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Wit and Wisdomby Beth BroderickClank, rattle, bang, hum. Uh-oh.There were signs, of course. It had been clear for a good while that the machine which has served me dutifully since 2011 was losing the will to live. The mechanics of the thing had begun to lag, causing a maddening delay between my typing of a letter and its actual appearance on the page. It became easily confused and struggled to keep up with my various needs. It could not stay awake for longer than two minutes if it was not connected to a power source. In all fairness, the computer is not the only thing getting old around here. In my dotage I often forgot to plug it in and so disappeared in the middle of several important Zoom calls. It just conked out, causing me to frantically re-engage by phone, returning to the meeting frazzled and apologetic. Thankfully I am up front about my meager abilities in the arena of all things technical, and these unforced errors were accepted with grace by my colleagues.It was painfully clear that my darling device and I were approaching the last of our time together, that we would soon have to part.I put off the inevitable. There was the expense, of course, and the dreaded trip to the Apple store where people decades younger than myself would offer to assist and, in doing so, become very quickly apprised of my incompetence. There would be a cock of the head, a raise of the eyebrow, a smile which said, “Oh dear. You are one of those” when I explained that I had never been able to figure out the back-up machine thingy and would need a hand transferring my (to me) precious data. Also, I was truly attached to it. We have been writing together for years, taking breaks to search for goods on “Chewy” and “Amazon” and “Ortho-foot” We knew each other’s quirks and customs.I petted it, offered encouragement, and deleted as many files as I could to try to reduce the burden on the slender laptop. I became fanatical about plugging it in and learned to accept the starts and stops, the hiccups, and the general lackluster performance it offered. We were scraping by, getting along, and then one day it all changed. The dear thing struggled to awaken after an afternoon nap. I would carefully connect it, only to have it insist, against all evidence to the contrary, “You are not connected to the Internet.” It would complain and stubbornly refuse to acknowledge its errors. Then the racket began.SURVIVING THE ICE AGE.Clank. Rattle. Bang. Hum. It sounded like one of those ice machines that lives under the stairwell in an old motel. I dearly love an ice machine, have made many a trip down the hallway or around the back or wherever one is located. The plastic liner, dutifully if clumsily installed into the bucket, provided to gather the precious cubes as they rat-atat-tatted down into view. I have spent days, weeks, and months traveling for work, and ice is a big part of how I adapt to my new surroundings. At night it can be used to chill wine or sparkling water or a brick of good cheese. In the early mornings it is often required for filming—a washcloth can be soaked in the icy water that’s left. This can then be applied to the forehead and eyes in hopes of soothing and contracting the heavy lids and under-eye bags that I don’t want the cameras to see. Those machines are always a welcome sight. I love the click, rattle, bang, and all, just not when it is coming from my computer.It was time for hospice, time to get serious about winding the old girl down and heading out for a newer model. I could not find the time before leaving for Cancun on a modeling job. It was impossible, so I dragged her to Mexico, planning to use her only in an emergency. I am totally dependent on my computer, and I could not think of leaving her behind. I was also terrified that she would give up and go to her grave taking all of my writings and passwords and saved bank codes with her. Dammit, why had I not tried harder to figure out that external hard drive business?I hesitated for a long time before entering the computer age. I clung hard to my old ways. I loved writing full story lines out on crisp white paper with my cherished rollerball pens. I was certain that embracing the new technology would have a bad effect on my creativity; could dull the edges of my thoughts. Ridiculous, of course, but that’s how I felt. I had come of age when telephones were still attached to the wall. When there were “answering services” wherein messages were retrieved by live humans who were on call to respond to our telephones. I had to call in and talk to one of those folks to find out who had called to talk to me.When I began my career, my agents would send me scripts, printed out on real paper and delivered by messenger. Paperwork like taxes was done by hand and sent in by mail. There was no such thing as an “e-bill.” Bills were sent by snail mail and returned in envelopes which contained handwritten checks. Anyone under 40 reading this will think I speak of a Stone Age, but to my mind, it was not long ago. Not long at all.Now all of these things can be accomplished with the press of a few buttons, the stroke of a couple of keys. It is a miraculous invention, the computer. It influences every aspect of our lives. Our cars are computers, our phones are computers. We have “smart homes” where the lights and locks are controlled by remote machines. We have no choice but to embrace them, no option but to dive into the technologies that now support our very existence.I am in. I am not all that good at it, but I am in, if a tad reluctantly. I am not entirely convinced that all of this is a positive. We have gained so much in terms of ease and immediacy, but we have lost things, too. The speed at which we now process information is rapacious. I sometimes think we know too much of the world outside ourselves and not enough of the one around us. Every waking moment (and some of the sleeping ones) of our lives is informed by the fact that we are wired in. We are all expected to be reachable at all times, no matter our location, no difference the hour.Now, when I travel, I meet mostly the tops of people’s heads as they glue their eyes to their phones. We used to exchange greetings, engage in conversation, but no more. Even in the glory and green of nature, most of the folks I encounter on my hikes are plugged in to some kind of machine. The beauty of birdsong is lost on them; the sound of wind rustling, of leaves crunching underfoot, or the scurry of a small animal never heard. And yet …I have just typed those sentiments on a brand-new computer that is a joy to behold. It is sleek and black and matches the ebony paint of my wooded desk. My old one was filthy and banged up, but this new machine is pristine, the screen larger and clearer, the mechanics whiz-bang. The girl who helped me with the sale and transition spent three full hours of her day at work trying to make sure that I could transfer all of my data successfully. There was so much of it that what was begun in the store would take another 4 hours to finish at home, but she made certain I was set up to have a great outcome.All of it was handled with ease, and I was giddy with excitement when I brought my new treasures home. She also sold me a new watch and set that up, too. This required me to download a new operating system on my old phone, which is very old and will soon need to be retired. The young saleswoman told me all about the marvel of the new iPhone 17, and it sounds like a humdinger. The need for a new one looms, but I am not ready. I have had a great good helping of New and may need to cling to some Old for a while yet. I am fond of my giant iPhone 10+ and, ya know, it still rings, still calls my sisters, and registers my texts. I will get the 17 someday, someday soon, or at least soon-ish. Gotta keep up with the times, right? And that new camera, come on now! I am going to get to the getting of that. Any day now, the getting will be gotten. I swear.Happy, Happy Thanksgiving to you all. I am truly thankful for your readership and support. Your appreciation and encouragement have given me a new direction in life and I am profoundly grateful.On we go …We extend our heartfelt gratitude to our valued subscribers whose support makes the publication of Wit and Wisdom possible. Thank you! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bethbroderick.substack.com/subscribe