November 24, 2009.  Rare Find – A Computer Handyman

Last week, my wife's computer got the wobblies.  It was running slower than a 1980s computer with 56K of RAM and took ten minutes just to restart.  It was also making a whirring sound as if it was trying to start a program but couldn't get it to run.  If a computer did such things, I would have expected it to cough up a hairball.

All my efforts to remedy the situation failed.  Then I recalled that a friend had given me the phone number of someone who works out of his home as a "high-tech handyman."  I called that number, got an answering machine, and left a message for "Pete."  Given the way that virtually all craftsmen from electricians to plumbers operate these days, I expected that I might hear from Pete in a few days, if at all.  Astonishingly, he returned my call in a matter of hours.

Pete listened patiently to my amateur description of the problem and surmised that the computer had a virus.  He recommended a program that I could download and install.  After we ended the call, I tried that.  Although I was able to install the program, the computer lapsed into its "coughing up a hairball" routine when I tried to run it.  I called Pete back, and we agreed that the only sensible course was for me to bring the computer to him.

The next day (Saturday), I loaded the computer – a hulking tower that weighs about 50 pounds (it was bought in 2003) – into the car and made the 20-minute drive to Pete's house.  We reviewed the symptoms, and I left it with him.  Since it was a weekend and the next week included Thanksgiving, I expected that my wife would be without a computer for at least a week.  I had just returned home from trip when Pete called me.

It wasn't a computer virus, he said.  My hard drive was dying.  Fortunately, I had a second hard drive in the computer – something I had originally included for hackups but never used because I decided that an external drive made more sense for that purpose.  Pete said he would try to transfer everything from the dying drive to the secondary one, which he said was more reliable than the other anyway.  The defective drive is a Maxtor, but the secondary drive is a Western Digital; he said that Maxtor drives are crappy.

The very next morning (Sunday), Pete called me again, saying that everything was fixed, and I could pick up the computer.  He had transferred everything (programs, data, etc.) to the secondary files, backed up all document files on DVD (just in case), and segmented the drive so that, should I get a virus in the future, it would be easier and cheaper to repair any damage (even though this time the problem was not a virus).  His bill was less than $100.

When I got the computer home that afternoon, I reconnected everything as it had been before.  Everything worked perfectly, and I needed to make no adjustments to settings or anything else.  If anything, it was running somewhat faster than it had been for some time.

Such experiences are rare in the computer world or, for that matter, with anything that requires technical help, from a malfunctioning toilet to a car that won't start.  Getting prompt, reliable service is so unusual that, if anything breaks that we can't fix ourselves, we expect a long wait, considerable hassle, and a huge repair bill.  Often, many of us would sooner stretch the budget by buying a replacement than go through the hassle of trying to get something repaired.

Not long ago, a friend said to me that finding a reliable auto mechanic was almost as important as having a good doctor.  Nowadays, having a knowledgeable and reliable computer technician on tap ranks up there with having a good doctor and a good auto mechanic.  I consider myself very fortunate to have found such an individual.

November 26, 2009.  Students Who Cannot Read

I recently assigned an essay recently based on an eight-paragraph article titled "The Power of Negative Thinking" by Barbara Ehrenreich.  Her first paragraph says that much of the blame for the financial crisis should be placed on
"the delusional optimism of mainstream, all-American, positive thinking."  The next four paragraphs express, with some sarcasm. several examples of how we act as if everything will work our well if we just think positively about it – our view that we can achieve anything we want just by thinking that we can.

The sixth and seventh paragraphs point out that we became "deluded optimists" (she again uses deluded or delusional) in conjunction with the optimism) as a reaction to the doom and gloom pessimism of the Calvinists who were among America's earliest settlers, stating that such extreme negativity wasn't good either.  In the last paragraph, she states her point – that purely positive or negative thinking are not our only options.  "The alternative to both is realism," she writes, ". . . seeing the risks, having the courage to bear the bad news and being prepared for famine as well as plenty."

The assignment for my students was simple – to state what Ehrenreich's point was, to tell whether they agreed, and to give their reasons.

Several students began their essays with statements such as this:  "I agree with Barbara Ehrenreich that it is important to think positively."  They then went on, at length, to explain that we can accomplish anything if we only think positively and to describe how, conversely, being critical or negative is bad.  Understand – they were not expressing disagreement with the article; they thought that this was what it said.  They read the paragraphs describing what Ehrenreich clearly identifies as "delusional optimism" as the way she believes we should think.

Furthermore, this was not something they had to write spontaneously.  They were given the article a week in advance, plenty of time to read and consider its eight paragraphs and consider their response.  The reading was neither difficult nor long.  Yet several students utterly misunderstood it.

