I got my first computer in the early 1990's only because I had a business, and I bought it as a piece of office equipment. I didn't like it much, and still did all my correspondence on an IBM Selectric typewriter, and still took my mail to the post office. The computer was as annoying and necessary as the fax machine and the answering machine. I was also just getting untethered from the phone cord on my desk by having an extra new fangled cordless phone that allowed me to walk and talk all around my studio.
My assistant mainly used my computer, and she would coax me over to hunt and peck on it once in awhile. Another dear employee loved the sound of the printer, because he thought it sounded like an ATM machine, and when we printed out proposals and invoices he said it was the sound of money being made.
Later in the 1990's I met Alberto, and he truly was my guide into the world of computers. He lived in the Silicon Valley in California, where I joined him for our life together. He was like so many young brainiacs and engineer/inventors there, and had a start up electronics business in his garage. All the guys knew each other, and yes a couple of guys named Steve and Woz were on his radar. Stanford was in their back yard so to speak, and tons of kids were emerging with engineering degrees and hitting the streets and hanging out tinkering in their garage workshops.
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| Woz and Steve |
My cordless phone and my fax machine in New York became the conduit to our romance. We wrote and faxed many love letters to one another, and I remember laying on the floor in my living room in New York at three in the morning talking to Alberto when he got home from a tango dance in San Francisco. Those conversations lasted hours, and I often fell asleep with the phone in my hand, and awoke in the morning finding a fax from Alberto saying "Good morning my love".
I had a clunker of a PC that I brought with me from New York, and one day Alberto surprised me with a new desktop computer. I wasn't too happy, because I had just gotten used to mine. Since I didn't pack my assistant in the carton along with the computer, I was forced to use it, and the more I used it, the more I liked it. Alberto always wants to update my computers, and I always want to hang on to them, not completely feeling the need to live in a disposable society. I'm as ass sometimes. New and better tools make our lives better.
Alberto already had several computers, and he was doing a freelance project having something to do with old school software that took him a couple of years to complete. By the time the project was done, technology had moved on, Alberto had turned 50, and he felt his time had passed him by as a viable computer engineer. So we began our company Planet Tango.
Computers were a huge part of Planet Tango (then and now). We wrote and published a magazine about Argentine tango called 'El Firulete", on the computer. A fledgling thing called the internet started. I, as usual, was nonplussed, while Alberto was an avid user of anything new that came long. He taught himself how to write code, and how to use every new tech tool that became available.
He was very excited about something called Apple. I thought it was the Beatles record label. He loved this young guy Steve talking about putting a computer in every home. I said why? Unless you had a home office to run a business like we did, why on earth would we want an ugly computer in our homes? And I thought the internet was a gimmick for the computer geeks to play with.
Alberto is a visionary, and he is so excited by people with genius, vision, and a sense of equality. He created our tango careers using the internet, and paved the way for others to do the same. He always kept us current in a way that I finally realized and appreciate. I might keep us up to date by the way we dress, or the way I decorate, but he keeps us on trend tech-wise. There are many of Alberto's inventions in the attic, stuff he was making in his Silicon Valley garage up the road from the two Steves.
When we signed our book deal to write "Gotta Tango" we were in New York, and Alberto marched me to J&R Music World to buy my first laptop, my first Mac, an iBook. At first I was all fidgety about it, but of course it became my favorite tool in my tool box. He did the same with digital cameras, getting me one, and encouraging me to use it. He was the one who found out about web-logs, and said I needed to write one. What? Blogs? What kind of word its that? Who would want to read it? Why would I want to scribble on some internet journal like a sad sack art student crying in her coffee at Starbucks?
Alberto still upgrades his computer and tech equipment every couple of years. He does a lot with that stuff. He makes movies, he writes, he communicates, he keeps up with the world. But I was the one who gave him the iPhone.
Once Alberto was settled into the hospital and stable, in the induced coma they put him in, I realized I needed a phone with international service. Oh yes, my tech ass-backwards attitude applies to cell phones too. I carry a tiny old phone with a cracked screen from Wal-Mart. Until recently I would accumulate thousands of minutes that I never used.
Our host took me to the mall to buy a new phone and get some minutes. In the back of my mind I remembered something Alberto said about not having an iPhone, that everyone else could afford the iPhone, blah, blah, blah. I of course saw no need, because a phone is a phone. Anyway, none of the phones I was looking were user friendly to me. I have faltering eyesight, and all the small buttons on small phones aggravate me. Finally I asked our host if there was someplace I could get an iPhone. I remember it being big, and everyone loving how easy it is to use. And I remembered how much Alberto loves everything Apple.
So off we go to the Canadian Apple Store. As usual, it's like a party in there. I am in a grief coma, walking around like a zombie. I am also old in a sea of young. Very old at this very low point. I don't know what I am doing, so I find a sales person, who chirps that yes they have iPhones, but I have to call to make an appointment to buy one, probably able to get it in a week or so. My mind screams SAY WHAAAAAAAAT????!!!! An appointment to buy a phone????????
Say what you want, but the Apple employee is trained to give good customer service. I didn't scream. I didn't shout. I quietly explained my situation, and asked if an exception could please be made. He actually looked me in the eyes, as a person, and gently steered me to the purchase counter, ahead of everyone in line, and a young lady from behind the counter rang up the iPhone.
The iPhone was instantly easy to use. My host, and then Alberto's children who arrived to their father's bedside shortly after, gave me tutorials. Apparently the new iPhone had some capabilities that the kids' iPhones didn't have, and the new one became our command center.
On that phone, in the hands of Alberto's kids, two tech savvy brilliant young things, we engineered our way home. I can truly say without that iPhone, things would have been very different, and not to our advantage.
Oh yes, when I bought the iPhone I made a little prayer. I asked that Alberto live and recover, and that when he recovered I would make a gift of the iPhone to him.
Near the end of his hospital stay in Canada, Alberto was still a little gaga. I gave Alberto the iPhone. His smile was cherubic. He had a new toy to play with, and an iPhone at that! By the way, in the hospital, as Alberto mentally emerged from his ordeal, all he wanted was his computer, his Mac.
There was no internet wireless service for patients in the hospital (only secured service for work stations for doctors and nurses), but still, we gave him his computer. Ever so gingerly he would hunt and peck. He couldn't believe we couldn't get a signal from somewhere. Even with a cloudy mind, and slow reflexes, Alberto was recovering, and playing with the Mac helped him connect all the dots again.
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| Alberto with his Mac in Canada nearly a year ago - using it truly helped bring back his mind and physical coordination |
Why this long story? Yesterday, Alberto came up behind me, and put his arms around me and sobbed. I turned around, so concerned, and asked him what was wrong. Through tears, he said that Steve Jobs had died. I wrapped my arms around him, and tried to console him. Then we watched the television news coverage, and the internet coverage.
Yes indeed, the young visionary had truly brought the computer and a whole creative computer lifestyle, and all the other fabulous products he invented that first sprung from that garage in the Silicon Valley, into all of our homes, enriching our lives in ways we take for granted, as mundane as flipping on a light switch.
Rest in peace dear Steve Jobs. Thank you. Gone too soon like the brightest burning comet.
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