Road Trip

It seemed like such a good idea. Or so I thought when The Nephew mentioned he had an old television he thought Grandpa would like. Dad's television bought the farm several months ago. This sounded like a perfect idea. Until last Sunday.

The Brother called late in the afternoon. "We brought the television, but can't find the converter box. The Weebles said Himself took it. I asked where the cables were. They said Himself took it. So I'm calling Himself to find out where these things are."

"Himself didn't take anything."

"Then where the hell did they put them?"

Himself and I both laughed. Himself suggested The Brother look in the basement just at the bottom of the stairs. Dad has a table, and he piles junk on it. If not there, then up in the attic on top of Ma's hope chest.

A short time later, Dad called. He was very excited with the visit and the television. He would finally be able to watch 60 Minutes and the news.

After Dad hung up, The Brother called to tell me he had hooked everything. I jokingly told him, I'd have Dad call him when Dad couldn't remember how to turn the TV on, or which remote to use. (There's a remote for the television that needs to be set to channel 03, and the remote for the digital converter box which is used to change the channels. The Weebles don't have cable television.)

Dad called later. Dad was having trouble figuring out how to turn the tv on, and how to change the channels. I told him, Himself would stop by Monday afternoon.

 And here is thee-mail exchange I had with The Brother at the beginning of the week:

Monday

Me:  Hey!

  Himself is taking a tv service call for you. Dad called to say he can't change the channel. I told him about the arrow buttons on the digital box, but he claims 1. the buttons aren't there and 2. no one showed him. I'm surprised he didn't tell me 3.Himself took them. I'm sure after Himself leaves there'll be another call on how to change the channels. Btw, he's very happy you and Your Young One stopped by. He loves watching the news and said the picture is terrific. Points to you for making an old man happy

The Brother: 

Nice

1. I don't make house calls (there was an emoticon of a little black sheep which cracked me up)

2. We showed him what to do and made him practice, he passed before we left and found the buttons while we were there

3 You better blog this "he can't see the buttons because his glasses are wired up and the bifocals don't sit straight  (there was an emoticon of a goofy guy with glasses)

Tuesday:

Me:

Hey!


  I'm sorry you gave Dad the tv. He's called 4 times today because he doesn't know how to turn the tv on.(crazy eyes) They already lost the channel changer. Himself was there yesterday. One of them unplugged the television. Though I'm surprised they didn't tell Himself you did it. (winky)
  oh well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions (devil emoticon)
  e're taking bets as to when the next phone call will be. Time slots still open if you want to place a bet.

The Brother:

The say you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

guess it's right.

My guess is MA unplugged the set out of spite although we showed both how the set worked.

I guess for them watching tv is a curse for you and me.

Her comments was why they were getting my junk, any way if it keeps up I can go pick up the set and bring it to my office.

So Himself has had to stop at the Weebles every day after school last week. There was a hunt to find the channel changers, plug the television back in, and to go over all the buttons, how to turn things on and off and how to change channels. Himself even wrote directions put everything in a folder by the television.

Saturday, Dad called all frustrated. He couldn't remember how to turn the set on.

"I need Himself to show me and to write down what I need to do. 

"Himself did."

"No, he didn't."

"Yes, he did. He put the instructions in a folder with the channel changers."

"Where did he put the folder?"

"By the television."

Dad went on to whine how frustrated the new fangled gadgets make him feel. (Make him feel!) 

Like they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. 

D-TV Day

Today is the day that television stations must stop broadcasting an analog signal and broadcast a digital. A few months ago, Himself hooked up a digital converter box for the Weebles. There were several panic calls about blue screens and several lessons on using both remote controls, one for the television and the other for the converter box. Phone calls stopped and we thought all was well and found that Dad had brought another portable television from the attic to the living room.

The other day, I reminded Dad the spare TV would no longer work on 12. June. I turned to the television with the converter box to see if it would work.

"Where are the remotes?"

He handed me the remote to the television.

"Where's the remote for the converter box?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

I pushed the power button on the television remote. The screen came to life in a blaze of static and looked like the VHS player was on. I set the remote to chanel 03 and a nice clear picture came through.

