As most of you know, I don't normally like to post off-topic messages
(although this is my second today!). So please forgive me, I was just
trying to provide a little humor.
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Dear Jenny,
Ann Landers wouldn't print this. I have nowhere else to turn. I have to
get the word out. Warn other parents. I must be rambling on. Let me try
and explain.
It's about my son, Billy. He's always been a good, normal ten-year-old boy.
Well, last spring we at down after dinner to select a summer camp for Billy.
We sorted through the camp brochures. Here were the usual camps with
swimming, canoeing, games, singing by the campfire, you know. There were
sports camps and specialty camps for weight reduction, music, military camps
and camps that specialized in Tibetan knot tying. We tried to talk him into
Camp Winnepoopoo. It's where he went last year (he made an adorable picture
out of painted pinto beans and macaroni). Billy would have none of it.
Billy pulled a brochure out of his pocket. It was for a COMPUTER CAMP! We
should have put our foot down right there, if only we had known. He left
three weeks ago. I don't know what's happened. He's changed. I can't
explain it. See for yourself. These are some of my little Billy's letters.
Dear Mom,
The kids are dorky nerds. The food stinks. The computers are the only good
part. We're learning how to program. Late at night is the best time to
program, so they let us stay up.
Love, Billy.
+++++
Dear Mom,
Camp is O.K. Last night we had pizza in the middle of the night. We all
get to choose what we want to drink. I drink Classic Coke. By the way, can
you make Szechuan food? I'm getting used to it now. Gotta go, it's time
for the flowchart class.
Love, Billy.
P.S. This is written on a word processor. Pretty swell, huh? It's spell
checked, too.
+++++
Dear Mom,
Don't worry. We do regular camp stuff. We told ghost stories by the glow
of the green computer screens. It was real neat. I don't have much of a
tan 'cause we don't go outside very often. You can't see the computer
screen in the sunlight anyway. That wimp camp I went to last year fed us
weird food too. Lay off, Mom. I'm okay, really.
Love, Billy.
+++++
Dear Mom,
I'm fine. I'm sleeping enough. I'm eating enough. This is the best camp
ever. We scared the counselor with some phony worm code. It was real
funny. He got mad and yelled. Frederick says it's okay. Can you send more
money? I spent mine on a pocket protector and a box of blank diskettes.
I've got to chip in on the phone bill. Did you know that you can talk to
people on a computer? Give my regards to Dad.
Love, Billy.
+++++
Dear Mother,
Forget the money for the telephone. We've got a way to not pay. Sorry I
haven't written. I've been learning a lot. I'm real good at getting onto
any computer in the country. It's really easy! I got into the university's
in less than fifteen minutes. Frederick did it in five; he's going to show
me how. Frederick is my bunk partner. He's really smart. He says that I
shouldn't call myself Billy anymore. So, I'm not.
Signed, Bill.
+++++
Dear Mother,
How nice of you to come up on Parents Day. Why'd you get so upset? I haven't
gained that much weight. The glasses aren't real. Everybody wears them. I
was trying to fit in. Believe me, the tape on them is cool. I thought that
you'd be proud of my program. After all, I've made some money on it. A
publisher is sending a check for $30,000. Anyway, I've paid for the next
six weeks of camp. I won't be home until late August.
Regards, Bill.
+++++
Mother,
Stop treating me like a child. True...physically I am only ten years old.
It was silly of you to try to kidnap me. Do not try again. Remember, I can
make your life miserable (i.e., the bank, credit bureau, and government
computers). I am not kidding. O.K.? I won't write again, and this is your
only warning. The emotions of this interpersonal communication drain me.
Sincerely, Bill.
+++++
See what I mean? It's been two weeks since I've heard from my little boy.
What can I do, Jenny? I know that it's probably too late to save my little
Billy. But, if by printing these letters you can save JUST ONE CHILD from a
life of programming, please, I beg of you to do so.
Thank you very much,
Sally Gates, Concerned Parent
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| Michael P. Smith | | |
| Sr. Systems Programmer (__) |/|
| The Hertz Corporation [log in to unmask] (work) |/
| Oklahoma City, OK [log in to unmask] (personal) |
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The thoughts, views and expressions contained in this message are those
of Michael P. Smith, and do not necessarily reflect those of the Hertz
Corporation. To reply via email, remove the .xx from email address.
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