My father was born in January of 1900, just missing the 1800s. I don't know if he ever thought about missing the mark by just 23 days. I doubt that it ever entered his mind—as a father with ten kids, he had other things to contend with.
But there was something else to think about at the turn of the century in 2000. The entire world was consumed with the idea that as the clock struck midnight, our computers would fail. Some predicted they would actually explode or do some kind of internal damage and we would all have to buy new ones. Worst of all, we would lose our valuable data.
Large companies, especially banks and other financial institutions, spent billions and billions of dollars trying to protect their businesses. Computer gurus and companies made tons of money offering advice, over something I think they knew little about.
As the new year approached, I wondered what to do with my computers. Experts were telling us that we should shut them off and completely unplug them on New Year's Eve. Even then, they said, there was no guarantee they would survive.
My husband and I planned a New Year's Eve party that year. We gathered a group of about 20 people who would play dominoes until near midnight. As I worked on getting ready for that party, I went to my office and looked at my computers. As I stood there thinking about them, I decided I would defy the experts.
Our guests arrived and we started to play dominoes and eat snacks, all the time talking about the new century. We speculated how it would or would not affect our lives and our thought and memories about the soon-to-be previous century. About 11:30, as people were snacking, I went to my computers, booted them up full blast and left the room. I was convinced nothing would happen. I thought the billions of dollars spent on the frantic world-wide protection was a waste of money.
Just before midnight, we and our guests went outside to take a picture. Everyone was excited and there were many smiles and good wishes all around. I kept my ears tuned to the house—there was no explosion—no fire—no thunder and lightning of any kind.
Our guests went back inside to finish the snacks, and I went back to my office to survey the damage. My computers were still there, still brightly lit up. I checked the time and date on the computer desktops and found they were just as they should be.
I smiled, said a silent "Thank you, Lord," and went to get in the food line, knowing I had overcome the first hurdle in the new century.
But just between you and me, I would have been devastated if I had been wrong.
(Kay Hively is a historian, author and former editor, reporter and columnist for the Neosho Daily News and Neosho Post.)
No comments:
Post a Comment