IN WHICH WE ANTICIPATE THE WORLD OF COMPUTERS

When I came across this piece in April 2018, I wrote in the introduction that I didn't remember I had written it. Because there were a lot of things I didn't remember--even in 2018--I wasn't terribly alarmed. But, then, as I read the story it began to feel familiar and comfortable, my memory kicked in, and I remembered it was inspired by a newspaper article that, at the time--1972 or 1973, seemed completely fanciful. A computer! HA!!

Today, I realize this tale about computers gone bad is older than Michael. Michael was definitely short-changed when it came to THS MRS. Not that we weren't thinking about the possibilities of a Michael, but the care and feeding of a newly-purchased and run-down farm began taking more and more time, and THS MRS began fading slowly into the past. By July of 1974, she was gone. Never to rise again. I've tried to keep her honest despite how painful some of these sentences are, how corny many of the quotes are, and how proud of her I was at the time. This one was no exception...

"Evidently, fearing the worst from various militant women's liberation groups, the men of a small computer firm in Michigan recently huddled in their conference room. Emerging at last, they announced to the world a new computer for the home.

'Yes, Ma'am...oops, Ms,' they gleefully announced. 'We are going to liberate the little housewife. We have devised a computer that will order groceries, keep track of the family budget and bank balance, store medical records, and even tell the central vacuum system when to start sucking up. We just want you little ladies to know we're on your side.'

Despite their glad tidings, I figure the following events will take place about three days after we install our family computer.

At 8:30 a.m., the doorbell rings. I answer it and find the local grocery warehouse delivery man. 'Got your groceries, Mrs. Staggs. How's that for fast service?'

'Fantastic! I haven't even ordered anything yet."

'You must have,' he answers. 'I've got your computer printout right here. Number 46798651. Right?'

'Right. Well, let's see what you have. By the way,' I ask, 'when did you start delivering groceries in a semi-truck?'

'Mrs. Staggs,' he beamed. 'We got that the minute you ordered 427 cases of Kleenex.''

'427 CASES OF KLEENEX!' I screeched. 'I know I've got three kids, but that's pushing it a bit, don't you think?'

'Oh,' that's not all,' he said. 'I've got 72 cases of chili con carne here too, plus 46 cases of baking soda.'

'Well, with 72 cases of chili, we're going to need 46 cases of baking soda. Look! You've got to take it back. I'm sorry, but I can't use any of these things.'

'Mrs. Staggs--I can't take it back." (He's not beaming now, nor is he smiling.) 'Your computer ordered it. It's already deducted from your bank balance and posted to your family budget. There's no turning back now.'

In the midst of finding space for the Kleenex in the garage, living room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom, the telephone rings. 'Mrs. Staggs,' a voice says, 'I'm sorry to tell you this, but we're being forced to cancel your family's life and health insurance.'

'Oh, come on now,' I asnwered. 'You know we've hardly been sick and we've never died. There must be some mistake.'

'Well, Ma'am,' the voice continued, 'we just got your most recent computer reading and what with your husband's heart condition, your malaria, and your son's four car accidents, we can't take the risk. You know the insurance game, Ma'am. We've got to eat, too.'

'I don't have a son,' I scream. 'I've got three daughters under the age of ten. I've never been south of Miami, and just yesterday the doctor told my husband his heart was as sound as a 1958 dollar.'

'Listen!' the disembodied voice was a bit testy now. 'Are you Number 46798651?

'Well...yes.'

'You'd better get to a doctor fast before your condition gets worse, and your husband needs to hop on that crazy kid of yours about those cars. You know what's the matter with kids today...Nobody really tells 'em what the score is.'

'But...', but I'm too late. The voice is gone. As I'm searching for the insurance policies I hear a faint click. "Oh, NO!  I'm not ready yet!'

But, ready or not, the central vacuum system was on its way. Before I could fight my way to the computer, the vacuum had disposed of three table lamps, a chair, two pillows, and a year's subscription of  'National Geographic.' Thank God the kids were in school or I'd have had to start all over in that department.

Within fifteen minutes, the computer is packed and addressed to Gloria Steinem. I just don't think I'm ready to be liberated quite yet...at least by a computer. Perhaps, though, a good maid..."

 I find that I'm a little frightened about the way I cited all of these gutsy old Women's Libbers again and again in these THS MRS pieces. It's obvious I was taken by the women's movement, as well as all the other things going on during the late '60s and early '70s. As always, I followed them closely, knew the primary players, but still just sat home watching it all evolve on TV. Kind of like right now with Donald Trump and his interesting ways of governing. I'll fuss, and I have written a few Blogs but, generally, I sit and watch it play out. I'm a Libra, you know, and we cherish balance, order and equality. We don't make waves.

September 14, 2019