Time to retire the computer

Tuesday, October 15, 2002
Renae Bottom

My computer is tired. It thinks a long time before finishing a task. Things it once did with ease now take a good while to process.

That's understandable. After all, in "computer years," ours is getting up there. It has more to consider than it did six years ago, when we first brought it home.

There are new programs to handle, new imaging systems to manage, new viruses to fight. It's a worthy word processor, but those other concerns are taking their toll.

I remember the day we took it out of the box. First we labored for hours to assemble the computer desk. (I wisely left the room and allowed my husband his space.) Then we gently removed the plastic wrap from each high-tech component and plugged it all in.

We were awestruck. The computer played music. Full-color graphics danced across the screen. Everything moved at light speed. We were part of the information age.

Before long, the computer was calling us by name. It stored all our files, quickly and efficiently. It never forgot a thing. It played Solitaire faster than our old computer ever did, and it cruised the Internet like a champ.

We used our new computer every day. It took care of homework assignments, from school book reports to college term papers. It calculated spread sheets and collected recipes. It even painted pictures and played video clips.

But things move quickly in cyberspace. Before a year or two had passed, we were aware of things our computer couldn't do. Upgrades helped, but they didn't solve all our compatibility problems.

We had the opportunity to use other, faster computers, at work and at school. We tried to be loyal, but we had to admit that it was nice getting results in two seconds, instead of waiting twenty seconds for each response.

Now, in the world of Web-based universities and Flash sites, our humble home computer functions like a quaint replica of its former self, a Model-T sharing the highway with Corvettes and Camaros.

We get passed a lot. When I'm working on the computer at home, I wave folks around me while I putt along, waiting for the grinding and processing to end.

I hate to admit it, but it's time we put the old girl out to pasture. She's done her work well, but her memory is overtaxed. The problem is, I feel a little disloyal when I think of replacing her, after all her years of devoted service.

This computer has stayed up late at night, patiently enduring one revision after another on countless articles and research papers. She's survived a cup of iced tea, spilled into her keyboard.

She's been moved, restarted, yelled at, dusted, and hooked to three different printers. She's played more games of hearts and chess than I can remember. And she's continued adding correct sums, right up to the end.

We'll probably set this computer up in another spot when we replace it, to phase in a more dignified retirement. It would make a handy word processing station, or a place to play games when the other computer is busy. That seems fitting.

I suppose it's silly, in this age of disposable technology, to feel nostalgic about a computer. But I can relate to a growing sense of ineffectiveness, associated with age. And I don't feel compatible with every new change that comes down the pike, either.

So I'll be a little reluctant to unplug this computer for the last time. Poor old girl, I think I know how she feels.

Respond to this story

Posting a comment requires free registration: