Gutenberg's Bible

The Writer's Almanac informs me that on this day in the year 1452 Johannes Gutenberg finished printing the first section of his revolutionary bible.  More than a decade earlier, he had begun isolating the elements of each letter and punctuation mark (300 shapes in all) to create movable type. 

It's a technology that had begun in China centuries earlier, using porcelain. Gutenberg's type pieces were made of an alloy of lead, tin and antimony — a compound that remained in use for the next 550 years. 

Gutenberg printed around 180 bibles of which less than 50 remain, only 21 of them complete. But his printing press forever changed our technology and our culture. 

"What the world is today, good and bad, it owes to Gutenberg," Mark Twain wrote in 1900. Perhaps a little less true today, but still a statement you can hang your hat on. 

(Illustration and facts from Wikipedia, additional material from The Writer's Almanac)

Of Egrets and Storage

It's a new month and I'm starting it off by cleaning up my i-Phone. This is seldom a task I enter into willingly. Usually a storage crisis sends me into a tailspin and forces me to delete large attachments (often photos I already have but had sent others) or uninstall apps. 

A painful process, indeed. But I remind myself that it's no more than editing: what I've done throughout my career — removing the extraneous. 

But deciding what's extraneous ... ah, that's the rub! 

(What does an egret have to do with i-Phone storage? Not much. It just reminds me of elegant simplicity, something I strive for in my data storage!)

The DNA of Shopping

My Christmas list has morphed from one that was always on paper, even just a few years ago, to one that's mostly in the notes section of my phone. 

This parallels my shopping, which has evolved from mostly brick-and-mortar to well over half online. 

I still scrawl gift ideas on slips of paper which I then tuck into my purse. And I still like to go shopping, to physically enter a store, even if I have to wait a few minutes in line or spend more time than I'd like looking for a price tag.

It's part of the eternal give-and-take of hunting and gathering, a proclivity that I'm convinced is buried deep somewhere in our DNA.

(Not a shopping list, but a shopping district ... this one in Lexington, Kentucky.)

Weightless

I knew that the last day of full-time employment would be a humdinger because it was the one that required technical tasks — and in that I was not mistaken. But as is so often true in life, it unfolded in a way I didn't expect.

It wasn't the "wiping" of the computer, the backup and removal of files, that had me flummoxed. I had been going about that fairly steadily for days. What held me hostage almost to the end was ... the cloud: disentangling my work machine from iMessage and iPhoto and iTunes and all the other i's that seek to unify our lives and terrorize us in the process. Because don't you know that if you remove photos when you are signed into iCloud you will delete them from "all your devices." And when you have more than 17,000 images (yes, dear reader, I am embarrassed to admit that is how many I have), which include the precious first photographs of your sweet grandchildren, even the thought of removal is enough to paralyze one for hours. 

Only I didn't have hours — I had minutes, which were quickly ticking away. Luckily, an Apple Support person talked me down from the ledge, and after 30 minutes on the phone with her, and an hour of two of agony before and after, I was ready for the drive to Crystal City. 

There was a moment yesterday after I had solved these problems, after I had dropped off my computer, monitor and other work gear in a new and near empty office, when I had started driving home along the river, a drive I hadn't taken in almost a year, when I felt positively weightless. And that's what I'll remember. 

Ash-Free

It's an ash-free Ash Wednesday here. Instead of spiritual reading, I've been trying to change a password and perform various other online acrobatics with all the attendant trials of patience that requires. 

Perhaps there is such a thing as a prayer for online patience. There are indeed prayers for calmness in the storm and for patience in times of confusion. I don't see exactly what I'm looking for, though, something like this:

Oh Lord, I know that in the vastness of your creation there are answers to the technological problems that beset me. Fill me with calmness and understanding as I yet again attempt to _____(change my password/check on my order/request information/insert need here). I know that these bits and bytes are but a small part of the marvelous world we inhabit. Help me to put them in perspective as I live a full and meaningful life in the real world. Amen.

20 Years!

I learned early this morning that today is the 20th anniversary of Wikipedia. That I learned so early is noteworthy, I think, a sign of how much I rely on something I once thought was faintly ridiculous. 

A crowd-sourced encyclopedia? What of the scholar laboring in his or her attic (and let's face it, it was usually a "his" back in the day)? What of the World Books lining the shelf? 

