I once described myself, in the memorable phrase of a tattoo artist of my acquaintance, as the last man to get fire. "Fire?" I might have asked when noticing that my neighbors were lighting their caves and cooking their enormous prehistoric rodents with newly discovered flames. "Who needs it?"

I held out like a stubborn tribesman against so-called advances such as microwave ovens, compact disc players, and dishwashers. Even­tually, though, I succumbed. Which makes me a late-adopter, not a never­-adopter. Regarding those terms, I should point out that I have no idea what I am talking about. I haven't studied the lingo of modern marketing, so I could be completely wrong about what it is that I am. But I did some research on that newfangled cyberspace dealie, the Internet? And there they were, late- and never-adopters. I think it means that I would have gotten fire after the price came down and I was sure it wasn't a fad.

The house we bought a year and a half ago came with a microwave oven. So unless I wanted to go to the trouble of unhinging the thing and carting it off to wherever unwanted appliances go, I now had adopted that. At least my teenage son was happy. He saw the microwave and recognized it as a chance for our family to finally move into the 20th century. Of course, we are living well into the 21st. As I say, I like to take things slow, a century at a time.

After everybody in at least the First and Second Worlds had a CD player, I finally decided that the derned things were here to stay. I bought one, too. I kept my records, though, and my record player. They can move their fancy gadgets into my life all they want, but I'll be darned if they're gonna git me to use 'em.

Take, for example, the dishwasher. Yes sir, this house came with one of those contraptions, too, just like the microwave. But I don't use it. What's the point? You only have to wash the dishes before you put 'em in. Then, if you don't run it right away, you can't find your spoons.