A few months ago,
I was reading the newspaper when I came across the headline about an internet
security guru, Daniel Kaminsky, who unfortunately passed away at the age of 42.
For some reason my curiosity was piqued, so I googled the name to find out more
about him. It seems that Mr. Kaminsky was responsible for detecting and
identifying weaknesses in computer security to the point that the list of his
accomplishments is so impressive that I can’t even understand it. His illustrious
career began around the age of four, when he taught himself how to code using a
computer that his father bought him from Radio Shack. Unlike many precocious
youths, who are happy to fiddle around in the privacy of their own homes, Mr.
Kaminsky apparently subscribed to the Star Trek motto, “Where no man has ever
gone before.”
When Daniel was 11
years old, his mother received a call from a government security administrator
informing her that her son had hacked into a military website. The
administrator, in his inimitable wisdom, threatened to cut off the family’s
internet access. His mother, who clearly was not impressed, threatened to take
out a full-page ad in the San Francisco Chronicle publicizing the fact
that her 11-year-old son was able to infiltrate a military website. A
compromise was reached. A three-day time-out from the internet was imposed for
young Daniel. This was probably the first and last time-out ever imposed by the
military.
Now, while most of
us are cheering on Daniel’s mother, we are probably thanking our lucky stars
that our children are not hacking into military websites. While I second that
emotion, I do have to say that I appreciate the fact that my children seem to
have been born with a sixth sense for navigating the ways of the world with
which I have little to no experience.
Usually, my
technology support team, aka my children, play a minor role in my everyday
life, for example, the infrequent times when I get a new phone, need to use a
kiosk somewhere or order something on Amazon. Basically, these are all
situations I could handle on my own (except for the new phone). It just takes
them much less time, and, believe it or not, they actually enjoy it. However, a
recent experience would have left me traumatized if it hadn’t been for my
children.
* * *
While traveling to
New York, my van broke down right after the Delaware Memorial Bridge. The
amount of hashgacha we experienced when a frum Yid backed up on
the shoulder of the highway to help us, waited with us until the tow truck
came, and drove us back into Delaware to the only open rental place available,
while offering to let us have our car towed to his place of business is enough
to fill an entire issue of Mishpacha. After ensuring that we would be
taken care of by the rental company, we said our farewells and watched him pull
away.
That’s when the
trouble started. After the salesman charged my credit card and we signed on the
dotted line, I waited for the key. After a few awkward moments, I asked the
clerk for the key. He responded, “Ma’am, I already gave it to you.” As if being
called “Ma’am” wasn’t bad enough, I was confused because I didn’t see a key
anywhere. So, like any intelligent person who knows what a key looks like, I
replied, “No, sir, I don’t think you did.”
After a moment of
silence, my son whispered to me, “It’s on the counter in front of you. Don’t
worry, I’ll help you.” That’s when I knew I was in over my head. So, it turns
out that the key was really a fob, masquerading as a key. Now, I know what a
fob is. I’ve had the pleasure of waving it in front of a small panel in order
to magically open a door. What I couldn’t figure out was how it was supposed to
start a car. It turns out that the fob has to be inside the car when driving,
although it does not actually start the car. Do you know how I started the car?
I started it by pressing a button. I thought this was a little weird, but I was
happy that it was well within my technological abilities.
I finally drove
out of the parking lot and came to a red light. It was there that the car died.
Stopped. Cut-off. As did my heartbeat. Luckily, we were only a block away from
the rental place. As I started explaining to my children that we would have to
walk back because the car died, my daughter piped up, “No Mommy, it’s just an
energy-saving device. The car will start again when you press the gas.”
Needless to say, I got my broken-down, non-fob-starting, but user-friendly
old-fashioned minivan fixed and drove it back to Maryland at my earliest
opportunity.
* * *
Technology
is not the only area where I find myself turning to my children for their
expertise. There is a high-tension, seasonal issue that that many of us
recently navigated: the switch over from stockings to tights. Now, although I
did mention that this is a seasonal decision, which is also correlated to some
degree with the Jewish holidays, there is some variation due to the climate in
which one lives. For example, the transition to black tights generally occurs
around Sukkos and back again to stockings around Pesach. Things tend to get a
little muddled when Sukkos comes early, as it did this year, and it is still 85
degrees outside. This creates an air of uncertainty that is generally solved by
asking a female family member who cares more than you do. Her decision is not
made on a whim. It is based on data that is collected by carefully observing
the ratio of stocking to tights of all women with whom you interact between the
first day of Sukkos until a week after Simchas Torah.
This
is not to say that we don’t also focus on the spiritual aspects of the
holidays. Now, although this informal method would not merit having the results
published in a reputable journal, it is sufficient for determining when to
switch over to the dark side. Of course, if you are traveling to another city,
please check with their LOR, local ordinance ruling, beforehand.
Although
it’s nice to be able to do things yourself, it’s also important to know when to
seek guidance. My motto is “When in doubt, ask someone who was born after Clinton
was president.” They are more than likely to be able to help you with both your
high- and low-tech decisions, even though you might have to grant them a
pardon, since they probably don’t know who Clinton is.
