Commentary: Technology may be advancing but I’d rather stay put

“Last one out of the 20th century, turn off the lights!”

I’ve heard that to get a ship inside a bottle, you have to build the ship from inside the bottle. Seems awfully hard.

Why bother?

Throughout our married life, in addition to the seven children we raised together, Lee and I tended to “adopt” young people who were especially bright and lovable.

One of them is our computer guru, Brian.

He has been an invaluable support since 2004, retrieving information and repairing, updating and replacing our computers and modems.

Now he even does odd jobs for me, like finding a speaker for my new television. (I couldn’t understand why I needed a separate speaker to understand the sound on my new television.)

So today, when Brian finished with the speaker, he raised a subject I have been resisting all the years I have known him: Switching Internet providers.

Let it be known that until the end of my “senior adolescent years” (age 45 to 60), I was into learning new things.

I was the one who set the clocks on the digital devices. I was the one who learned how to tape and record television shows. I was the one who explained over and over to Lee how the Cox remote turned the TV and cable on and off.

I was quickly into word processing on a computer years before the Internet and email. I had a cell phone hard wired into my car before any of my friends.

And then I said, Stop. No more new technology. I haven’t the time to learn it.

My friend Marian convinced me to get a portable cell phone, but I only used it to call Lee to tell him I was headed home. For about 20 years, I had an AT&T plan that cost me $20 a month, and I only charged the phone if I thought I might use it.

When Lee died, my kids insisted I get an iPhone. I protested that instead of a $20 plan and an uncharged phone, I would have a $70 plan and an uncharged phone.

Despite my daughters’ cajoling, that’s what happened.

So Brian raised the subject I was even less willing to consider: “transitioning to a new server.”

What he meant was abandon AOL, the only server I’d ever used, abandon the only email address I’d ever had. I put my hands over my ears.

It seemed like a change of subject when he asked me if I had a website. I actually have three websites — one for my name and two for books.

My son Tim told me I needed a website for the book I published in 2013, and he taught me how to accomplish that on GoDaddy.com. He spent four hours on the phone with me while I did it.

“Three websites,” he said. “You know, you could consolidate those sites with a parent-type site and have contacts from them forwarded to one server, something more professional-sounding than AOL.com. AOL is a dinosaur. The rest of the world is moving on without you, Liz.”

“Did I ever tell you why I quit guitar lessons?” I asked him.

“I didn’t know you’d quit guitar,” he said.

“I quit because the teacher wanted me to move faster than I wanted to,” I explained. “I wanted to strum ‘Ghostriders in the Sky,” and he wanted me to do all this fancy fingering. Ruined it for me. That’s where you are headed, Brian.”

“No, Liz! You can do this. It’s easier than you think!”

I watched Brian, and his magic fingering, as he keyed his way to GoDaddy and tended to business.

I kept shaking my head. “What you’re trying to do, Brian — instead of building the ship inside the bottle — is push the ship into the bottle, and it doesn’t want to go!”

Brian laughed at the metaphor.

“I’ve been pushing it for over 10 years, Liz. I think it’s just about ready to join the flotilla with the rest of us.”

Four hours later, I had a new website. I had a new email address. I had a basic understanding of how the new server works, and I admitted to Brian that it’s relatively easy, way more functional and a really good idea.

Once I get my head inside that bottle, along with the rest of me, I suppose I will start using my cell phone.

Before Brian left, he checked the shower head, which he’d overheard the housekeeper tell me was leaking. He said the problem is in the valve.

Tomorrow I call the plumber. He never tries to teach me anything.

LIZ SWIERTZ NEWMAN lives in Corona del Mar.