Number 295 - December 2007

The Analog Dialog
by E.M. Hazell
I am not fond of numbers. Math, though vitally necessary for survival, has never been my favorite subject. I have been told that my lack of enthusiasm for numbers has something to do with the undeniable fact that I am a woman and, as they say, from Venus. Men, it is said, are from Mars. The inner child in me tells me I am from the second star to the right in the constellation Orion. Grandmama simply ignores those thoughts in my brain. She always felt that I was given to frequent flights of fancy. The grand old dame is waiting for the real problem that brings me to my own private little solar system in my own private little swamp. This one particular reason landed in my mailbox in the real world. The letter was curt and to the point. The company in charge of my telephone travels informs me that my own, private little cell phone that has always worked and never complained, will cease to exist as of July31, 2007. In more rude and realistic terms, AT&T is going to pull the plug on the basis that my little cell phone is an analog item to be replaced by a digital item. AT&T doesn't give a hoot whether I like it or not. It's bye-bye analog and hello digital. What really bothers me is that I never took the trouble to understand what analog was. And now analog is on its way out, one more dinosaur doomed for extinction.    Like so many times before, I turn to Gerry for enlightenment. If it has to do with numbers, Gerry knows it exceedingly well. He explains, "The analog is a wave length, nothing more or less than part of the electromagnetic spectrum."    I listen carefully and try hard not to sidetrack on this conversation. Gerry doesn't like it when my mind heads in the wrong direction. He carefully explains the intricate details of waves; not my kind of waves, but radio waves having to do with resistors, capacitors and diodes. My stepfather, who created our first radio from all kinds of metal matter, would have appreciated Gerry. I have a vague memory of a conversation about radio waves.    My family used to gather around that radio and listen to the Black Sender. That was one radio wave forbidden in Hitler's Third Reich. I loved it when they all gathered to listen to the radio. It meant that I was turned loose, allowed to roam the streets with the rest of my friends.    I did listen to a program called Wunsch Konzert (Songs by Request). That was a program where soldiers requested favorite songs for the folks they had left behind. That was my first encounter with the analog. I failed to commit concepts of analog to memory, but I still remember most of the songs.	Gerry explains patiently how the people who created the analog cell phone were aware of the fact that a perfect part could not be manufactured. It appears that my little cell phone was given a tolerance number, "tolerance" meaning the degree of perfection. Items with a number close to 1 were reserved for the high-priced market. Once that tolerance number slipped to 20 or below, well, Radio Shack offers them for sale, cheap. And what was the difference between analog and digital? Gerry explains that in simple terms as well. It involved only the numbers 1 and 0. Nothing big about that; it's either on or off, like a switch. In other words, we have progressed from waves to switches. My computer runs on the same principle. My poor little cell phone might have been on the downhill slide and, like the old grey mare, might not have been as good as it used to be. But it could be coaxed to one performance or another. Not so with my computer. Gerry was right about that. It's either on or off, nothing in between. I think about that when the broadcast news informs me about a computer glitch that keeps the astronauts from conversing with home base, not to mention the glitch that grounded a large number of national and international flights, 120 to be exact. That one was impressive, to see all those planes parked on the tarmac. They weren't moving, because the computer said NO. On, Off; Yes, No. How simple can it get? Alas, for me it's still another learning hurdle.    I have more sympathy for my friend Alexandra, who has developed a dislike for all those newfangled contraptions that go with daily life, like remotes to turn on part of what you are remotely viewing, and still other remotes to help the remotes.    In the final analysis, it's not the number as much as the language that goes with all those new technical improvements. I still recall my shock when Kalam said he had fried the motherboard, and that was years ago. It sounded so obscene.    Progress keeps right on marching, and if you're not careful, it'll march right over you. I suppose I could sidestep the whole thing and refuse to progress. Grandmama shakes her head when it comes to that. As long as I live, I will have to progress. To progress is to learn. What makes it so tough is that learning requires an act of will. My friend Bev Watson once told me that living requires learning and that we learn until we die. It is that kind of living that ties us to eternity.    Copyright (C) 2002-2007 Interactive Computer Owners Network All Rights Reserved
Number 295 - December 2007