Een’s Neighborhood

Crap.

Oh, well - I've forgotten the model numbers.  This is what happens when you take the time at a party to learn someone's name - you learn their name and make the whole evening special but you sacrifice some other random piece of information.  In this case, model numbers.

As far as I can tell, I used a PDP-10:

Vs-dec-pdp-10

(Taken by Ed Thelen of material owned by Computer History Museum under the non-commercial rule.)

Followed shortly by a VAX 11/780:

Vax11-780

Talk about good times.  I had access to these only because I was friends with the system administrator at school.  He set me up (I think I basically whined a lot until he did) with a user name and password.  My first user name and therefore email address ever was "tomato". I don't know why I chose that.  He said "What do you want for a user name?" and I spouted out "Tomato".  So I was known as "tomato" for a few years.  Whenever I logged in I'd hear "Hey, there is a Tomato on the system!".  I had email and was able to send/receive with a few friends that were online also - mostly right there at the school.

A few years ago a customer was walking through my company and he was talking about how he had made all of his money in the "internet" and how he had his first email address in 1988.  That's how he started his conversation.  It was like "How did you get rich in the internet?" and his first statement was "I had my first email address in 1988".  Obviously there was something else involved because I had my first email address in 1983 and I didn't make it big in the internet.  Of course, the internet wasn't really there yet so much back then.  I think there was ARPANET, etc - but I'm not going to go into all of that.

I didn't do anything really constructive on either of these systems at the time besides read newsgroups.  Later, maybe around 1987 I had to have a "real" account because I had a class on the VAX so the "tomato" account went away and I moved to something like just "wilso_d" or something else mundane.  At that point I was taking an operating system class and we had to write our own OS in something like C or Pascal.  It's all vague at this point, but none-the-less, this was my moment to both PDP and VAX systems.  Both were pretty good considering the time frame.  All text-based as I recall with dumb-terminals.  I think the world really was faster before the advent of fancy graphical user interfaces (aka Windows).

You can read more about the VAX here.

What's the longest you've ever waited in line?

Isn't life just like one long line? 

Something to think about. 

Or not.

Is it "Write A Blog Every Day For A Month" again?  Because I'm already 10 behind.  So here is a post from about two years ago where I said "Oh, I'm going to post about every computer I've ever used!" and then I stopped, right after this one.  Lord Kalvan has been posting about a bunch of old computers and it reminded me of my original intent.

So here goes - I'm going to take a few posts to talk about the different computers I've used.  I'll start with the very first one.  This is the Commodore CBM-8032.  This came out around 1980 and had a massive 32k of RAM.  It had an 80 column by 25 line green monochrome screen.  The CPU was a 6502 2Mhz.

CBM_8032

This was owned by the science department at my high school.  1980 (10th grade for me) was well before the school had computer labs, etc.  This was the ONLY computer in the school and we found it in the back of a store room where it wasn't being used. 

It was beautiful.  I used this from 1980 through 1982.

The base model used tapes, but the school actually had a dual floppy drive for it.  I sent a letter to Commodore to see if they could send me any information on it, and they sent me a copy of their Commodore magazine.  It was cool because it was filled with source code you could key in and also had instructions on how to do things with the system - like print.  Yeah, this was before all of the magic we rely on today.  Internet?  Ha!  I don't think so.

My first program was in BASIC and said something like:

10 PRINT "DEWITTE"
20 GOTO 10

and I'd run it... and run it.. and run it...  There were three of us who started hanging around the back of the science room every chance we had - before school, after school, during lunch.  We'd write programs and key in games and play them.  One I recall the most is StarTrek (where you were a big E (for enterprise) and it moves around looking out for K (Klingons).  Ah, good times, good times.

I would send a note to Commodore and when I received a reply, it would come from a different address.  I thought something was up - they kept moving.  Eventually I think they went away, but that wasn't until after the Vic-20, Commodore 64, and the Amiga.  The only one of these I seriously used was the Amiga, but that's for another post.

I used to sit in the back of the classroom and just write mindless programs and listen to Supertramp on a cassette boom-box that I built (yes, built - and sad really because I don't have a single picture of it).

