I have thought a lot about the boxes lately.
The first and above all is the Cedar treasure box that I built for our five-year-old grandson. It is finally done – at least I decided to call it done – after working intermittently on the thing for several months.
This project involved major challenges. The main one was that I have no training or experience in the art of wood labor. My carpentry capacities are roughly tied with those of Wile E. Coyote. When I look at the box, all I can see are its imperfections.
Then there was the question of design. Not being particularly creative, I went with a box form for the box. It is not as fancy or complex as a piece of extremely sculpted chippendal furniture, which I had imagined at the start of this business. After several frustrating failures, I finally had to accept that I do not have the capacity to achieve such a feat or the patience to acquire the necessary skills.
So, I settled on what is essentially a three -dimensional rectangle. The only thing that could be simpler would be a board.
The second type of box I was dealing with was much more boring and infinitely more frightening.
I recently decided to take the plunge and buy a new personal computer. This meant to transfer all the things of my old computer to the news, which has proven approximately as stressful and complicated as to carry out a brain transplant in DIY.
When I bought my old computer over 10 years ago, I tried to do so to the future by adding as much calculation power as on the economic level. I gradually learned to trust my computer with everything. This black box contains all my life, from my writings to emails, from longtime friends to the videos of our children when they were young.
But the powers decreed to end the support of my operating system. It’s a shame because I need all the support I can get. In any case, my business could become more and more vulnerable to the wicked armed with keyboards. I do not want my computer to be taken hostage by a resident of the stained nicotine basement in Timbuktu.
I bit the ball and bought a new machine, opting for both power as economically doable.
Before starting the process of what was essentially the cyber exchange of body fluids, I took precautions. All my files have been saved on the cloud – whatever that is – and I copied everything on an external hard drive. All while I felt like I was urging on a digital stiff rope. Without a net.
Jerry Nelson
There is a scene from the first film Jurassic Park where the computer guy, played by Samuel L. Jackson, must reset the computer computer system. Life or death is at stake. “Wait for your butts!” Map the character of Jackson as he launches the crucial switch.
This is exactly what I felt when I hit the power button for the first time on my new computer. It was a relief when it started and immediately took care of the task of downloading updates. This work has dragged long enough for me to soothe my nervous nerves with several cups of strong coffee.
The computer then asked if he had to recover the things I had put in the cloud. Yes please!
My wallpaper photo appeared on the screen and familiar office icons started to appear. It seemed that the transplant process would be rapid and almost painless.
But wait. Where are all my writings? Where are my old emails and email addresses?
A cold and plunged panic ball has formed in my intestine. These things cannot all have gone, right?
It took a little excavation, but I discovered that the new computer had usefully (or at least thought) renamed the file containing my writings and put the file in a new place. And my old emails and email addresses have reappeared as if by magic when I connected to the online version of my email program.
Little by little, with enough time, I can learn to trust this new machine. In the meantime, I will be fanatical to save everything on an external hard drive.
The two boxes that I recently thought of have to do with storage. Our grandson will probably use his treasure to store things like pretty rocks and interesting bugs. I am sure that the contents of his box will change over time.
But anyway, I hope he keeps in mind that the most precious treasure will be the time he spends with his friends and family – whatever their imperfections.
Jerry’s book, “Dear County Agent Guy”, is found www.workman.com and in bookshops nationwide.