I know I am not the only one out here who is susceptible to panic attacks when even thinking about sitting down at a computer. An engineer by training and occupation, I managed to avoid facing my long-based fear of the computer for more than forty years until suddenly and unexpectedly, I was thrust into a professional position in which job duties could not be handled without logging on to the Company system. My desk array at that time necessarily included the requisite "IN" and "OUT" baskets, a stapler, a desktop calendar, a tape dispenser, my PC monitor, and a large paper bag to put over my head whenever I began hyperventilating.

For those of you with similar office decor, may I only promise you that there is hope.

My own phobia was rooted in my first exposure to computers in 1962, when, at the innocent age of 18 years I left the security of a protected and non-technical upbringing in rural Illinois to be rudely deposited into the hallowed halls of Technomania Incarnate: a freshman year at M.I.T. A featured attraction was the computer laboratory, with its monolith of vacuum tube computer in an air-locked, climate-controlled inner sanctum the size of a small aircraft hanger and accessible only to upperclassmen and graduate-school Techies. These privileged souls were easily recognizable by their ever-present burden of numerous trays of punch cards. Frequent occasions of mid-hall collision resulted in a showy display of cards cast asunder like a Roman candle and an even showier display of proficiency in the English language. A predictable consequence was the birth of an intramural sport that quickly grew to Olympic proportions, aptly named the "trip and run."

The memory of sobbing students scurrying across the floor trying desperately to recover their work product of an entire semester has left a lasting impression not unlike the scar from my appendectomy.

Entering the professional world some years later, having crammed four year of college into five, this early antipathy was not assuaged by my initial exposure to IBM-mainframe applications in various industries, where the computer gurus were uniformly regarded with awe and suspicion - awe at their seemingly unattainable prowess in controlling various processes and, thus, our lives, and suspicion that what they were really doing was trying to find a way to eliminate our jobs.

Seeing the writing on the wall, and not liking what was written, I resolved to live by the adage, "If you can't lick 'em, join 'em" and I enrolled in a non-credit junior college course "Introduction to FORTRAN," by the end of which, some eight weeks later, I was fully convinced that all computer geeks were actually alien beings, and that I had best enroll in a course to prepare me for my next likely employment opportunity, "Ditch Digging Made Easy."

Time passed, as it does, and one day I noticed, to my astonishment, that the IBM Selectric typewriter had been replaced on my secretary's desk by a computer workstation, and with this change also came a change in her productivity and her vocabulary. By this time convinced that all these mysteries were beyond my puny brain to assimilate, I was content for some years to close my eyes to the fact that I was rapidly letting myself become a technical dinosaur.

Resolved at last to update my skills, I embarked on a painful process of familiarization with the technology of the day, beginning with my own workstation tied into the company mainframe. Seeking assistance from my secretary at the time, a lady of gargantuan proportions and even greater man-hatred, did little to spawn confidence, but, with time and effort (not to mention considerable groveling) I did gain at least a passing familiarity with Email, Word, Word Perfect, and a smattering of Lotus. In this effort, I found three major obstacles firmly blocking my progress:

1. Computerese jargon

2. Inability to find a mentor willing to extend the patience needed to help me

3. Templates

To those of you similarly beset, may I offer this advice: First, be patient. Why does someone refer to your word processor one time as a program and in the next sentence as an application? It doesn't matter.

Second, be patient. When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.

Third, be patient. Eventually your hand-me-down IBM-compatible will crater and in a fit of inspiration you will buy yourself a Mac.

As one who has been there, let me assure you that the difference will boggle your mind. For one thing, you will not have to rent a warehouse to store your program manuals. Most of the programs come with built-in tutorials that will help you develop at least a working knowledge of the program. On those occasions where a thirst for knowledge or professional-class expertise drives you to the written word for clarifications and enlightenment, you will find, as I have, that the people who write the manuals for Mac programs understand your frustrations, and they try diligently and effectively to make their manuals readable and even humorous.

Mac people also seem more willing to help us dummies. This is a strange phenomenon that I suspect will someday become a hot topic for sociologists seeking tax-funded grants to study. May I offer my own explanation in an attempt to conserve the taxpayers' money? Just ask yourself, "Who was a more 'fun' person, your kindergarten teacher or your calculus instructor?" Since the Mac programs are fundamentally easier to understand, teaching them is more enjoyable.

And, best of all, you don't need templates.

My mentor, I am proud to acknowledge, is my son, "thebardmacd". I will not try to tell you that it was a painless transition for me (or for him) to get me through my hang-ups. As an engineer-type person, my training was to focus on details and to build the details into the "big" picture, whereas in computer usage I find that most tasks start with the overview and descend to the details.

I am getting over my hang ups, and with the money I am saving on paper bags alone I am excited about how far I have come. I hope to keep you posted in weeks to come on my new adventures. I'm learning something new every day, and for the first time, the learning is fun. It was a revelation when I learned that I was not going to trash my system by pressing the "wrong button." The potential of each new program that I play with and explore is exciting. I hope to go into detail in future installments of this article, and I would love to hear from you if you have faced similar challenges in this exciting world of computers.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7