Through the years I've learned a little about the standards of Wikipedia, which, though odd, can sometimes be rigorous. Let's just say that if you submit a PR-like entry, they will come after you. 

Plus, I've become lazy. I spent many years doing research in libraries, and I love the older style of knowledge acquisition. But I'll admit, it's pretty amazing to have such a compendium at my fingertips. 

So happy anniversary, Wikipedia! And thank you for your service!

(Photo: Wikipedia! And that's another reason I love them. I can use their photos without fear of copyright infringement.)

Zoom Memorial

Over the weekend a friend and neighbor was memorialized over Zoom. My initial skepticism at this 2020 version of a final send-off melted away in the first few moments when a devoted son — one of five — opened the call, his voice slightly husky from the task at hand. 

There were photo montages of his father as a young man, a proud dad, a world traveler, a loving husband. Each son spoke in his own way, one from his father's garage. And though each had a different mode of expression, in the end, the portrait became clear. 

Here was a family grieving but also celebrating a life well-lived. Here was as much life and music as could be crammed into 60 minutes of screen time. And in a strange way, the screen amplified the presence, made it at once more intimate and expansive. 

I imagine Zoom memorial services are as many and varied as the people they honor. The fact that this one was so touching may have nothing to do with Zoom and everything to do with the man himself. But I'm not ruling out the nature of the event, the fact it came into our living rooms and kitchens, where, without diluting the enormity of the loss, it softened and transformed the sadness. 

A Day's Work

Today I've spent roughly five hours (and counting) on a call with Apple Support. I have installed and uninstalled, saved and unsaved. I've held my phone up to the screen of my computer at the same time that I typed on that computer's keyboard. 

To do this has required multiple plugs and passwords, a backup disc, three computers and a technician who is as calm as she is smart. "Patience is my middle name," she said during our third (fourth?) hour together. I've gotten so used to her voice in my ear that I'm wondering if I can write a blog post without her. 

This is by no means finished. I imagine we will go on long past 5 p.m. But at the end of this I hope to be able to use my new work computer — and, given how long I've spent holding my smart phone up to my computer, be sporting a newly toned set of biceps. 

It's all in a day's work for this most un-tech-savvy of writers ...

(Using a calm picture to soothe frayed nerves ...)

Catching Up

Saturdays are usually for catching up, for buying groceries and running errands, for cleaning the house and doing the laundry. 

Today I'm posting this blog using a new browser, which is a different kind of catching up, the technological kind, one I'm less familiar with and not very good at. The switch is not altogether by choice. It's been progressively more difficult to write posts using the previous interface, and an older browser wasn't helping. 

So now there's a new browser and a new back end for the posting process and ... it's anybody's guess what this will look like once I press publish. 

Technological Wonders

Like many people using one of the oldest templates that Blogspot has (are there any of us left?!), I often feel that I'm skating on thin ice, technology-wise. Some days, everything works perfectly. I log on quickly, answer emails, write this post, get into my work emails and early to-dos and scarcely a half-hour has passed.

Today was not that day. Today I could barely get online, seeing that dreaded buffering wheel go round and round and round. I needed to turn off my machine and reboot the internet booster, but I was waiting on a code that I needed to log on to a site where I build my company's e-newsletter.

The code would only be available if I could log onto the Office 365 site and get into an alternative mailbox. So I waited ... and waited. Eventually I realized that even if I could get online, the code time would have long since expired.

So I turned off the machine, rebooted the booster and — finally — success!

Yes, it's a world of technological wonders. Until it isn't.

Small Tech Victory

Though I envision the week between Christmas and New Year's Day as a black hole of relaxation, a time when I need do nothing but read, write, walk and watch movies, reality does intrude. Yesterday I even had to boot up my work computer — horror of horrors — to check on the old flexible spending account, a time sink if ever there was one.

To do this required the overcoming of several tech challenges, including the export of an Excel document. I was charged up by the fact that I did this without error, a small tech victory that inspired me to attempt others.

If increasing technical complexity is the sea in which we must swim, then small tech victories are the life rafts we must celebrate.

Typographical Tone of Voice

If this post goes according to plan, I may insult you several times. That's because I am, in that old-school, print-based way, using periods at the ends of sentences. (See, I just did it again. And again.)