"You have to keep the television remote set to channel 3."

"But I want to watch channel 4"

"Right. Keep this," and I waved the remote, "on channel 3. You can change the channel you want by using the up and down arrows on the converter box." I pushed the arrows and the television screen flickered through a few channels."

"Just put it on channel 4. That's all I watch."

I set the channel on the converter to channel 4 and turned the power off on the television remote. Himself had told Dad not to turn the power off on the converter box and the power light was happily gleaming a bright cobalt blue.

So, Dad's ready for the digital television transition, well his television is. I wonder how many hours will pass before we get the dreaded "the screen is blue" call.

Any bets?

D-TV, Are You Ready?

With television broadcasts switching from an analog format to digital, the Weebles would be severely impacted. No sound, no picture, only static. They won't give me my 60 Minutes.

The easiest solution would have been to hook the Weebles up to cable. The house is already wired for FIOS with the computer traveling at the blazing speed of a giant paper weight for the use it gets. Would the Weebles watch 1,000 channels? Probably not. Dad would be happy to have his news and 60 Minutes. Not a bad thing either since I couldn't afford to pick up the tab on cable television for him. The converter box would make a nice Christmas gift.

At the beginning of December, with the looming countdown of D-Day, the day television stations would begin broadcasting a digital signal, I went online to find the coupon the government was issuing to help defer the cost of a converter box. What a surprise to find no coupon to download and print, but a sign up list to receive a coupon via snail mail. And the coupon would take 3 weeks to arrive! No worries. I signed up to get a coupon (only 2 issued per household) and sat back to wait.

The day after Christmas, the coupon arrived in the mail. I had heard we were one of the lucky ones as shortly after I signed up, the government ran out of money for the coupon program. Course if they hadn't spent a small fortune on running the countdown ads, they might have had sufficient money to fund the coupons program.

With coupon in hand, Himself went to purchase the converter, bring it to the Weebles, hook it up, and to show Dad what to do.

Then the calls.

"The screen is blue."

I happily passed the monkey to Himself. There were more lessons. More calls. More patient explanations that there were two remote controls. One to turn the television on and change the channels and the other to run the converter box. More calls, the remote went missing. Found it.

No more blue screen calls. We thought things were finally running smoothly until I stopped at the Weebles to take them to the Mahket.

There were two small black and white televisions in the living room.

"Why do you have two televisions down here?"

"Oh," said Dad. "See? The plug for the thing came out of the wall." He showed me the dangling converter box plug.

"And SHE knocked the thing over."

I could see the converter box hanging by some wires behind the television. I happily passed the message along to Himself. Since television stations are still broadcasting an analog signal, Dad brought an old black and white television that was languishing in the attic down to the livingroom. He could get his news and see 60 Minutes and wouldn't fiddle with the converter box wires.

I found Himself mumbling and making a list.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Making a list of things I need to fix Dad's converter box. Double stick tape so they can't keep knocking it off the top of the television."

"Babies R Us?"

"Yeah, I need one of those boxes that cover a cord and wall outlet so they can't yank the plug out of the wall."

February 17, 2009 was the original date for digital broadcasting. The date has been extended until sometime in June. No matter. Dad's ready for the digital revolution. Well, his television is.

The Test

We've been hemming and hawing about getting The Happy Wanderer a cellphone for emergencies. Emergencies such as Ma locking Dad out of the house. Ma is afraid of being alone in the house. She's convinced that men are going to break in. It's an old hold over fear from the time some twenty years ago when the Weebles home was broken into when the Weebles had gone to church. The house is now armed with deadbolts and medieval gate locks. You know a giant piece of timber held in place by iron brackets. When Dad goes out, Ma goes into lockdown with a speed that would astonish Iron Mountain. Screen doors are locked. Dead bolts are slid home. And because she's as deaf as a fence post, she doesn't always hear him ringing the doorbell like Quosimodo ringing the church bells or pounding on the door like Fred Flintstone. Wilmaaa! WilMAAAA!