I don't like admitting it (who does?) but I'm not feelin' the NaNoWriMo this year.  I know, I know. I'm supposed to "just keep writing anyway".  It's the exercise in making yourself write, not necessarily the story that comes out of it.  I know this and yet, I've just decided not to do it this year. 

I will, however, fiddle around with this story idea a bit more, here and there.  I think there's something to it (and hey, I DO have an ending for it!) and maybe it's more that I think it deserves more time/effort than a violent 30-day writing gorge can give it.  Or, that's a hoity-toity excuse.

I do feel shame, and I do feel guilt. I read the cheering-on emails I get from Chris Baty and others and for a moment or two I think, hey, I'm only a week behind. Maybe....?

And then I think, don't be silly.

And then I think... well.... ..... maybe?

Like most of the country, I have sat by horrified and deeply saddened by the incident that took place at Ft. Hood last week.  I have been further saddened by how Major Hasan has been portrayed as some fundamentalist Muslim on a religious mission of some sorts and the ensuing death threats against Muslims in the Ft. Hood area.  Whatever the reasons motivating Maj. Hasan, of which I am sure there were many, none of them justify further killing or threats of any kind.  Hate begets hate.  If we all, or even a few of us, respond to this incident by targeting Muslims because one of them made a horrendous decision not in line with their faith, the chasm will grow and more horrible incidents will ensue.  As Ghandi said, an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.

So, I am writing to propose a way to refocus those energies and to respond to the situation with love.  Show our troops some love and get yourself educated on S.1963 - the Caregivers and Veterans Omnibus Health Services Act of 2009.  The goal of the bill is to increase mental health services to veterans.  Our veterans are suffering tremendously and the VA, and the rest of the country for that matter, are woefully ill-equipped to manage the severity of the problem.  We are sending these people out on multiple deployments in a war zone unlike any other before.  Whatever your political take on the wars, I think we can all agree that we need to take care of our veterans.  I support this bill, but encourage everyone to do their own homework on it.

If you discover you support it, please call Senator Coburn's office and ask him to remove the hold from the bill.  He alone is preventing the bill from leaving committee and reaching the Senate floor for a vote.  The Committee on Veterans' Affairs has a statement about it here.  Senator Coburn has his rebuttal  here.  If you believe the bill should be supported, please call your senators and ask them to support it.  If you don't know how to contact your senators, go here.

I have hesitated for some time to post this because too often well-intentioned posts about how to offer support to our troops get thread-jacked by those wanting to debate the validity of the wars.  I am the daughter of a veteran who served in two wars and I am proud of my dad's service.  I am also a flaming liberal who vehemently opposes the wars.  If I can separate the soldier from the action, then you can, too, and I respectfully ask you to do so here.  If you want to say anything hateful, discriminatory, or negative, please make your own post.  I don't post publicly very often because it's easier to deal with my small community.  But, our troops are part of the larger community and we ALL need to come together to support them.  It isn't enough to put a ribbon on the back of your car and wear an American flag pin.  The heart of our country is action and I am asking you to take some positive action today to help support our troops and turn the events at Ft. Hood into a forceful, positive response from the country in support of our combat veterans.  Many thanks.

Last night I had a dream, the second of a new theme. In this dream my grandma (who died of cancer in 1983) has come back to life or reappeared from wherever she'd been hiding. I conjectured perhaps she had been in an induced coma all this time, until they finally cured her. And when she comes back home, my grandpa gets his mind back. This is the new recurring theme. Grandpa Frank has alzheimer's and every time I see him there's a bit less of him there. But in my dream world he goes back to his old grumpy yet good-humored and almost entirely sane self. When grandma comes home.

Their house is the childhood home base that my dreams seem to seek out by default. I never feel safe or happy there in my dreams. There are often problems with the plumbing and the lock on the bathroom door. The main plot point in this particular dream is the appearance of Adolf, one of grandma's long-dead cats. I look out the kitchen window and see him sitting in the middle of the dirt yard where grandpa now keeps his backhoe. I recognize his crooked Hitler mustache. He is bigger and rounder than any non-dream housecat. I announce to grandma that Adolf came home and open the door for him. He rushes inside out of the bitter cold and I sit on the kitchen floor where he uncharacteristically snuggles up on my lap (he was a weird, unfriendly cat). I realize with  low-level concern that he is way older than cats are supposed to live. I ask grandma, "When was Adolf born?" She tells me, "45 weeks after your cousin." Even in dream math I realize this is simply not possible. My cousin was born in 1973.... which would make this dream cat over 30 years old. This reasoning launches me toward consciousness, where grandma is still dead and grandpa will never be sane again.

