It's a cold autumn evening as Gartok the Wise carefully transcribes the events from the tribe's successful hunting trip on his cave wall. Using only a sharp stick dipped in antelope's blood, he uses all the primitive artistic talent he can muster in order to capture the essence of what was probably the most successful hunt in his tribes history. Gartok takes a few steps back, holds his hand to his chin, strokes his protruding frontal lobe and carefully looks over his current masterpiece.

"Hmmm, wooly mammoth need more spears stuck in body."

He proceeds to add more embellishments to the day's events when Gartok's son, Pilnor the Unwashed enters the cave rolling in a peculiar oval stone. Gartok looks quizzically at the unusual object that Pilnor has rolled over the cave's cold hard floor.

"Pilnor! Why have you brought this…ummm… rock into my cave?"

"Father, this rock is going to change our lives forever. This rock is going to elevate our tribe into a new level of human existence. I call it….THE WHEEL."

Gartok picks up the stone and stares at it carefully as he rolls it around in his hands. After thoughtful and decisive contemplation, Gartok hurls the stone out the cave door. Pilnor cringes as he hears his creation crash against the rocks below. Gartok raises his hand and pats his son's insect ridden scalp.

"Go help mother with mammoth steaks. Dinner soon."

1985 A.D.

I'm sitting at the desk in my room putting my new Commodore 64 computer through its paces. My father walks by, stops, and peers into my room.

"Whatcha you doing there son?"

"I'm just typing in this new program I read about in Compute! Magazine. It makes my computer sound like a piano! You want to listen?"

"I see…errrr…did you take out the garbage?"

Present Day

Every generation is introduced to something that the older generation never seems to comprehend. I'm sure back when television was first introduced to the masses, the older generation passed it off as another fad or to quote the famous phrase, "It will never catch on." For a while, computers garnered the same feelings from my parents. They had no idea why they were shelling out their hard earned dollars for that TV typewriter way back when. All they knew it was something I wanted and seemed to be reasonably educational. For years, my parents feigned interest as I would wax poetic about the brand new systems and software that were coming out at that time.

"Eight megabytes of RAM memory Mom! Isn't that unbelievable!"

"Yes that sounds fantastic, could you please take out the garbage."

It was a simple life. I had a computer. My parents didn't understand it. They left me alone. Life was good. But then, things began to change.

Computers evolved too quickly. Within a short period of time computers have become an integral part of everyday life. Much like it was necessary to have a toaster in the kitchen, it has become necessary to have a computer in the home. Everyone wanted one and everyone needed one. Including my parents. Now don't get me wrong, I love my parents to death, but the day my father called me up to ask me about purchasing a computer. A cold shiver raced down my spine and the questions began.

"Why do they cost so much?"
"What's a gigabyte?"
"Will I be able to type my letters on it?"

And when finally I was able to set up a computer in their home with an internet connection, the questions increased.

"How do I print?"
"Why isn't it printing?"
"How do you email?"

What happened to the parents I once knew. The strong pioneers, comfortable with the technology that they were familiar with. My mother, who grew up in a single room apartment with 18 brothers and sisters. My father who used to walk uphill to school everyday through 10 feet of snow, both ways! It is my belief that if you're over 50 and you've had little or no experience with a computer, don't get one. Please. Just stick to the technology you're used to. The telephone. The television. Get some more practice programming that VCR. Meanwhile, I'll deal with fact that my father is sending me movie files of horses kicking farmers in the testicles and text messages explaining to me 25 reasons why women are like golf courses.

I've got to take out the garbage.

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