Trouble is technology and weebles don't always go hand in hand. I field enough phone calls because "they don't give him his email" or how to print, without taking on how to work the cellphone.

Himself and I had talked about getting Dad the Jitterbug phone. Large buttons and one model has to have calls put through by an operator. It sounded like a perfect solution. The downside is the phone is expensive and then there is the cost of the monthly plan.

We were watching television the other night when an ad came on about Safe Link Wireless, a free cell phone program in our state if you received food stamps or receive a social security check. Our ears perked up. Free is good. I went online to check it out. Looked good. The phone is a Tracfone. You've seen them. You can buy airtime cards at places like Target or Walmart. Himself and the girls each have a cellphone. The phones are small and lightweight. Fairly easy to use.

On Christmas Day, Himself drove to pick the Weebles up. Himself usually calls me to let me know they have left the launch pad. This gives me time to adjust the meal preparation time or a last minute tidy. As expected, the phone rang and caller ID flashed Himself's cellphone number.

"Hi, Kid!"

"Hello? Hello?"

"Hi Dad!"

"Hello?" and then faintly "Where do I talk? Hello?"

We spent a pleasant holiday. The Brother made a surprise visit. The Weebles were thrilled. It was a good day.

Christmas night we were relaxing in front of the television.

"So, your phone test was an epic fail," I said to Himself.

"It was awful. Poor guy was in the back seat and I'm trying to give him directions to turn the phone on and get the phone directory. 'Push the red button. The red button.' When I heard the happy chimes that the phone was on I told him to press the round button and then to scroll down. ''Use the down arrow button to scroll through the directory. The down arrow. In the center.' I think he called your friend Teague."

We laughed.

"I guess the Tracfone isn't the way to go."

"Definitely not. I'm not even sure the Jitterbug is a good solution."

D-Day

Himself and I were talking about D-Day and the Weebles. D-Day. February 17, 2009. The day television stations will stop broadcasting an analog signal. The Weebles still watch television on a small set with rabbit ears. They do not have cable television. They have FIOS, but won't pay for the television service.

"We could get them a converter box for Christmas," Himself suggested.

"Could we get them a small, flat screen television?"

"We could, but since they don't have cable, we'd still need to get them a converter box. And I don't think a flat screen has the connections for rabbit ears."

"Y'know, they don't really need a television. Dad only watches the news and 60 Minutes. He can watch the news broadcast on the computer. Probably can see 60 Minutes, too."

"That's true."

"Only that wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Can you just hear Dad? They won't give me my news. They won't give me my 60 Minutes."

Himself laughed and pointed at me.

"Yup, your monkey."

Weeble Tech Support

“Oh, could you come a little earlier before mother’s appointment?” asked Dad

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I’m having trouble with the computer.”

“What’s the problem?” I expected to hear ‘They don’t give me my email.’

“I don’t get anything.”

That’s an understatement.

“I turn it on, and I don’t even get a welcome.”

The computer must be on Ma’s side.

“Ok, I’ll come early to see what I can do.”

Dad greeted me at the door and we scurried like mice upstairs to his office. I booted the machine up and sat back in his office chair to watch the screen. There was the happy little Microsoft chime and the Welcome. I was wondering what kind of welcome Dad wanted. ‘Welcome, I’m so glad you’re here. Welcome, we couldn’t get through the day without you. ‘Welcome, you’re gonna pay.’

When last I played computer tech support, Dad’s trial subscription to the antivirus program had run out. I pay enough for him to not turn the computer on much, so didn’t want to pay for a subscription. There are plenty of good, free, antivirus programs out there. I had deleted his antivirus program and had tried to download one of the free programs to get slammed with the ever delightful Windows has encountered a problem and needs to shut down.

The computer went through it’s bootstrap routine. All the little doodahs appeared in the tool tray, but no icons appeared on the desktop. What the…? I revered to the old programmer’s standby. I shut down and rebooted the system. Again, no smiling icons on the desktop.

“See?” he said smugly with his arms folded across his chest.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothing!”

