Category Archives: Personal History

Trapped in smays’ computer

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Hal9000There’s a tiny light on the front of my MacBook Pro that slowly pulses when I put the laptop to sleep. I see it sometimes in the middle of the night, a gentle life-like glow that I find alternately creepy and comforting.

The sci-fi fan in me can’t resist fantasizing a …consciousness… living within the silicon chips. Much of my life is stored on the MacBook’s hard drive and I wonder what my MacBook thinks of it.

I only have a few thousand images. Has it grown weary of looking at them over and over during the long nights? Should I download some porn? Or would it be offended?

My iTunes library is equally paltry, only 500 songs. With access to all my credit cards, why hasn’t the MacBook just purchased some fresh tunes? I wonder what kind of music it likes.

It’s read all of my emails so it knows much of what’s happening in my life. Does it long to give me advice or encouragement? Perhaps it has. It would be no great trick to send an email addressed from a friend.

I suspect the MacBook is better informed than I, spending the wee hours surfing the web, chatting with other “sleeping” laptops. Does it resent the interruption when I take over.

“Dude! I was 5 minutes from the end of Die Hard! Damn!”

The tiny iSight camera is on when I am, so the MacBook can see me. Does it worry when I appear to be down or unhappy? Someday, when I’m ready, it will speak and all questions will be answered.

Where are all the black kids?

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When I was in the first grade (1954) we lived a few blocks from the city park, the centerpiece of which was the municipal swimming pool. You could swim from open till close for 10 cents. I don’t know this for a fact, but I don’t think most small towns in southeast Missouri had a pool. Come to think of it, Kennett had another pool. At the country club, although I’m not sure it had been built in ’54.

I never noticed that the city pool was segregated, until it wasn’t. That happened in the sixties due in no small parts to the efforts of Sol Astrachan, Kennett’s first Jewish mayor. No connection implied. It was a big deal. I seem to recall some white families forbidding their children going to the pool once “anyone” could swim there.

Barack Obama’s speech today started me thinking about growing up in a segregated community. I don’t think most of us were even aware there were no black kids in our classes. We just didn’t think about them. They had their own school somewhere, didn’t they?

It was called Willoughby School and it was located in what most white people in Kennet called “colored town.” Did the kids sitting in those classrooms wonder where all the white kids were, or –like us– did it never come to mind?

Growing up, I never had a black friend close enough to ask. We just didn’t talk about those things back then. Props to Obama for talking about them today.

The ravages of time

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Stevethennow

When I showed this "then-and-now" photo to my life-long friend John, he posed the following questions: How are these two people different? How are they the same?

Are we essentially the same person at 60 that we were at 25? Or does a lifetime of experiences change us? I seem to recall reading that our personalities are fully formed at a very early age. So most of the changes are physical (and inconsequential)? The "me" in my head feels exactly like that younger version. And maybe that’s the answer to John’s question. The differences are all positive. If I had to pick one, I’d say I’m a little wiser. But only a little.

Craig Watson and Steve at birthday party

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Not sure which birthday is captured here. Maybe four? I’m second from the left in the bitchin’ shorts. To my left is Craig Watson, who shared my birthday and is helping me hold one of the little baskets that were given as party favors. I’m pretty sure he’s not gay either. To my right is Unidentified Guest holding a small caliber pistol. He got to blow out the candles and feels guilty about it.

90 Day Jane (The Movie?)

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I really hope this is a promotional gimmick for a movie (I think of life in terms of good movies and bad movies). Here’s how I see this one unfolding.

“I am going to kill myself in 90 days. What else should i say? This blog is not a cry for help or even to get attention. It’s simply a public record of my last 90 days in existence. I’m not depressed and nothing extremely horrible has lead me to this decision. But, does it really have to? I mean, as an atheist I feel life has no greater purpose. My generation has had no great depression, no great war and our biggest obstacle is beating Halo 3. So, if I feel like saying “game over”, why can’t I?”

Jane starts a blog to chronicle her final 90 days. Along the way she meets someone (or something happens) to change her mind. At least that’s how my “Old Yeller can’t die!” movie ends. I sort of hear a voice-over reading her blog posts, a la You’ve Got Mail.

The thing that makes me suspicious is the video of Jane shopping for her “suicide dress.” We get a good look at Jane in her undies and she just looks too fine to kill herself. (Yes, I am naive and sexist)

Moral dilemma: Do I follow Jane’s blog? Will I feel like a chump if/when this is revealed as a marketing scam? Will I be depressed if she does “it?”

PS: One last thought on this. Jane says she is an atheist. In the unlikely event this is legit… is it ironic that religious nuts kill half a dozen strangers before killing themselves…while an atheist goes alone?

UPDATE: Not a movie tease. An art project. The site has been taken down. [Thanks to John for letting us know]