaxed ankle. It didn’t. Maybe that was because on the following day we went for a longer bicycle ride on the area’s rails to trails path that extends from the park to the city. It was a nice ride through native areas alive with colorful wild flowers and I enjoyed it so much that I felt obliged to call a Bay City official concerning overflowing garbage bins at a pocket park along the trail that provoked a sharp contrast to the beauty of wild areas. He promised to fix the problem.

From Bay City we went to our next camping reservation at Tawas Point, the place where the land has grown to form a long isthmus into the bay from the winds and countless waves. Although this natural process has continued, in recent years the Tawas Point shoreline has been buffeted by the increasing water levels associated with climate change and the melting of sea ice. The park was full of campers and we enjoyed the park’s natural areas. Watching our fellow campers with their families and many dogs reminded us that camping is a family affair. The changes to the beaches and the rip-rap placed along the shore to stem further damage seemed to have no effect on the park’s popularity.

Tawas City and East Tawas have made a giant step forward in sponsoring a new bike trail that has been highly acclaimed by enthusiasts since it is part of the Iron Belle trail that will ultimately run from Detroit’s Belle Isle to the Upper Peninsula’s Iron Mountain, becoming the longest bicycle trail in the nation when it is completed. Of course, we had to test our endurance by a ride on the trail. That evening I had to try the lake wading process again in hopes of reducing the size of the now oversized ankle that was again swollen and warm to the touch. We left the Tawas Point Park after a short, two-day stay.

I am typing this blog at our last campground, Pontiac Lake State Recreation Area, while awaiting a visit from our granddaughter(s). I hopeful that we’ll all be too busy visiting to ride our bikes so that my ankle can recover a bit and I can hide my now-limited biking endurance. Granddaughters don’t need to know everything about their grandparents.