Standard reply. These things don’t just happen like magic. IE was pinned to his start menu and I could access the Internet. I went into the program list to try to make a desktop icon. It didn’t appear. I seemed to recall this happening once before, but nothing was ringing a bell for me. Well, first things first, let’s try to get that antivirus program. Crash! I went into my Gmail account and fired off an email to Himself for ideas. A Google search for missing icons gave me the simple solution that somehow Dad had executed a right click and chosen hide desktop icons. Well that was easy enough to fix. Right click. Arrange icons by name. Show Icons. Ta Dah! The laying on of hands worked.

Fingers flying across the keyboard, I accessed my Yahoo Briefcase to see if I could download a file. No problem there. So, the machine had a problem with .exe files. I went into System Control and checked to make sure all the updates had been done. Dad’s eyes were beginning to spin in his head. I was told all updates had been done, but I was skeptical. I have a free virus program in my downloads folder at home. I’d have to transfer that to my thumbdrive and see if it could be executed from there.

Ma was getting antsy downstairs. Yelling at us that we were going to make her late for her appointment. We had a clean 45 minutes and it only takes five minutes to get to the medical building. She doesn’t like it when I play with Dad, and not her. Another quick email to Himself stating I had solved one problem but was still stuck with a solution to the download problem. Asked if he could talk to the IT guy at his school.

One last check to see if somehow, Dad had removed the administrative protocols from his account or added a second account that didn’t wear the admin hat. Nope, one account and it had admin privileges.

“I’ve sent a request to Himself to talk to the fellas in his computer department to see if they have any answers.”

“Ok. Get me my email.”

We went through his email deleting stuff from November.

“Hey! You were going to get me a glob.”

Que? “Oh, you mean a blog.”

“Yeah, I want one.”

I’ve done this twice before. I had set him up on Blogger and for reasons which should be quite obvious, I don’t want him there now. Blogger had been in the beta phase and had been too confusing to him, so I set him up on 360Yahoo. A nice, easy, social network for boomers and oldsters. Even made him a cartoon avatar that looked like him when he was younger. Nope, he couldn’t negotiate that. Turns out Yahoo is abandoning the 360 site.

“There is a site called Eons,” I called up the site. “You can read about it and sign up here.” We stared at their homepage screen. I don’t know much about this site as I don’t use it. I do know it is for older folks so you won't have to deal with teens.”

“Well, when you find out about it you can…”

“No, Dad. I don’t want to find out about it. I don’t have time to write your blogs for you. If you want to do this, you need to get in there and play around.”

He frowned.

“Fine. I punched the sign me up button. Filled out the form. Asked him what he wanted for a screen name, gave him a password, and noted all this on a piece of paper that will surely find its way to the bottom of a pile or the wastebasket.

“Where do I blog?”

“See the button that says ‘Create blog’? Push that and follow the bouncing ball."

By this time Ma was hollering that we were going to be late, so I shut the computer down.

“You know what?” Dad said in frustration. “Just get rid of this. I don’t use it. Don’t need it.”

“Hate to break this to you, pal, but you're stuck with this for two years.”

His eyes went round and glassy.

“You wanted FIOS. You wanted to bundle with your phone for a flatrate. You signed a 2 yr contract with the phone company. You opt out of this and you breach the contract. I don’t know what penalties are involved.”

Another sigh.

“I just wish I could type,” he whined. He was wishing for his old Olivetti.

“You can.

“How?”

“You go into Word.”

“But they don’t give me an 8 ½ x 11,” he wailed.

I’ve used computers in my work my entire adult life. I started working on them when machines were the size of a Buick. I learned to program on IBM cards. I ran a teletype machine and thought paper tape was the wave of the future. I forgot what it’s like to be a beginner. How much is second nature. All of this is like Buck Rogers to Dad.

“You know, I wish we could find you an old typewriter. The real problem would be finding ribbons, because they just don’t make typewriters and ribbons anymore.”

Deep sigh. Forlorn look.

When Himself got home that night, he gave me a rundown from the IT fellas.

“See if he created an account without admin privs.”

“Did that. He just has the one account, and that says he’s an admin.”

“Make sure all the updates are done.”