Another theme often found in my dreams: Moving in with my mom in some unfamiliar place that always has complex architecture and more rooms than one would think. The last dream like this was last week, and she and I had moved into an apartment complex much like the one I live in now. In this dream the multitude of rooms we share are spread over two units on opposite sides of the hall (and yet it is still somehow one apartment). It dawns on me that if we divide the space it could be almost like having my own apartment, and I go down the hall to suggest this plan. I find mom has gone insane and is making a variety of loud cat noises. This is not altogether improbable in real life. I try to talk to her quietly and rationally, but she continues to make cat noises. There are a bunch of young women neighbors who come over to help her (wearing fuzzy slippers and pink bathrobes). I decide I can be of no help and lock myself in the other apartment.

ah, man, I've missed my little ibook-- chris got it working again just last night and then was off to work super-early this morning, so here I lie, having my old type-in-bed time once more. an indeterminate brain is confronted by the opportunity...

honestly, I've felt a bit adrift without the tether of words composed here-- facebook brings something else entirely-- reconnections, semi-connections, a superficial sort of webbing, but webbing nonetheless-- it's brought me back into some form of contact with more than one lost friend, for which I'm enormously grateful-- but the writing medium is altogether different, requiring by custom if not strict technical limitiation (as twitter) a tendency of hyper-abbreviation. this tenor is most surely the coin of the realm more generally, but as an expressive form it does little for real mulling through-- my milieu. yes, I know, it isn't as if vox (or for that matter wordpress, blogger or, heck, my trusty paper journal) has gone away, only myself that has elected to neglect the form-- the medium itself remains available throughout my various distractions.

and to what do these distractions amount? little coherent cumulatively, I fear. there's me, always inclining to weigh and measure. recently here and there been torturing myself for no good reason with google searches for people I no longer need any connection with-- wretched, idle hands. I know better. well, at least the killing curiosity is soon exhausted with lack of any relevance, but it's a waste of energy. and other wastes as well-- time and self spent merely watching video, tuning out, dialling down the day. then there's been some good reading (margaret atwood-- and attending her gorgeous many-voiced book launch event downtown on friday). a weekend full of sleep, fighting off one of the many seasonal bugs flying around. glorious golden autumn days. car repairs etcetera.

adrift. diffuse. in need of locating a likely thread to stitch it all into some sense.

one thing tho: we've begun to plan weddinging for 2010-- in our own idiosyncratic way, with sites of celebration in chicago and northern michigan-- we've started sketching it out for ourselves, what's wanted, what's not wanted, how to accommodate the needs versus desires of those we love, how to make something authentic and real and delicious and right for ourselves, to relinquish any mar from the past's damaged expectations-- to begin anew, rightly and brilliantly, for ourselves. 

I think the thing that haunts me the most about my trip to New York back in June are these:

Oobject_15_housing_projects_from_hell_coney_island_0905_small

Giant, monolithic housing projects.  On the train from Manhattan to Brooklyn, they dot the landscape.  One after another after another.  Sometimes, in big groups.  It's one of the most depressing things I've ever seen, and somehow, this is acceptable in the United States.  I understand low-income housing is shitty, but this seriously gives me the chills ever time I see it.

I'm also really curious about them.  What are the people like who live there?  How many people live their entire lives in these?  The next time I'm in New York, I want to photograph the projects.  Now, I don't want to get too too close, but I'm thinking that I can get some pretty good shots from train platforms and such.  I especially like this photo because of its Holga-ness.  It makes it look even worse.  Coney Island looks pretty dingy on its own, but this photo succeeds in making it look even worse.

How many rappers are from these housing projects?  Hmm.

In my search for acceptable photos, I came across this site (which is where I snagged this photo from):

Depressing Housing Projects

Now if I could only manage to develop the photos from my last New York trip...    

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