Can these college freshmen not read a simple newspaper article?  Did they just skim it, hastily conclude that it's the old bromide about positive thinking (ignoring both its title and the reference to "delusional optimism" in the first paragraph) and thus write some drivel about being positive?  Was it too much of a burden for them to make it to the point stated in the last paragraph?

I don't know.  All I know is that some papers on this assignment have nailed down what I believe to be the primary reason why many of my students cannot write coherently:  they cannot read and do not think.

November 30, 2009.   Anticlimaxes

The semester is winding down, and soon it will be over.  I will have worked very hard for fifteen weeks in an effiort to teach my students how to write.  Much of this effort was drudgery, sometimes with a cloud of despair hovering over me as students seemed unable or unwilling to "get it."  Still, some of it was fun, and I sometimes left class, when it went well, on a sort of natural high.  Despite the ups and downs, when I turn in the grades at the end of the semester, I invariably experience an anticlimax.  There is much more I could have done; there are things I could have done differently.  Yes, there's another semester over the hill, but this class is gone.  I shall miss some of the students – not many, but some.  We rarely end on some dramatic high note; the semester just sort of fades away.

At the same time, I am distributing to friends the discs of Christmas music that I have been compiling, copying, and packaging since October.  This, too, has represented a lot of time and work.  It has been fun as well.  At times, when I'm creating the programs, I have envisioned their reactions as they play the discs.  Of course, I get the "thank you's" and some comments from people, but I'm not present when they listen to the discs.  I even enjoy listening to my own products, even though by then I'm so familiar with them that there are no surprises.  Again, there's a distinct feeling of anticlimax.  All the intense effort fades into a whisper, which isn't exactly disappointment but just a vague sense that, after all this, one should have a more intense feeling of accomplishment.

As we approach the holidays, I reflect that this must be something that we all experience.  There is an intense buildup – sometimes fun, sometimes fraught with anxiety, always involving considerable effort and time.  No matter how well it goes, the holidays always end with a vague feeling of anticlimax.  Putting the decorations away for another year is never as exciting or interesting as putting them up.

Over the years, I've learned somewhat how to deal with this.  I try to focus more on the preparations than on the event itself, more on the process than the product.  If the preparation or process isn't fun, I say, the event or product isn't worth the effort.  This is not always easy, for the two are intertwined.  If one is hosting a party, it's hard to enjoy the preparations without hoping that the party is a success.  However, the truth is that, even if the party is a flop, it isn't a total loss if one enjoyed getting ready for it.  Another truth is that, if our expectations are too high, the event will not meet them, and the preparations will be more anxiety-ridden.

Many a holiday has been spoiled either by expectations that it will be perfect (is it ever?) or by the anxiety incumbent upon trying to make it perfect.

I've heard people say that the way to deal with Christmas or any other special occasion is to convince oneslf that it is, after all, just another day, just another span of twenty-four hours.  I don't agree with that.  If we don't allow it its "specialness," all the preparations become meaningless.  We have no special joy in the day before, during, or after.  The time to look upon a special day as just another day is after it has passed.  Then we can begin to look upon each ordinary day for its own specialness.  That's probably the best way to prevent the feeling of anticlimax when time brings one thing to an end and we move on, as we always must, to the next.

December 3, 2009.  Cash for Christmas

George Will had a column the other day suggesting that we would all be considerably happier if we stopped giving gifts at Christmas and gave cash instead.  It isn't Will's idea originally; he is citing ideas from a book titled Scroogenomics: Why You Shouldn't Buy Presents for the Holidays by Joel Waldfogel, a professor at the esteemed Wharton business school at the University of Pennsylvania.

Waldfogel's idea is that we can measure the economic efficiency (or inefficiency) of gift-giving by looking at the difference between the money that the giver spends on a gift and how much the recipient of the gift would pay if he or she were to buy the same item for himself or herself.  For example, if we spend $35 on a silk scarf for Aunt Bertha just for the sake of giving her something, but Aunt Bertha would probably never spend a dime for the same item, that's a waste of $35.

Well, that part of it is certainly obvious.  Will and Waldfogel next address the premise that the billions of dollars we spend each year on such unwanted gifts strengthens the economy.  What they say is:  "If all spending justified itself, we would pay people to dig holes and then refill them . . . .  Spending is good if the purchaser, or the recipient of a gift, values the commodity more than he does the money it costs.  Otherwise, there is a subtraction from society's store of value."

