People my age (I'll be 70 in another year) are supposed to be technology-averse, and many of my peers are.  They shun the latest gadgets, and many are afraid of them.  They may have computers – often because their children pressed them to get one – but they rarely go beyond the most basic uses.  While the world is going digital, they're stuck in an analog rut; some are not even sure what "analog" and "digital" mean.

Perhaps they are believers in the axiom that "you can't teach an old dog new tricks."  They suppose that their aging brains, in the gradual process of declining into eventual dementia, are incapable of coping with new and complex information.  Quite naturally, people who habitually forget where they put their car keys a few minutes ago are convinced that they cannot learn, much less remember, how to use complicated gizmos.

According to an article in Time magazine, however, such notions are untrue ("The Surprising Power of the Aging Brain," Jan. 16, 2006).  Researchers have found that, rather than powering down, "the brain as it ages begins bringing new cognitive systems on line and cross-indexing new ones as it never did before."  Though short-term memory is not what it was, new skills develop and "you manage information and parse meanings that were entirely beyond you when you were younger."  The brain is more supple and elastic than we once thought.  Indeed, the article says that "the brain spends decades upgrading itself from a dial-up Internet to a high-speed version" – a process that is not complete until age 45 or 50.  What happens after that is not necessarily a decline but may be better use of the brain's capabilities for analysis, decision-making, and problem-solving, all of which are important for managing today's high-tech gadgets.

Coincidentally, I was in my late forties when digital technology entered the mainstream in a big way.  I resisted.  I am (or was) uneasy with dramatic changes, have (or had) little confidence in my technical skills, and am not much of a risk-taker.  In a comment that is now famous in our family, I declared that "a computer will enter this house over my dead body."  Nevertheless, I was forced to yield.  The office in which I worked as an editor was converting to PCs, and our daughter needed a computer for her schoolwork.

That began a transition that I mistakenly believed my aging and deteriorating brain could not handle.  If you had told me then that I would eventually be addicted to using a computer, I would have declared you mad.  If you had predicted that I would be managing my own website, downloading and uploading digital photographs, and performing other technical tasks almost as automatically as I tie my shoelaces, I would have suggested that you sign yourself in at the nearest psychiatric treatment center.

Up to this time, about the only technical project in which I had developed moderate competence was setting up a component audio system and learning how to dub music from various sources to analog audiotape.  Even that required much swearing and pushed my patience to the limits.  That I would one day be compiling musical collections on compact digital discs seemed unlikely, yet within a little more than ten years, I was not only doing that but also creating labels and covers.  It seemed improbable that a man who took months or years to figure out how to program a VCR would eventually be recording DVDs, but that too has recently come to pass.

As a photographer, I've always been a point-and-shoot kind of guy, who was intimidated by cameras with complex settings and usually required help to load the film in the camera.  Digital cameras changed all that.  Although these new cameras seemed to have enough dials and buttons to launch and control a space probe, I found that I could still point and shoot, with better results.  Using the dials wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, and transferring photos to the computer and printing them out, transmitting them by e-mail, or posting them on the Internet turned out to be much easier than I anticipated.  My Canon PowerShot S2 IS isn't completely idiot-proof, but it took me less than a half hour to learn how to take outstanding pictures with it.  Getting good results with a video camera is considerably harder, and I'm still working on it; however, success in learning to use one digital device leads to confidence that we can master others.

Sometimes I wonder whether digital media are actually getting easier to use or that my brain has acquired more patience.  It's probably a bit of both.  According to some experts, the notion that seniors inevitably become crabbier and more impatient is a myth.  As the brain's ability to think reflectively about problem-solving improves, we may become more patient.  Younger brains may be more receptive to flashes of insight, but older brains are more likely to see the benefits of step-by-step approaches, which is precisely what using high-tech devices requires.  Machines follow logical steps.  To use them well – and sometimes to use them at all – we must "think" as they do.

I believe that those who fail to see the benefits of digital technology are those who haven't tried it enough – because they fear it, because they feel that their brains are unequal to the task, or both.  I also believe that surmounting these self-imposed barriers is worth the effort.  Mental exercise is as important for the brain as physical exercise is for the body.

Sure, we can limit our digital experience to lolling about looking at our widescreen, high-definition TV (and soon these will be so common that analog TVs will be antiques), but we're missing a lot if we don't try any of the other digital wonders.  Why let the kids have all the fun?