Glassware 95...

I sometimes hate computers.  I had a nasty little surprise yesterday morning when I sat down at my desk to work - a seriously annoying spyware program called Antivir Solution - which wouldn't let me do anything but buy their anti-spyware software had taken over my PC.  And there was no way I was about to buy anything from anyone who dared invade my computer - so I spent the better part of the day and evening ridding my system of the offending files.  I think the main problem was that when I got rid of the network router and corresponding programs and hardwired my internet connection, I  had no firewall.  After a lot of  swearing, name-calling and general aggravation, I was finally able to get online and download the free anti-virus/anti-spyware software from my internet provider and start scanning my system.  I was still scanning at seven o'clock last night.  So, instead of just sitting and staring at the screen while muttering naughty words under my breath, I got out a box of old photos and fell in.

Which brings me to Glassware 95...

This is my dear old friend, Larry.  I'll have to write a longer story about Larry someday because he was truly an interesting individual.  He passed away a few years ago and I still miss him.  Larry was always good for a laugh and the best part was, Larry could even laugh at himself.  In 1995, Larry was 86, and for a time, he was obsessed with finding out exactly how a computer worked.  I tried to explain it to him, using the analogy of a car and its component parts but the only thing Larry really gleaned from that example was the erroneous belief that Bill Gates had started out as a car mechanic, a story he shared with people quite frequently.  One day he arrived at my office in a complete tizzy.  "I have to ask you something serious," he said as he sat down in his favorite chair with a can of cold Diet Pepsi (much like the photo above).  "What's on your mind?"  I asked, wondering what could possibly be serious at the ripe old age of eighty-six.  He leaned forward and said, "Do you think I need this Glassware 95?"  My mind was a total blank - what could he possibly mean?  Sometimes conversations with Larry started out this way.  "What are you talking about?" I asked, still racking my brain.  "It's all over the TV," he said. "Glassware 95 - get it before it's too late, make a reservation or some damn thing like that.  If you think I need it, tell me and I'll order it today.  The way they're going on about it, it sounds life-threatening if you don't have it."  Then it hit me - Larry meant Windows 95 - the latest and greatest operating system from his good friend and auto mechanic, Bill Gates.  I couldn't help myself - I started to laugh.  It was contagious; Larry started to laugh, too.  When we had calmed down enough to speak, I said, "You mean, Windows 95, Larry."  He looked puzzled.  "Isn't that what I said?"  I shook my head.  "No, honey, you said Glassware 95."  He thought for a moment and then said, "Well, do I need Windows 95?"  I shook my head and replied, "No - it's a computer program and you don't even have a computer."  With that, Larry threw back his head and laughed his signature laugh, normally reserved for only the funniest of punch lines - unbridled mirth with no noise.  And seeing (although not hearing) Larry's joyful laugh, in my book, was funnier than any story he ever told me.