I'm not altogether sure what "subtraction from society's store of value" is supposed to mean.  I still have to agree with the economists' premise that consumer spending is necessary to fuel the economy, and it doesn't matter, from an economic viewpoint, whether the money is spent on commodities that people need and will use or on stuff that people will store in a closet or throw away.  The $35 spent on Aunt Bertha's scarf is still $35 in consumer spending.  A more important point, it seems to me, is that, if we gave Aunt Bertha $35 in cash, she would most likely spend this money on something she really wanted, so the money would still go into the economy – and everyone would be happier, especially Aunt Bertha,

Besides, I doubt if many of us go out shopping for the holidays thinking, "I'm going out to buy a bunch of stuff that people may not want or need so that I can help to keep the economy healthy."  If that were true, we would never look for bargains because bargains, by definition, mean smaller profits for the seller.  Smaller profits, in turn, are not good for the economy.  The economic health of a business is measured not only by how much it sells but on how much profit it makes on what it does sell.  In fact, the latter is more important than the former.

As Will suggests, however, we have come to engage in a psychology of gift-giving that, putting all economic considerations aside, is wasteful and stupid.  He doesn't say that in so many words and doesn't use the word stupid, but that's certainly the implication.  He even says that the "psychological cost" to Aunt Bertha of pretending that she really wanted the $35 scarf should be deducted from its value to her (which is, of course, zero dollars).

Be that as it may, I think we've all had the experience of receiving gifts (sometimes, we suspect, overpriced) that we don't want or need – and perhaps thinking, "I wish that they had given me money so that I could buy _____ [fill in something you wanted, couldn't afford, and didn't get]."  We've also bought presents for people to whom we wanted to give a present, hadn't a clue what to buy, and had a queasy feeling that what we did get was a bad call.  Of course, we may never know because the recipient will gush appreciation – and then sneak around trying to exchange it or "regift" it, hoping we never find out.  We will do the same when we get that gaudy blouse or sport shirt that we would never be caught dead wearing.

As Will points out, social etiquette requires that we graciously accept whatever the gift is.  We are supposed to say something like, "Oh, you shouldn't have" – without ever showing that we mean it quite literally.  Sometimes that may happen even with presents that are appropriate.  For example, I own no fewer than four copies of a book that is particularly appropriate for me.  I bought the first copy myself; the other three were gifts that I received and applauded with comments about how appropriate they were.  When I was given the fourth copy of the same book, I found myself wishing that I had gone to acting school. 

I know, "it's the thought that counts," but one doesn't have to be a Scrooge or a Grinch to want to apply some practicality in gift-giving.  Even if the thought is wonderful, there's nothing sensible or thoughtful about giving presents based on guesswork and thus risking that the recipient will be forced to put on an act worthy of an Academy Award.  Maybe opening an envelope and fuinding cash in it isn't as much fun as unwrapping a package, but upening a package and finiding therein something that we don't want (and having to pretend that we do) isn't much fun either.

Perhaps we are becoming more sensible.  I understand tha gift cards are now very popular, though there are some downsides to them as well.  Merchants love them, of course.  A reasonable percentage are never redeemed because people forget, so the sale of the card is sheer profit.  One must also be careful to ensure that the card doesn't have an expiration date or some other restriction.  They're not always a good idea for kids because, in the chaos of unwrapping presents, the card may get lost or misplaced.  How many parents have spent part of Christmas sorting through the trash for the gift card that junior tossed aside with the discarded boxes and wrapping paper?  Cash can get misplsced, too, but that's not as likely.

Long ago, my wife and I developed a much more sensible approach to gift-giving.  We virtually abolished "surprises," especially when gifting one another.  We don't buy anything for each other unless we are 100% certain that the recipient would buy it for himself or herself.   On the remote chance that an exchange may be necessary, we make sure that one is possible, with a minimum of hassle.  For the most part, however, we buy our own stuff and give it to the other one to wrap up.  This isn't very "sentimental," but it works well, especially since we are as old and forgetful as we have become.  We often have surprises on Christmas morning anyway because we will have forgotten what we bought for ourselves.

I suppose that this suggestion that we let people buy gifts for themselves – whether it's by giving them cash or by an arrangement such as my wife and I have – will strike some people as totally contrary to the whole idea of gift-giving.  I don't think it is, and that's not because I'm a cold-blooded, hard-hearted curmudgeon.  If I know exactly what somebody wants for Christmas and am certain that nobody else will get it for him or her, I prefer to buy and give a present.  Otherwise, I'll give cash.  I've yet to suspect anyone of faking when saying "thank you" for a gift of cash or to hear of a cash gift that was stashed in the back of a closet and forgotten.