The other day during a FirstNews commercial break, co-anchor Jere Gish mentioned his son Jack's technical prowess. I'm not going to steal Jere's thunder, blog-wise. If he doesn't tell you the story on his blog, e-mail him and insist. Also, while you're at it, tell him you think I'm much better looking than he is. The only reason Jere was speaking to me at all, was because Donna Pitman was not in the studio. As some of you may know, I am only allowed to speak to the big-shot anchors when they first speak to me...even then, I am contractually required to avert my eyes. But, I bitterly digress. The point is Jack Gish is a gifted navigator on the information super highway. Certainly, in many cases...well, my case...the kids are better surfers than the parents. When it comes to hanging ten on-line, my own children are The Beach Boys. I'm more like The Captain minus Tennille.

I really have a love-hate relationship with the computer. There are times I am truly grateful for all the information at my fingertips. For example, the other day I was watching an old movie and realized I knew next-to-nothing about the actor Joel McCrea. When the movie ended, I rushed upstairs and logged on. After Googling, which sounds like something that happens when you try to eat spaghetti through a straw, "Joel McCrea" I learned all kinds of great things about this unsung actor. For me, this was a major deal on a couple levels. First of all, I was able to fill more of my dwindling brain-space with material that will most likely not come in handy very often. Secondly, I had successfully negotiated my way to an answer using this strange, new device called, I believe, the "INTER-TUBE-WEB."

Back in olden times, when people used words like "olden," I would've gone to a couple of other sources to learn about Joel McCrea. Initially, I would have tried to look him up in our Encyclopedia Britannica. Sometimes that first word is spelled Encyclopaedia or with some little character that combines the "a" and "e." Frankly, it seems like putting on airs. In fact, in an effort to maintain my common-ness, I used to spell it ensyklowpeedeeah. I did that until a teacher informed me I was plenty common enough without purposely misspelling werds...I mean, words. My father had purchased the set back in 1973 from a door-to-door salesman. We got the whole hog: One 12 volume collection with short definitions and explanations; an additional 24 books giving more detailed information on certain subjects; a guide-book that the salesman insisted could be used to replicate a college course in just about any subject (sadly, even at the Encyclopedia Britannica Home-Course Homecoming Dance, I couldn't get a date), a multi-volume collection called "Annals of America" with important historical writings from the Mayflower through Vietnam, and, last but not least, a giant Bible, bound in white leatherette and filled with ornate lettering, great maps and lots of colorful illustrations. The salesman needed a team of oxen to drag the entire "library" to our door. I still have the whole package at home, and, I'm proud to say, all of it still gets used. As wonderfully comprehensive as the Encyclopedia Britannica, 1973, was, and is, I admit that, as a kid, I sort of envied my friends that had the World Book, because it was a little more "user-friendly," to use a new-fangled phrase for an old-fashioned source. Also, the World Book had lots of colorful photographs, as opposed to the Britannica which seemed determined to avoid anything that wasn't a shade of gray. It was so serious, in fact, that I actually started to talk like John Houseman. (I'll pause here, so some of you can go to Wikipedia and find out who John Houseman was....)

Actually, the first encyclopedia set I remember around our house was called "ChildCraft" and was bound in reddish-orange stuff. By the time I came along, my brothers had added several new definitions to the margins, as well as their own artistic impressions of historical figures. Until I was a teenager, I thought all famous people had crossed-eyes, moustaches and skin conditions. We were also missing the following letters D, K, T and WXYZ. So, until I started school I knew very little about dogs, kiwis, Tazmania, Woodrow Wilson, xylophones, yellow-dog Democrats or zithers.

If the big books, at home, didn't have the info, I would head down to the Tripp Memorial Library which my brothers had told me was named after a patron who, with his nose in a book, had taken a header down the concrete stairs outside. (I wasn't much of a speller, so the extra "p" didn't tipp me offf.) Our librarian was right out of a movie. Her name was Alice Graff and she was lovingly dedicated to the library, the books and the importance of reading. I loved checking out books just to watch her carefully and precisely print the due date on the card, in her very recognizable hand-writing. (Today, you don't even have the chance to converse with the librarian most of the time...so much automation.) Miss Graff, never Ms., because that was an abbreviation for manuscript back then, would occasionally allow me to go into the basement of the library and look through old magazines and newspapers. I felt like a true explorer and will never forget her kindness in letting me do that. Frankly, finding the information I was looking for had a far more satisfying feeling back then, because it required some effort. Miss Graff was a small woman but could be intimidating if she caught you talking a little too loud or trying to find the naughty pictures in the dictionary...not that I ever did either one. She made avid readers out of thousands of kids over her years behind that big wooden desk at the front door. We didn't need any of those walk-through book detectors because Miss Graff could smell a book that hadn't been officially checked out. She was one of our town's true quiet heroes and has a park named for her because of it. (You can stay in the park for free for the first two weeks. After that, it's a dime a day in overdue charges. )

So, I will continue to be happy that I can jump on the computer and get what I want to know in seconds but I'll also forever miss the days of huge encyclopedias and tiny librarians. As Joel McCrea might say "Thanks, Miss Graff. You taught me volumes."