Don't want to say yes, can't say no

I can't say no to America Online.

I'd like to, but the folks who carry my e-mail back and forth give me only two choices: Now or later.

And so I'm playing a hold-out game. Each time I start to leave the Internet, I get the message: "An AOL software update is now available. Would you like to install it now?"

I would click on "no," except there is no "no." There's only an "install now" or "install later." So I keep clicking on "install later," knowing that eventually I'll get tired of saying "later" and click on "install now."

I tremble to think what that might do.

I like AOL. If I just leave it alone, it does its job. It conveys my columns to newspaper clients and to friends who want to read it even though their local newspapers don't have the decency to carry it.

It conveys my family photos to the kids and grandkids, and it brings their photos to me. It allows me to do all kinds of research quickly and conveniently. And it keeps the communication lines open to family and old friends in Horse Creek Valley and elsewhere in Aiken County.

But every now and then, AOL, in the manner of most high-tech services I use, decides that excellence isn't good enough, and it tries to add extra features that I don't want and don't need.

One time I downloaded its latest version and it messed up my whole e-mail system. I had to go through my computer and eliminate everything that had anything to do with AOL, then re-install a cleaned-up version AOL provided.

I repeatedly refused to download a new tool bar (the old one served nicely) until it finally went away. The last download I did left my service functioning OK, although when I log on I get a message that reads "connected, not signed-on," followed by "not responding," then by "connected, signed-on," followed by the familiar, "You've got mail."

It nullifies to some extent the fast broadband service I receive through Charter Communications. It's stressful, but if I wait long enough I get online.

I've been subjected to enough stress adjusting to the new Windows Vista operating system, which replaces the old reliable Windows XP.

I still don't fully understand Vista, and it's been several months since it came into my life via a much-needed new computer.

I got in the present mess when I tried to download some software that would enable me to receive some kind of exotic e-mail a client of mine was trying to send me. In the process, I clicked the wrong button and within seconds my old reliable Microsoft Word disappeared from my system.

My computer was dead in the water. Instead of shelling out a bundle for new Microsoft Word software, I decided it was about time to get a new computer anyway.

The new computer was a jewel, with lots more memory and more places to plug in more accessories. But it came with Microsoft Vista. The first thing I discovered was that my almost-new scanner wouldn't work with Vista. I asked the manufacturer whether it had a driver that would take care of the problem. Nope. The only solution was to buy a new scanner. The new one looked almost exactly like the old one, but it knew how to talk Vista.

The new AOL update comes with this caveat: "Note to Vista users: By clicking 'yes, install now,' you may be prompted to elevate your user status or enter your computer's administrator password to continue with this update."

I don't know why my user status (whatever that is) needs elevating, and I'd have to guess at my administrator password. So I click on "install later," and the only thing that gets elevated is my blood pressure.

I come now to my old friend, Microsoft Word, which has been supplanted by something known as "Microsoft Office Word."

I've been using Microsoft Word ever since I started writing stuff on my personal computer. Every new computer I bought had an upgraded version, and I made the transition seamlessly until Microsoft introduced Microsoft Office Word with Vista.

It substituted icons for words (I read English, not hieroglyphics), and enormously complicated such simple tasks as formatting paragraphs, setting margins and choosing font sizes.

It adds extra steps to the process of typing a document and moving it into the folder (we used to call them directories) where I want it.

I'll master the new system one of these days - about the time my present computer needs replacing and the computer designers have figured out ways to complicate them even further.

The young folks seem to navigate this restless sea of technology with no sweat. I find myself wanting to yell "halt!" to the high-tech geniuses.

Just leave things the way they are for those of us who are happy with the old ways. I have a new sympathy for my older newspaper colleagues who chose to retire back in the '70s rather than adapt to the electric typewriters that were replacing the old manuals. I happily adapted to the IBM Selectric and then to the computer keyboard. But after nearly 55 years of writing, I'm tired of adjusting.

Some time around the end of the 19th century, someone proposed that the U.S. patent office be closed because everything we could possible use had already been invented.

The next president might want to dust off that proposal as a budget-cutting measure, particularly for the branch of the patent office that deals with computers and stuff.

Should John McCain take up that cause, he might get the poll numbers to start moving in his direction again.

Readers may write Gene Owens at 317 Braeburn Drive, Anderson SC, or e-mail him at WadesDixieco@AOL.com.

Gene Owens is a retired newspaper editor and columnist who was graduated from Graniteville High School and now lives in Anderson.