Living Behind The Curve
by Lee H. Goldberg
Although he's been gone for nearly seven years now, I often think about my eccentric (and greatly beloved) Great Uncle Martin and all the things he taught me about life and technology. As an inventor, early aviator (circa 1920s) and trade school teacher, he had a unique perspective on life as well as a surprisingly conservative approach to deciding what technologies he depended on in his daily affairs. It's not that Martin was a technophobe: far from it, he reveled in the intricacies of every gadget that passed his way. It's just that he didn't give up his old tools unless the new ones were demonstrably better than the old ones. This meant that he used drafting tools and machinists' instruments that dated back to his high school years, and tended to drive the same car for decades at a time. On the other hand he was the first person I knew to buy a front-wheel drive car back in the 60s (a Renault 16).
Lately, I've realized that I've adopted Martin's cautious attitude towards adopting new technologies. I find technology fascinating, but I find that most new shiny gadgets are usually more trouble than they're worth and mostly end up gathering dust in my closet. To keep the clutter down, I try to only buy stuff I cannot live without. Besides, living at the back end of the adoption curve means that the gear you do buy costs less, has been debugged by a generation or two of unofficial beta testing, and (if you choose wisely) your machine has probably acquired a loyal following of users who can help you avoid all the problems they have already encountered.
As one example, I finally got a Palm Pilot two years ago only after I realized that I was storing all my appointments and contacts on the computer and no longer using my trusty leather Daytimer book. And even then, I bought a near-obsolete PalmVx because it is has a reputation as a great unit and does exactly what I want it to without the cost and steep learning curve of a more complex PocketPC machine.
In another expression of my "inner Luddite" I stripped WinXP off my new laptop to instal Win2000. Unlike its "improved" successor, I've found Win2000 to be stable, spyware-free, and not structured to force its users into costly programmed upgrades.
On the other hand, I made the transition to digital photography over five years ago and have never looked back. While I still use a film camera for the times I need higher resolution than my mid-range digital camera affords me, I'm shooting most ordinary family events, travel memories, and even some of my "creative" work on memory chips because of the speed and ease with which I can edit, manage, and share them on my computer. And I find that, much to the delight of her grandparents, my daughter is getting much more heavily photographed than she ever did when I had to take a trip to the Drugstore and shell out $12 for every roll of film I shot.
I suppose that some of my resistance to change is simply because I'm now approaching fifty and the world seems to be speeding up around me to a frothy blur. Nevertheless, I'd like to think that at least some of this apparent inflexibility is simply exercising the hard-won common sense I've acquired over the years. Take, for instance, cell phones. Call me a cranky old fart, but I think of my handset as a communication tool and not a fashion statement or a toy. In the five years I've been wireless, I've had precisely two phones and have resisted the seductive offers that Cingular has made to pry me away from the semi-antique TDMA/AMPS handset I now own. This is because I've found that the only thing that truly guarantees me a connection wherever I am is the old-fashioned AMPS (analog) mode that is no longer available in the new micro-sized sissified, game-encrusted units on the market today.
While my phone drains its batteries like a thirsty electronic vampire while in analog mode, I at least have a connection when and where I want it: something that's come in awfully handy more than once. A great example of this is the friend who called me today from a train running up the Oregon coast. He said that he was traveling through some pretty remote terrain but his phone was almost always able to find a connection in the fallback analog/AMPS mode. It will be a while before you can do the same thing with an all-digital handset on most networks.
I suppose if I did not travel outside urban areas, I might find the Swiss cheese-like footprints of the carriers' highly-touted "all digital GSM networks" acceptable, but my regular trips to the Sierra foothills, the Maine coast, and other less-populated portions of the country will keep me tied to my AMPS-capable phone for at least another year or two.
I'll eventually upgrade my phone when the CDMA and GSM networks finally begin to cover the country a bit more completely (some time before the next ice age) and I guess I'll be tempted by one of those all-in-one phones like the Palm Treo that include an integrated organizer and a web browser. But I'm not so sure I need the instant messaging or the web camera. Between the low resolution images the camera-phones produce, and the larcenous rates the carriers charge you to send them to your friends, it's cheaper to use a film camera and wait a day to pick up much better quality prints at the drugstore. As far as the instant messaging goes, I wish somebody would explain to me why should I subject my thumbs to repetitive stress syndrome as I answer a flood of intrusive IM interruptions that I refuse to deal with when I'm at my desk?
From my perspective, technology should either amplify our abilities, provide us with entertainment, or simplify our lives. When a newfangled gadget does none of the above, I'll follow my Uncle Martin's advice and enjoy life at the back end of the adoption curve.
Comments? Questions? Tales of vintage technologies? Write me at: lgoldberg@green-electronics.com