“Yup, did that.”

“There’s probably spyware.”

“Yeah, I thought of that too, but until I can download the antivirus program, I won’t be able to find out.”

“See if you can download the antivirus to your thumbdrive and run it from there.”

“Yeah, I thought of that too.”

“The only other thing they said was to upgrade to IE7”

I was pleased that for a dinosaur of a computer programmer, I was on the right track. I still had it. I just wish I could upgrade Dad.

White Rabbit Appointment

Another doctor’s appointment. I arrived early per usual. Thought I would have a chance at visiting for a little bit, a chance for redemption in case the doctor kept them waiting and I had to leave after dropping them off at the house. We had a half an hour before we had to leave for the appointment. Ma was getting herself dressed. Dad wanted me to take a look at the computer.

“They won’t give me anything,” he explained.

“They” as if there are elves in the machine.

“They won’t give me my email. I put my password in, but they won’t let me do anything.”

I booted up his computer. Listened for the happy chime of the Windows logo. Signed onto his ISP with his password and was rewarded with his home page and the email preview.

With him looking over my shoulder, we sorted through his inbox.

In the middle of this, Ma came upstairs and went into the room across the landing which she turned into a sewing room. Dad got very paranoid.

“What’s she doing up here?”

I found Ma standing in front of her industrial Wilcox and Gibbs sewing machine fumbling with some thread. Ma was a seamstress and this antique machine was her baby.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to fix my pants.”

“We have to leave for your appointment in 15 minutes. Your appointment is at quarter to 11” I wasn’t sure why she didn’t fix her pants the say before when she had all day to sew, but questioning her was only going to get me yelled at.

“Here, thread the machine.” She gave me the navy thread.

I can’t sew. I can’t sew on a button to save my life, let alone thread a machine. Ma made me take sewing in jr. high school. (I wanted to take technical drawing, but that’s another story) I hated sewing and the sewing teacher. She wasn’t thrilled with me either and gave me a “C” because she knew my mother was a seamstress. Ma remade my dress at the end of the year so it could be worn.

I held the end of the thread as if it was a snake.

“Here put it through this guide.”

She made it sound so easy and it probably was if I could see the damn eye to the guide. I got the thread close a couple of times.

“Through here,” she yelled.

“I’m trying! I can’t see the damn hole!” The blind leading the blind.

“You have your glasses on!”

“Just because I have my glasses on doesn’t mean I can see!” I tilted my head this way and that trying to find the correct focal point in the bifocals.

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“I’m trying! Stop yelling at me!” The thread slipped through the first guide. Two more guides and then through the #$%@#! eye of the needle.

“Now through here!”

With shaky hands, I tried again.

Ma was breathing down my neck.

“No! Here!”

“Stop yelling at me! If you think you can do better, here!” I dropped the end of the thread.

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Yes, you did! You said ‘Here, thread the machine.’ I picked up the end of the thread and shoved it through the next two guides. I was worried about threading the needle without an electron microscope there was no way I would be able to see the eye of the needle.

I was too busy concentrating on the guides that I didn’t really see what Ma did. She had the end of the bobbin thread.

“Tie a square knot!”

I took the end of the bobbin thread and the thread through the guide. Right over left…

“It has to be a square knot!”

I bit my tongue and finished left over right and pulled the square knot taut.

She pulled on the bobbin thread. I was skeptical, but the navy thread flew through the eye of the needle. Ma grunted with satisfaction, pulled her chair out to sit down to her sewing.

I went back across the hall to Dad’s office.

“What’s she doing?”

“She’s sewing her pants.”

Dad started sputtering and rolled his eyes.

I told him I wanted to do some housekeeping on the machine, and he went downstairs. I cleaned out the temporary files. I also thought the problem he was having getting into his account was due to the old DSL access still in his tool tray. He was probably trying to sign on through that account which no longer exists so I happy deleted the programs.

I only had one point of contention with the FIOS ISP and that was virus security. Under the DSL account, the virus protection program was free. FIOS offered a 30 day trial subscription to Norton. Now, I pay $40 a month for “them” not “to give him anything” and I don’t want to pay an additional fee for him not to turn the computer on.

