Thursday, my systems librarian was visiting from the Upstate to assist with several projects that needed attention. We sat down at a computer workstation on which I have several applications loaded. The computer has always been slow, but it seemed much slower than usual.

Mary, my systems librarian, knows a lot more about the inner workings of computers and computer terminology than I do, so I depend on her to teach me new things. When she observed how slowly the applications loaded, she commented, “Oh, I hope this isn’t a 256 MB machine. That’s too little memory from which to run these two applications.”

A 256 MB (megabyte) computer used to be a large machine. It no longer is. It’s considered a dinosaur, especially with the more information-intensive programs that are loaded onto computers. Computers now boast one, two and three gigs of memory. Simply put, these newer machines hold a lot more memory and operate at warp speed.

Needless to say, when Mary explored the memory capacity of the workstation in question, she hung her head when the memory capacity appeared: 256 MB.

“No wonder you can’t access these two programs quickly. No wonder you have to wait forever for them to work,” she exclaimed. “You need at least 1 gig and preferably two to run these two programs simultaneously.”

As I hung my head in shame, I realized Mary had touched on what seems to be wrong with my brain these days. I have a 256 MB brain in a 3 gig world!

My brain programs are much more difficult to pull up these days and when they do load, they take so much time that I’m not sure they’re ever going to get to an operational point. At the grocery store, I stand for what seems like hours in front of a product that I have purchased thousands of times. I know what the container looks like, but I can’t remember the name of the product to save my life. People stare at me as I try to talk my memory into reminding me what it is I’m looking for. I give up, walk three other aisles, and then, wham, the memory kicks in and I haul boogie back to the appropriate aisle before my memory shuts down again.

Problem is, the same thing happens on the next aisle and I’m standing there talking to myself again. People stare.

“Well,” I think to myself, “at least I’m talking to myself and not to some idiot-looking device on my ear!” People with challenged memory have to point fingers at others to make themselves feel better!

Mary, dear, sweet Mary taught me something about computers, but she taught me something even more important about myself.

I’m doomed to live the rest of my life in a 256 MB world, while the rest of creation swarms around me at 3 gigs. So if I see you and I have a blank stare on my face, it’s my 256 MB memory trying desperately to dig deep into the recesses of what’s left of my brain to remember your name, where I might know you from and why you might be speaking to me in the first place.

Please don’t be offended. I do it to my husband all the time.

T&D Columnist Harris C. Murray may be reached by e-mail at writeharris1955@yahoo.com.

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