Older Than Dirt

As I get older, I find it harder and harder to buy Christmas presents. I either buy the wrong size or get the wrong color or something. So, I was excited when I saw the ad on TV for the Broadway Musical “Wicked.” We used to go to the opera when we lived in Alaska. The theater had a screen above the stage with written translations, so I could follow the story. We had season tickets to the Spokane Symphony for several years before COVID shut them down. I have gotten old enough to be uncomfortable driving after dark, so we get a room at the Davenport and make a full evening of it, then drive home the next morning.

With that in mind, I dusted off my trusty computer and ordered tickets on-line. After I paid for them via my credit card, I got a message telling me I would receive electronic tickets. I had no idea what that meant, so I called the help line number provided in the upper right-hand corner of my screen. The nice young man with a middle eastern accent told me the tickets would be forwarded to my mobile device. I responded I didn’t own a mobile device and requested he e-mail the tickets to me, and I would print them then present them at the door to the theater. He said he could e-mail them, but I wouldn’t be admitted with a paper copy of the e-mail. I was beginning to get upset and demanded my money back. The nice young man told me he couldn’t do that, but I could forward the e-mail to someone younger who owned a mobile device. He then hung up before I could think of a snappy response. My wife keeps up with the new technology much better than I do, so I forwarded the e-mail to her. So much for the surprise Christmas present. The forwarded e-mail seemed to work. We will find out when we get to the theater.

The entire goat rope only proved one thing. I am a certified fossil. I began to realize I was getting old when the museum asked If they could display my Air Force uniform. I remember visiting museums with old uniforms from some of the wars in the early history of our country, but I never thought mine would be old enough to be a museum exhibit. I can no longer wear my uniform. Even the socks are too small. Maybe I could get a chair and sit in front of my uniform and be an interacting relic. Little kids would love talking to a real live dinosaur.

I am not completely ignorant of computers. It is just that the technology has changed, and I haven’t. Would you believe I was actually once a programmer while in the Air Force? The computer I used for the nuclear war plan was about the size of an average basketball court and had about the same data storage and processing power as a modern Fitbit.

I keep an I-pad next to my recliner so I can look up things I see on TV but don’t understand. I look up sports stats and celebrity biographies and other interesting trivia, but the battery died and wouldn’t take a charge. I immediately went to the local computer store to get a new battery and was informed my old machine was obsolete and parts no longer were available. Several hundred dollars lighter, enlightened by a 30-minute tutorial, I went home with a new I-pad. It took four return trips to the store before I figured out how to turn the damned thing on. Both the owner’s manual and operating instructions were printed in five languages, none of which were understandable. It took two more trips back to the store before I was able to send an e-mail or google or look up something with Wikipedia. The computer store representative officially certified me a fossil.

I don’t feel older than dirt. I feel the same as I always have. I don’t believe I have changed, but I am starting to realize that the world has changed around me. Dinosaurs no long walk the earth.

Frank Watson is retired Air Force Colonel and long-time resident of Eastern Washington. He has been a free-lance columnist for over 20 years.