It was a dark and stormy night. . . .no, wait, that's Snoopy and the Red Baron. I discovered America at 11:57 p.m. July 15, 1943 in a little town in central Oklahoma called Chickasha. I already had seven brothers and sisters, one of whom was married and two of whom were gallivanting about somewhere in the Pacific ( I think a place called Guadal Canal was mentioned, among others). Time passed. The brothers came home. I grew up -- very spoiled by all but one sister who started our long relationship by biting me (in fairness to her, she had been "the baby" for six years, and we're friends now). I married, had children (in that order -- a unique concept these days), they grew up, got married, had kids (also in that order) and life was good. I moved to Arizona in 1988. I love everything about Arizona but the heat, and I tolerate that in order to have the winters. Snow can be beautiful, but we didn't have much snow in Oklahoma. We had sleet. We had ice. Once we had frozen pipes for 8 days -- I mean the city lines froze! And year-round, the incessant, depressing wind. So Arizona is fine, except at Christmastime. I still have not become accustomed to seeing tinsel wrapped around the trunks of palm trees. I never shop till the last minute. What do you mean it's Christmas -- it's 85 degrees out there! I am 58 years old and still working for a living. I am controller for two oak furniture stores, named rather appropriately "The Oak Store" in Phoenix and Mesa (AZ) and for the associated distribution center (fancy name for "warehouse"). I usually work at least six days a week, then come home and work on projects for the Arizona SIDS Alliance and the Alliance of Grandparents, A Support in Tragedy (AGAST). And while I'm doing all that, I am also fielding questions from my siblings and friends about their computers. These people think I am so smart! The AZ SIDS Alliance and AGAST are important to me because in 1995 my grandson Connor died from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS), which is a leading cause of death of infants between one month and one year of age. After spending three years trying to come to grips with my grief, my daughter put me in touch with both of these groups and I have learned to channel my energy into helping others who also travel this dark valley. One of the things I really want to do (I have done a little of it on my memorial links page) is provide a place where other bereaved grandparents can post their stories. Doing Connor's page was such a healing experience for me and I'd like to help others who have walked this path. Connor is the Missing Piece of my life, so I will soon be building a site at missing-piece.net specifically for other grandparents and their Missing Pieces. Watch for it. Now let me bore you with the rest of my story. My siblings and my friends (and even some of my co-workers) think I am a computer guru; however, my children are another story. In 1974, when my son was 11, he came home from school one day and said, "Mom, someday people will have computers in their homes!" Well, I was a fairly intelligent college graduate, and besides that I had actually SEEN a computer, so I said, "Travis, honey, that's silly! You are letting your imagination run away with itself, and besides, what would we DO with a computer? It would be useless -- all those cards and all that noise!"
In 1987 my husband bought a VIC 20 -- did you ever see one of those? It
was a keyboard/computer combination that you hooked up to a television;
it had a tape drive -- as in CASSETTE tape. We used it for "packet
radio" (we were amateur radio operators and packet is the radio wave
equivalent of modem communications). There was also a tiny little
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