Two, I had hoped to avoid the Au-thorized Computer Repair Shop's $750-an-hour charge. But Authorized Computer Repairpersons have been assiduously trained to spot every conceivable computer-related problem, so you know that although you could buy three new computers for the amount it costs to fix your broken one, they will find and correct the problem and in no more than 10 days to three weeks your machine will be singing like Satchmo. Unfortunately, when I took my computer in and explained the problem, the Author-ized Computer Repairperson said, "Are you sure? I've never heard of that. I'm not sure that's even possible."

It's not easy being premodern in a post-modern world.

Despite all this, every now and again I take a notion to venture into that mysterious, confounding place. Most recently, my wife and I went there together. We bought a cell phone.

What with the monthly fee, the Anytime-Except-When-You-Actually-Want-To Talk minutes, and the Roaming-Outside-The-Southeast-Corner-of-Your-Bedroom charges, we now pay roughly $4,370 a month for phone service. But the slightly higher phone bill is offset by the conven-ience of being able to call someone whenever we have nothing to say.

Sometimes I call my wife.

"Jessica," I say.

"Jim?" she replies.

She answers with a question because she's not entirely sure it's me. That's because I sound like a person who is talking and gargling at the same time. Which, as Jessica knows, is not something I do anymore.

It's OK that she doesn't know if it's me because I usually have to go almost immediately, anyway. "M- ZSHHH batt…s KSZIT low."

"Honey, are you gargling?"

To the question of our age, I want to just say, No. I cannot hear you now. I cannot hear you on a plow. I cannot hear you stern to bow. I cannot hear you anywhere, anyhow.