In Because Internet, Gretchen McCulloch brings the term "typographical tone of voice" to my (somewhat luddite) attention. Exhibit A, she says, is considering all caps to be shouting (which is hardly news to anyone, even luddites). But a more subtle expression of typographical tone of voice is what she calls the "sincerity exclamation point."

Ah yes, I think, this is why I'm using using exclamation points so much despite inwardly chafing at them. This is not due to grammatical sloppiness, but to friendliness and cooperation. When I say "Thanks!" at the end of a business email, I'm merely indicating that, sure, I don't mind editing this piece quickly. I'm happy to do it (even if I'm not).

Periods are another matter. "For people whose linguistic norms are oriented toward the offline world, the most neutral way of separating one utterance from the next is with a dash or a string of dots," McCulloch writes. But for someone whose linguistic orientation is more modern, the line break is the most effective way of separating utterances. In that case, then, the period is extraneous, and perhaps holds other meanings. In fact, it could even be considered passive aggressive.

But don't worry, McCulloch assures us, in formal writing periods are still emotionally neutral. To which she adds this puckish footnote: "Or at least, I sure hope they are, because otherwise you're halfway through a book where I've been passive-aggressive to you the whole time. SORRY."

Hot Spot

I've gotten away so far and so thoroughly that I almost thought I wouldn't be able to get online long enough to write this post. As it is, I will make this one quick because I'm using my phone's "hot spot," and I'm not sure how long it will last.

The little cabin where I've escaped prides itself on lack of connectivity. There's even a cellphone lockbox where you put away the pesky item while you roast marshmallows over the fire and look at the stars.

Alas, though I am not addicted to the internet in general, I have become pretty attached to writing this blog, so I have circumvented the cabin's best intentions and have gone online anyway — but gone online only to extol the pleasures of being away from things, out of the loop, disconnected.

It's ironic ... but true!

Farewell, Express

Yesterday I picked up the Express newspaper offered to me by our Vienna hawker Bobbie. I don't always get this abbreviated, tabloid giveaway version of the Washington Post. But when I don't have the parent paper or something else to read, I pick it up. And I always take it if Bobbie offers it to me. He's a kind soul whose feelings might be hurt if I did not.

But sometimes when I do have the parent paper and Bobbie holds out the Express, I pick it up ... then gently place it on top of the trash can at the entrance to Metro. I don't throw it away — no one has read it yet! — but I do put it up for adoption.

That's what I did yesterday, not even glancing at the headline. Then, on the way home, I saw a copy of Express someone had left behind on the bus. "Hope you enjoy your stinking' phones" said the headline, which caught my eye, then below, the small print: "Add Express to the list of print publications done in by mobile technology. Sadly, this is our final edition."

As you can tell, I'm not an everyday Express reader, but I'm a common-enough one to mourn its passing. There was an irreverence about it, and it was informative, too. Now, another print publication bites the dust, 20 journalists lose their jobs, and a community culture goes away (because Express hawkers drew commuters together).

I'll let Express have the last word here. This is from a small item on its inside front cover:

Nation Shocked! Shocked!
Traditional print news product abruptly goes out of business
In news that scandalized a nation, The Washington Post Express abruptly shut down Thursday, citing falling readership and insufficient revenue. Apparently, everyone riding the D.C. Metro now looks at their phones instead of reading print newspapers. Express editors will miss the newspaper and its readers very much. It has been a pleasure and an honor to provide commuters with this daily dose of this odd news.

Gains and Losses

Over the weekend I started reading about the 50th anniversary of the moon landing, which we will celebrate next month. One of the tributes was in Parade, which bills itself "the most widely read magazine in America."

I couldn't help but notice how thin this most widely read magazine is. And this got me thinking about what we have lost in the 50 years since humans first stepped foot on the moon — in particular the rich print culture that has been slowly dying during the last two (three?) of those decades.

I'm a print girl from way back, and though I quite happily ply my trade in a mostly-web way these days, I miss the heft and gravitas of ink on paper. I miss the smell of it and the feel of it, the weight of it in my hands.

I suppose you could draw a line from rocket technology to the waning of print. After all, the information age was in part launched by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA). But that's not where I'm going with this.

I'm merely musing that our technological gains come with quality-of-life losses. And I don't want us to forget about them.

(A small printing press, from an exhibit at the Museum of the Written Word in May 2013.) 

Happy Global Big Day!

