|Ummm . . . less speller extraordinary|
Our second son is, in many ways, like his father.
It's a good thing.
One of the most notable is his ability to spell.
It's a gift.
I should mention, here, that I don't have this gift.
Enough said . . .
It was the early 80's.
My brother, Blair, was working on his Bachelor's degree in Engineering.
We had a computer.
Our computer was in our eight-year-old second son, Erik's room.
Blair would work there by the light of a single lamp.
We would hear the clicking of the keys late into the night.
Erik was supposed to be sleeping.
Occasionally, the keyboard sounds would stop.
Then I would hear the brief sound of voices.
Then the clicking would resume.
Finally, Erik came out of the room, needing a drink of water.
I was tidying the kitchen.
He moved close to me.
"Mom," he whispered. "Uncle Blair can't spell."
Ah. The occasional sound of voices was explained.
Blair was consulting with his spell-checker.
It must have worked.
He went on to achieve a doctorate in Engineering.
Okay, I admit that today's sophisticated spell-checker programs are probably more efficient.
And more easily accessible.
And don't need their sleep.
But none of those programs have personality.
And certainly aren't as cute.
Progress isn't always . . . ummm . . . progress.