HOW TO LIVE

(Heh-heh. That ought to bring in a click or two.)

Once upon a time, a long time ago, to enter information into what were called computers, you had to type on a machine that punched holes into paper tape or longish cards which you would stack neatly and feed into the the monster. There was even an occupational category called "keypunch operator." Outfits like the I.R.S. would hire thousands of people to sit in large rooms and do this sort of thing day after day. Yes, that's right, and after work everyone would saddle up their ponies or take the stagecoach and ride on home. . .

In those antediluvian times, before there were radial tires, electric screwdrivers, or more than three TV channels, a certain University of Texas graduate student had occasion to visit the home of his thesis advisor in the Texas Hill Country. The professor's name was Helmut and he lived in an enviable spot that is now probably ringed with clogged suburban streets and Seven-Elevens. Back then it sat on a cedar-covered hilltop with a 360-degree view and there were no other houses visible for miles. Helmut had built himself quite a home, the student thought. A flat rooftop seating area, much like you'd find in certain Mexican or Middle Eastern homes, offered a place for stargazing and conversation at night and birdwatching by day. Helmut had transformed a barren rocky slope on one side of the house into a beautiful Oriental-style water garden, where trickling streams meandered down over carefully-placed stones and ledges into a small pool that constantly attracted all sorts of wildlife. It was all quite marvelous and stimulating.

Inside the house, in a partly below-ground space dug into the hillside, Helmut had a library to die for. There was a huge room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on all four walls. Midway between each corner, set into a recessed nook in the stacks, was a fancy leather-covered chair with a bright reading lamp. Four of them, in other words. Beside one of these reading and lounging stations was a fine stereo system and record storage space. Beside another was a miniature bar and liquor cabinet. No matter where you were standing in the room when you found the book you wanted, you could always find a nearby comfy seat a few steps away. The self-satisfying dynamics of this arrangement were awesome, even scary, in the face of the Puritan denial our young observer had grown up with. But the adjacent bathroom was the real showpiece!

Now, when I'm in the bathroom, I like to read. In our upstairs facility, there's a big basket of Macintosh magazines and computer catalogs beside the throne. But Helmut was smarter than that: his bathroom featured recessed shelves built into the wall, and all the current magazines you could hope for! In fact, every bathroom in the house (and there were several) was built the same way. Very impressive.

Helmut's ghost seems nearby this evening, reminding me of all this. For a man so much into books and matters of the mind, I wonder what he would think of the so-called information age, of computer technology and Internet access to just about everything. He'd probably have a computer terminal beside each of those big leather chairs! Of course, spirits can go anywhere instantly, and if that is Helmut's ghost, he's laughing out loud at the clumsy way we mortals try to transcend time and space by squeezing bandwidth inside a cable. It does seem kind of silly, when you think about it, like putting all your potential into just one sort of life. Good ole Helmut. (At least I'm sure he would have used a Mac.)

I had to go live in a tiny little town and teach at a junior college to keep from being made to go abroad and kill people I didn't know. Neither of these choices was at the top of my list of Favorite Things to Do and everyone knew it! Helmut told me to go and "grow like a tree." I never did figure out exactly what he meant, but it sounded wise, and pondering this did help me pass the time.

It's funny what sort of things stick in your memory, what things make a lasting impression, like old-timey IBM cards, one-man libraries, and built-in magazine shelves in the bathroom. "Grow like a tree," too. I wonder if he knew he was key-punching my soul. Maybe that's why I thought about Helmut a couple of hours ago and felt goosebumps while I stood there brushing my teeth. Maybe he dropped by to feed those cards into me so I'd move on to the next few paragraphs.

You see, I have a friend who lives nearby, a lady who needs a little push. She's a Photoshop expert who's spent years honing her graphics skills and works at an advertising agency designing Web sites. She could probably go anywhere and make a good living, but she lives here, where she grew up, surrounded by old friends and familiar landscapes. Like most of us, she has a certain amount of personal baggage that weights her down in some respects, but in her case a rollicking social life centered around the local community theater scene tends to cover it up. She has a grown son whose college loans she's paying off (something I could never have imagined my parents doing), and the local advertising agency has never paid her what she's worth, so she doesn't ever seem to have the money for things that could really make a difference in her life, like a nice high-end Mac system or a house of her own.

After a long involuntary drought, she now has a man who loves her and wants them to live together. He's into computers too, a PC guy with his own style and a great sense of humor. The two of them are made for each other! The only problem is that he lives two hours away, down by the ocean. They spend most weekends together, usually at his place, and the obvious drawbacks of this arrangement are a constant source of conversation between the two of them and all her friends. After months of thinking about this from all possible angles, she's still stuck without those shelves in the bathroom, if you get my drift.

She's figured out that since neither one of them is willing to exchange territories, they need to set up housekeeping together in a different place entirely. He's even willing to go someplace far away. But the latest wrinkle is they've actually been looking at houses in a town not too far from his present location. He could presumably keep his job and she'd have to find another -- and it just so happens that a growing nearby city offers hope of just that. (A Photoshop expert, mind you. We're talking Meal Ticket City.) The air, however, is full of mostly negative "what if's," and there the matter hangs for now: what if she can't get a job, what if they can't stand each other, what if none of her old friends can bear to drive all the way down there -- to the ocean. Good grief!

My friend is a sensible lady and will sooner or later organize her life to suit herself, I figure. I'm not worried about her at all, just a little frustrated, in a compassionate sort of way. Besides, I'm going to be leaving town myself pretty soon, and it would be comforting to know I wasn't the only crazy one. Don't we Internet dudes and dudesses have the power to go anywhere and do anything? (I think it says that on the side of the box my new modem came in.) "Attention, campers! Life Upgrade 1.0.1b is now available!"

Is that the same as "grow like a tree"? Darned if I know. For a German guy, Helmut was one inscrutable sumbitch.

"Lebe, wie du, wenn du stirbst, wünschen wirst, gelebt zu haben. -- Live, as when you die, you will wish to have lived." -- Helmut Rehder, 1905 - 1977.

[We're gonna "grow like a piñon" in Taos County. Any housing leads, including housesitting opportunities, rentals, and property to buy greatly appreciated. Please contact Juan.]

SPECIAL! CHEAP THRILLS! Hit this link to view this page with a QuickTime 3 version of the byline photo image that spins and burns and does all kinds o' things. We've been playing with Electrifier Pro. . .

John H. Farr also edits the Apple Computer News for Applelinks.com and welcomes your comments on anything under the sun. His own Web site, the ZOO ZONE, is a ball o' fire on a G3 server and just renewed its domain name! ("Zoozone.com." Ain't that great? Uh, wanna buy it???)

The Farr Site Forum suffers from occasional postings from sinners and morons but is a great place to see what self-publishing feels like.

The Farr Site archives have links to all the old stuff. Have a blast!

May 16, 2012