I wasn’t worried as there are plenty of free virus protection programs. AVG, Avast, Panda. They all work equally well. I downloaded Avast and in the middle of the download encountered a Windows error. Tried again. Same problem. Tried Panda. Same problem. What the… Checked his log in account to make sure he had administrator privileges. Yup, that was ok. Maybe I’d have to reinstall Windows.

It was now quarter to 11 and Dad with hat and coat on came upstairs.

We could hear the whirr of Ma’s sewing machine.

“Take your hat and coat off,” I said. “It’s going to be awhile.”

“But we’re going to be late.”

“I know.” I shut down the computer. I wasn't worried about the computer not having virus protection. Dad doesn't turn it on often enough for a viral invasion and because "they" don't give him his email, he's pretty much protected.

Dad started to sputter and was heading across the hall for a confrontation with Ma. I grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Look, yelling at her to hurry isn’t going to change anything. Her little trolley won’t slip the track.” I thought of the way The Brother let's Weeble aggravation roll off his back with an oh, wow. 'Oh,wow. We missed an appointment.' No worries.

“Why didn’t she sew yesterday?” He was gearing up to explode.

I shrugged. “Look, calm down. If she misses the appointment, you can schedule another, and I’ll take you.”

Dad looked at his watch. “Maybe I better tell them we’re going to be late.”

“Good idea.”

The appointment was rescheduled and Dad put the kettle on for tea.

Ma came downstairs. “I’m ready to go now.”

“You missed the appointment and it’s been rescheduled,” I said.

She looked at the clock.

“Your appointment was at quarter to 11,” I added.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did, but you had to sew your pants.”

“Hmm,” Ma sniffed indignantly. “That doctor wouldn’t even wait for me. Why didn’t he wait for me?”

I laughed. Ever La Signora, The Lady. “He has other patients and can’t wait until you’re good and ready to grant the doctor an audience.”

Ma made lunch and Dad and I sipped our tea in the living room.

“Come set the table,” Ma yelled. Dad and I both jumped as we didn’t know which one of us she was commanding.

She brought 3 cheeseburgers to the table.

I frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t like cheese.”

“Since when?”

I laughed. “Since forever. Don’t you remember when I was at St. Pat’s when it was grilled cheese day, Mrs. Burns [a neighbor who was the head dietician at the parochial school] would stop the lunch line and bring me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich so the nuns wouldn’t yell at me for wasting the grilled cheese sandwich I wouldn’t eat?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it.” We sat down, ate lunch and had a nice visit.

On the ride home I was congratulating myself for being so calm about the missed appointment. Surely, I must have risen to the eighth level of Hell for not losing my temper. Maybe even a small gem for my heavenly crown. I patted myself on the back. A thought struck me and my elation sank. Pride is the worse of the Seven Deadly Sins. Lucifer committed the sin of pride and fell. Being so smug about how I didn’t lose my temper was hubris. Oh, well, back to the ninth level of Hell.

One Car Funeral - Parte Deux

After we dropped the Weebles off after the dress rehearsal for the funeral, Himself looked at me and said, "What did we learn from this?"

"Never to trust directions from Mapquest?"

"And?"

"Never to trust appointments made by the Weebles. If I don't personally make the appointment, I am to call and check the appointment with a person of authority, not a Weeble."

The morning of the funeral was a bit more hectic than the morning of the dress rehearsal. I wrote out a few more Christmas cards for my client, and then went to pull the Young One out of school. I couldn't ask Red to go pick the Young One up, so the girl had the afternoon off from school. She didn't seem too upset.

While the Young One had lunch, I made a phone call.

"Good morning, Sacred Heart Church, may I help you?"

"Yes, I would like to check the date and time for a funeral Mass for the Uncle?"

"Father Salducci will say the Mass today at 3 o'clock."

"Thank you."

The dress rehearsal certainly helped as Himself negotiated the streets without getting lost. The old woman must have been watching out for us because there was a parking space right in front of the church.