Today is Global Big Day, when hundreds of thousands of birders from the U.S. and around the world list the birds they see and hear on the eBird app designed by the Cornell Ornithology Lab. The data they supply is used to tell people where birds are in real time and also to do cool things like have farmers flood their fields to give wetland-loving birds a place to land.

Using the information supplied by regular birders tramping through woods and fields, binoculars and phones in hand, Cornell has built a citizen science powerhouse that is actually saving the lives of hundreds of thousands perhaps millions of birds every year.

The flooded fields are one example of this. The birders' information feeds a digital map that tracks the travels of migrating species. Knowing that a flock of water birds is heading their way, farmers can flood their fields, giving the birds a temporary wetland in which to land for the night.

This concept originated with a Nature Conservancy scientist who came up with the idea of "renting habitat" instead of buying it. The flooded fields accomplish just that. But it's the eBird app that makes the flooded fields possible.

Wouldn't it be nice if more technology was like this?

(Tufted titmouse photo courtesy Cornell eBird)

Mellow Mueller

Everyone was talking about it, reading it and tweeting about it, but by the time the Mueller Report finally came out yesterday, I just felt fatigued about it. I imagine many of us did.

I perked up a bit this morning, when the banner-headlined Washington Post landed in my driveway. (As is typical for a newspaper reader, I take my news a day old and more digested, thank you very much.) But on the whole, I've been ignoring the media feeding frenzy.

Maybe it's because I'm distracted by the new leaves on the Rose of Sharon bush, or the carpet of petals underneath the Kwanzan cherry.

Or maybe it's because I've been preoccupied with tech problems lately (email issues, Skype for Business issues, RAM issues, even voice recorder issues!).

But whatever has made me mellow about Mueller, I'm grateful for it.

Switching Browsers

Continuing on the tech theme, I write today from the office. It's been many weeks since this was possible, all due to a log-in problem I could have solved much sooner had I just switched browsers.

Switching browsers is often the remedy to the problem at hand. I should know this by now. Is there a stubborn streak at work here? Am I making things more difficult by failing to switch browsers first?

Possibly, but it's unconscious on my part. It's part of being a digital emigre, someone not born to swim in these waters. I may find a solution, eventually, but it will never be an easy one. It's as if my brain circuits won't work that way.

Maybe writing this post will help me remember that before I pull my hair out, before I decide to completely redo my blog (which I hope will happen soon anyway), it's better to take one simple, elegant action — switch browsers.

Calmer Computing

It was a day to rake leaves, plant bulbs, do laundry and prepare the house for visitors later this week. It was also a day to be frustrated by various computer glitches.

There was a new system update with all of its attendant woes, the retrieval of passwords once entered automatically, the held breath that formerly well-oiled systems would start up again.

There was the banishment of junkware called Gilpierro, which slipped onto my machine when I was downloading a schedule from a third party. That took about two hours.

With each snafu I worried that I wouldn't be able to access this blog or my email or the document I'd just been working on. But so far, so good.

I like to think I'm becoming a little saner during times of software distress. One might not notice this by looking at me, but I have a little more faith in the power of machinery than I used to. It's a calmer computing I engage in now.

(The photo doesn't have much to do with computing, but it's a calm scene.)

Creeping Numeralism

It was called the zoning improvement plan, but went by its chipper acronym, Zip. And it wasn't adapted quickly, wrote John Kelly in yesterday's Washington Post. Zip codes met with "pockets of resistance," he said, including from the White House, which omitted "20500" from its official stationery, even though President Lyndon Johnson had ordered federal agencies to start using the five-digit code a month or so earlier, in June 1965.

Americans may have been sick of numbers, Kelly said. Three years earlier they'd had to start including Social Security numbers on their tax returns. That same year, 1962, AT&T introduced "all-number" calling — which put an end to such notable exchanges as BUtterfield 8 and MUrray Hill 6. 

In fact, Kelly reports, there was an "Anti-Digit Dialing League" created to fight "creeping numeralism." 

I wonder what the anti-numeralists would think of life in 2018. Today I created three new passwords, all letter-number-symbol combinations. In the course of doing that I was sent at least four different codes that would expire in minutes or hours. Numbers were texted to me, which I then used to create new letter-number codes. 

As I wrote recently, the world has been heading toward numeralism for at least 400 years. Now we have Zip-plus-four. Put me in the words column, though. I'll fight "creeping numeralism" wherever I find it. 

(Mr. Zip courtesy Wikipedia)