Time of death: 6 a.m. Monday, Sept. 29
It was obvious death was imminent.
The bank of lights flickered, sometimes going out completely, only to flicker back on again briefly.
They slowly went out, one by one, leaving only one light that would gently pulse a moment, glow steadily, turn red, turn off, then turn back on.
“I can’t bear this anymore,” I said aloud, and pulled the plug.
My dog, who was in the room with me, was so overwhelmed by emotion that he yawned and wandered off to the kitchen in search of crumbs. Comfort food, I thought.
I finally had to admit that my combination modem and router had finally transmitted its last baud of information.
I looked at the debris around my feet — the detritus of my attempts to do the electronic equivalent of CPR. Cords laid tangled on the floor; an extension cord snaked its way across the floor to a different electrical outlet.
I had spent a good share of Sunday attempting to revive my dying modem, and succeeded in bringing it back enough time to look up troubleshooting tips on the web and order a new one. I was hoping to nurse the old one long enough so that I could maintain service until the new one arrived.
But Monday morning, I had to admit it was a fruitless effort.
I was bereft. What would I do with myself? From the earliest times of dial-up Internet, in the early 1990s, my morning custom has been to start a pot of coffee and then sip a couple of cups while I browsed the Internet, checking e-mail, getting the weather forecast, catching up on the news of the day.
What would I do if I couldn’t find out who was booked into jail over the weekend, who died, who was now “following” me on Pinterest? (By the way don’t follow me on Pinterest or Twitter or any of those. I don’t go anywhere).
How would I do the daily crossword or Sudoku, which helps stimulate my brain while I wait for the caffeine to kick in?
I slumped in my office chair, staring at my toes.
Then I thought of my niece.
She recently announced that she was discontinuing her Facebook account. About a week after she did so, I asked her how life was after Facebook.
“It’s great,” she responded. “I have time to do other things. Like read.”
Like read.
Remembering that, I grabbed the Sunday paper that was lying by the recliner, shook out the variety section, and went to work on the New York Times crossword as I sipped from my coffee mug.
This was just like life before the Internet, when I subscribed to two daily papers and spent my morning coffee time reading both and working the crossword puzzles, listening to the radio in the background so I could get the weather forecast and daily death notices.
But still … despite the nostalgia, I was looking forward to the arrival of my new modem — my umbilical cord to the world at large. It’s supposed to come today, and I’m looking forward to an evening untangling cords, cursing my attempts to activate it and, eventually, getting back on the Internet. I can’t wait.
