It's back-to-school time in the weather department this week. In an effort to bring you the latest and most accurate information...especially during severe weather season...weather folks are constantly being re-educated in the ways of technology. The company KMBC buys its equipment from has sent us a trainer to get us completely up-to-speed on what all the gadgets can do. It is a very expensive pile of stuff and, naturally, the people spending the money want those of us using the toys to use them to their utmost. Having said all that, let me be clear: I am a dinosaur. I am almost a Luddite. I know that sounds like a kind of flooring used in model homes but it really refers to someone not too crazy about modern technology.

I started doing weather not too long after the days of Velcro suns and Magic Marker cold fronts. (Did you know that there is an entire generation of youngsters that has no idea what you're talking about when you say "Magic Marker?") The first of the fancy-schmancy weather computers arrived about when I did. The goal is to make the graphics look bold and easy to understand. Tell the weather story in an engaging (always a good idea), exciting (even when it's not), and accurate (a relative term, in my personal case) manner. Back in the days of watching The Jetsons, it looked like computers and robots would be making our lives easier...give us a little more time for fun. Of course, that is not the way things are working out. I suspect that even if we all had a Rosie the Robot doing the chores around the house, somehow it would just mean more headaches and work for the human residents. In weather, the more complicated the weather computers get, the more time it takes to put a forecast together. That's where our training comes in.

The trainer is young, tall and thin. All three adjectives make me dislike him. By the way, when I say tall I mean nearly structurally unsound. I warned him many months ago, when the new system was first put in place that I was not well-versed in computer stuff. Well-worst, maybe, but not well-versed. This trainer races through stuff that he assumes I know. I probably didn't impress him with my ability to pull up the computer solitaire game or Jigzone.com--where you can put together puzzles of kitties and puppies and bridges and stuff. He demonstrated how to "trouble-shoot." I've never liked that phrase because it just assumes you are going to have problems. I've decided you could use that hyphenated word to describe my first inclination with a computer: if there is TROUBLE, SHOOT it. Anyway, the trainer said we should use that "trouble-shooting" page rather than "bother" them with our silly questions. Forget that old adage about there being no stupid questions. I get the strong sense that, to the trainer, all questions are stupid and, in my case, so is the questioner. A big part of the new computer systems you see weather folks using on TV now, is the ability of appearing to put a big blue H, for high pressure, or big red L, for low pressure on the map with the touch of a finger. Or, actually draw the fronts on with our fingers, too. Basically, it is a combination of John Madden's telestrator, minus the "DOINKS!" and "BAMM!" with the Magic Drawing Board from Captain Kangaroo. Some of the folks in the offices where TV decisions are made, believe that all you viewers will like all of us better if we can do tricks like those. Forget Willard Scott, we want David Copperfield! It won't be long and they'll have us doing weather as we escape from a tank filled with jello hanging high above the Country Club Plaza, ala David Blaine. (It is now, obviously, required by the Magician's Union, that you must be named David and date models to be a true man of mystery.)

In the old days, that little clicker you see weather people holding in their hands had one button. You pressed it and the maps you made earlier, appeared. Now, the clicker has four buttons and a switch on top. You must also be able to rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time for maximum results. You are supposed to be able to press one button to make something appear, another to set it in place and another to move to the next graphic. The fourth one is for clearing away the mess you just made by not pressing the other three in the proper order. If you press them all at the same time, NORAD is alerted. It could be worse. I've seen some stations that have the weather expert hold something in each hand to get through the weathercast. I'm waiting for the day they get handed a bulletin and have to hold it between their knees. Anyway, the trainer was very disappointed in me yesterday because I've not mastered all these buttons. There are a lot of reasons for this: I'm not too bright. I'm not too coordinated. I'm not much for actually practicing. (Just ask my old piano teachers.) Anyway, the trainer smacked me in the head with a virtual ruler. A real ruler would work better but he's not of that era.

It seems that, as a society, we are losing what little patience and attention-span we once had. As a little boy, I remember Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Rogers and the lady on Romper Room all taking their time with things. Being quiet and still were okay now and then. Today, on the tube, everything, including the weather, has to be jumping and moving and filled with color and excitement, even if there is none. (I watched a news show the other day that had Senator Joe Biden being interviewed in one part of the screen, scenes from the war in another, weather maps in yet another quadrant and, I'm almost certain, a game of PONG in the remaining screen space. I think the Senator was talking about the war...or the weather...or PONG.) We may well be dangerously close to what author and social commentator Neil Postman calls Amusing Ourselves to Death.

I accept the fact that some of the weather technology we use is great. It even saves lives in true severe weather situations but I hope we never get to the point that the gadgets are more important than the presenter. Maybe that's what The Jetson's Rosie will really become: a weatherperson! Add to this the prospect of High-Definition TV, and, for old-fashioned broadcasters like me, the end may really be near. Put my ugly mug on High-Def, and I look like the dark side of the moon. Wrinkles become craters. I have a little bumpy thing on my forehead. It isn't all that noticeable but, with the extra precise look of High-Def, it will become something you'll need a Sherpa to climb.

So, if the future gets the best of me...or worst of me, as the case may be...let me say it's been fun and interesting and an honor to come into your homes and.... Wait a minute! I just thought of the way they'll get rid of me when the time comes! They will simply add another button to the weather clicker, then, have the trainer urge me (DEMAND, really) to use it immediately to enhance my forecast. The second I press it: poof. I'll be gone.

Later, in the darkened streets someone will gasp: "Soylent Green is...old, washed-up weathermen!"