Technological advancements invade environment

He can just think about a plot for a book, and presto, it’s number one on the best seller lists. As for me, the closest I’ll ever come to a best seller list is to buy a book listed on one.

The author’s note accompanying John Grisham’s recent best seller, “The Broker,” shows that he and I are writers with something in common: “These books are still written on a 13-year-old word processor. When it stutters, as it seems to do more and more, I literally hold my breath. When it finally quits, I’m probably done, too.”

I don’t know if John (since we have so much in common, I call him John) refers to an actual word processor, or one as a part of a computer.

The weekly exploits of Rusty Saber are churned out on a 1995 Toshiba laptop.

When I tell people that I use a 10-year-old computer, they look at me as if I said I live in a house without electricity and indoor plumbing. Imagine the looks if they knew I bypass Windows 95 in my computer to use a 1984 vintage word processing program in MS-DOS.

Why such prehistoric paraphernalia? That’s easy: Like my pal John, I write with equipment with which I am comfortable. John might be done when his 13-year-old machine is done; I might follow suit when my 10-year-old laptop goes over the hill.

Actually, Grisham’s note was to explain the poetic license he had taken with some of the electronic transactions described in the book. He isn’t an anti-computer person. While some may be shocked, I don’t feel like a resident of a Third World country because I stick with the comfortable in lieu of every brand new bells-and-whistles-laden gizmo on the market.

Besides, my ancient computer turns out readable Rusty Saber manuscripts as well as the latest state-of-the-art doodad.

I’m aware that today’s high-tech enthusiasts want the very latest computer gadgets and cell phones. I don’t keep up to date with everything new, but I know it’s likely that the latest high-tech apparatus will be obsolete soon after it hits the stores. A new and improved version is always ready to make an appearance. If it’s a bit faster and more convenient, it will dispatch the prevailing must-have product into the junkyard.

I have a cellular phone. It works fine: I can receive and make phone calls. As hard as it may be to believe, my phone is not a camera; it neither takes, sends or receives pictures nor does it send and receive e-mail or text messages. Why, I can’t even play games on it. It’s a telephone, not a computer or information and recreational center.

Because I have an ancient computer doesn’t mean I’m anti-high-tech. I enjoy many of the benefits of life made possible by technology. The recent summer heat spell caused me to think of life before high-tech generated air-conditioned houses and cars (see next week’s Rusty Saber). However, I don’t saturate myself with every new thingamajig that comes along, and I am apprehensive about the problems created by our national throw-away mind set that continually renders last year’s technology obsolete.

The August 2005 issue of Smithsonian magazine features sobering photos of vast numbers of discarded keyboards, computer circuit boards and cell phones. According to the article, 60 million PC’s are buried in landfills. Between 2004 and 2009, 250 million computers will become obsolete. Furthermore, Americans annually discard 100 million cell phones. The Smithsonian points out that these products contain heavy toxic metals that can pollute soil and water when crushed and buried and send toxic wastes into the air when burned.

But for me and my pal, John Grisham, our ancient word processors don’t pollute - not even a little bit.

Joe McAdoo is former chairman of the communication department at Drury University.

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