One eerie thing happened. We were introducing ourselves to Fr. Salducci so he would understand the theory of relativity. Ma introduced me as her sister, Doti, gone six years. I corrected the introduction.

The roof didn't fall in when I entered the church. Fr. Salducci said a beautiful service and was very attentive to Ma. She liked being treated like La Segnora, the lady.

After the funeral, we went back to Uncle Salvatore's for coffee and the old woman made sure we got a space right in front of the house. As we were removing coats, Ma told me when she looked at me when we were being introduced to the priest, she said she saw her sister instead of me. It didn't surprise me as Ma and her sister were very close. Ma seemed happy and comforted that her sister dropped by.

I performed a tech support service for Uncle Salvatore. The display on his phone was in Spanish. By pressing the menu button, I was able to select English for the display. Uncle was thrilled he could now read and understand the display on his phone. Maybe I've discovered a new career for myself. Weeble Tech Support. Could I handle the stress? Where's my Mahta-Cro?

The Laying On of Hands

Long ago, in my former life, I was a computer programmer/consultant. Back in those days, the computer systems were the size of a Buick, and programmers were treated like gods. I'd go to a client and personnel would part like the Red Sea as I walked through the office. I would lay my hands on the machine and bring crashed programs back to life. Heady stuff along with the satisfaction of solving a problem, usually human error.

A year or so ago, we gave Dad a computer. I thought it would open up a new world for him, as well as keep him out of Ma's hair. I signed him up with America On Hold. Assured him I'd pay the bill so Ma wouldn't see anything. I'm not overly fond of AOH, but it is the easiest portal to use. I spent lots of visits with Dad going through the basics of turning the machine on and off, how to get his mail. Dad spent many hours I constantly heard complaints. "They don't give me my email," as if there are little people inside the machine who like to aggravate the user. "I've never seen that screen before," in reference to the Windows logo that comes up when la machine is turned on.

DSL became available in their area through the phone company and for less money than I was paying for AOH. A lot of his complaints had to do with no being able to get online. I thought high speed would be the answer as he'd always be online. Cancelled AOH and signed him up for DSL. DSL would be better. He could surf and the phone would still be available in case of an emergency. The dial up always worried me as I thought what if there is an emergency and in their panic he forgot the phone was still connected to the computer. Yes, DSL would be better.

The phone company sent me an entire kit to make the connections, the modem, splitter for the phone. I only had one phone that proved to be a problem as it still had the four prong jack instead of the modern module system. It was an easy enough problem to solve. Since the room isn't in use, I unplugged the phone. There's a bit of residual static on the line. This from an old phone in the basement that was hard wired into the phone line. Not an approved telephone company procedure. However, it doesn't seem to interfere with the computer.

So, got him up and running and still hear the same complaints. "They" are really out to get him.

Dad called this morning and as I thought he had given up on the computer was surprised when he said,"I turned it on, but nothing happens. It's been like this for three days."

Now, the Young One had played on the computer during the Ave Maria festivities. She didn't have any problems getting online to YouTube.

"What do you mean "nothing happens"? I asked instantly going into consultant mode.

"The screen is blank. I can hear the sound when I turn it on, but don't see anything."

"Is the computer on now?"

"No."

"Okay, turn it on and tell me what you see."

A few seconds later, I could hear the CPU drives engage and the happy chime of the Windows logo.

"There? Did you hear that? Now nothing."

"Nothing? Did you see the Windows logo on the screen?"

"No."

I started ticking off possible problems, the video card was blown, or a problem with the monitor, and I decided to go for the obvious. "Did you turn on the monitor?"

"What's that?"

"The television screen in front of you. Did you turn that on?"

"No. I never had to do that before."

I've always had to turn on his monitor, but I didn't want to get into an argument. "Ok, try turning on the mon...the television screen in front of you."

"How do I do that?"

I tried to picture his monitor. "There should be a button on the front of it."

"Oh, I see it."

"Push it."

"Oh! There it is!"

Nineteen years away from the industry, and I still haven't lost my touch. I just might have to wear two cowboy hats because my head is so big.