About nine years ago, I reunited with my two best girl pals whom I had not seen since high school. We enjoyed our reunion and spent time updating each other on current activities, retirement plans, our Generation X children, and grandchildren. As my friends and I were preparing to depart, I suggested that we exchange email addresses, and was surprised to learn that neither of them had an email address. “I don’t even own a computer,” one of them said. Then the other added, “Neither do I. I don’t have time to bother with that nonsense.” Nonsense? I thought. Um, is she smoking that stuff or just computerphobic?
I am a computer junkie and wanna-be techno geek. I admit it. I like everything about computers, even the daunting challenge of learning new software programs, which sometimes discourages, but does not deter me. And although I understand why some boomers feel intimidated by the machines, I also believe that the refusal to venture outside our comfort zone engenders missed opportunities.
My PC is like an extension of myself, so much so that when it isn’t working properly or — God forbid — it has a virus, I feel ill. A couple of years ago, I discovered that my computer was infected with a Trojan virus, and I became so distraught that by the time my son cleaned the bug off of my PC, I was one megabyte from melt down. I know that I am not alone. There are millions of you out there who feel as I do. Some people consider their vehicle as their first love, for other’s it is their pet. My computer is my baby, and the lyrics of one of my favorite Sam and Dave oldies says it all, “When something is wrong with my baby, something is wrong with me.”