Just recently I encountered a Boomer pal who I haven’t seen in decades. We hugged and were both genuinely happy to see each other. Years and years ago, we went through grade school together, became best friends by our late teen years, and in our 20s and 30s we were partying and hanging out. We toasted at each other’s wedding, and our children were playmates, until eventually our life’s passages caused us to lose touch. Then, one day she and I bumped into each other on the street and began cheerfully reminiscing and catching up on old times.
Just before we parted from our brief reunion I pulled a slip of paper from my purse and said to her, “Let’s stay in touch this time. Give me your email address.” She replied, “I don’t have an email address.” And then added, “I don’t even have a computer, don’t know how to use one.”
I imagine that my surprised, lip-dropping, wide-eyed expression made me look like a hippie caught by police with a blunt in her mouth. I naïvely believed that all my Boomer buddies from bygone days were as ambitious as I was about keeping pace with things, so her admission that she was computer-challenged caught me off guard. Dumbfounded, the only thing I could think to say was “Oh.”
If we had more time I would have enjoyed telling her about the things she was missing, like the wonders of Web surfing. How she could handle her banking business and pay bills on line; apply for a job or social security, renew a driver’s license, make or cancel a doctor’s appointment and perform just about any task that previously required phone calls or physically traveling outside the home. How she could shop for groceries, books, clothing, furniture, practically buy or sell anything on line — like all of her ex’s stuff.
In fairness, I would also have cautioned her about some of the potential drawbacks of owning a home computer. Foremost, be wary of hackers and viruses; having your home computer conk out when you need it most can be a worse downer than learning that your favorite soap opera is being canceled. Furthermore, if you don’t have a close relative or friend willing to rapidly service your PC, thereby eliminating lengthy downtime and costly repairs, you might have an attack of PC withdrawal pains, which is a lot worse than a bout with arthritis.
But instead of me babbling like a computer junky, she and I exchanged phone numbers, ho-hum, and went our separate ways. And here I am still wondering what happened to her between then and now? We belong to the defiant, try-anything-once Baby Boomer generation of hippies, yippies and radicals. We have a reputation to uphold. Back in the day, I would have yelled after her, “Learn to use a computer. Tune in, turn on, get with it! And get an email account.” Instead I walk away humming My Generation by The Who, “I’m not trying to cause a big sensation. I’m just talking ‘bout my generation.”