Dad and technology: first published in 1992

When we lived in Colorado Springs, we were just a heartbeat away from the headquarters of Walter Drake and Sons.  You know Walter Drake -- the direct-mail firm whose ads promise an easier, more efficient lifestyle.  Walt's catalogs have been a part of my life for at least 30 years.  Yet when I lived near the Source of All Gadgets, I never made a pilgrimage.  I guess I didn't want to be disappointed.
   Walt's ads never disappoint.  He has a gadget for everything.  With Walt's help, you can thread a needle with just the push of a button.  You can relieve sinus pain with a special heated mask.  You can vacuum your mini-blinds, stop drafts or extend counter space.  I didn't know I had some problems until I found them in Walter Drake. 
   The company has clung to two hallmarks.  The ads are full of exclamation points, and nearly everything runs on batteries.
   Over 45 years Walt's gadgets have gone with the flow.  He still sells his apparatus to remove unsightly facial hair, but he also recognizes that these are dangerous times.  For peace of mind, he is selling a tubular steel door guard to wedge between doorknob and floor.  A burglar-proof door bolt and a door stop alarm complete the lineup.  In another bow to the times, he has come up with some microwave and computer accessorites.
   As ever, Walt's buyers are "into" storage.  His 1992 catalog offers a rolling slacks rack, zippered blanket case, over-the-door clothes and shoe racks, in-closet tie rack, and a baseball cap rack.  Walt's buyers may also be the only people in the world who still iron.  This year he offers an iron cord guide and a rack to store both iron and board.  I'll pass on those, thanks.
   When I think of Walter Drake, I think of my father.  He always loved gadgets.  He has dimmers on all his lamps and special flow controls on every shower head.  He has not opened a can by hand for 40 years.  When my mother's zeal for mending began to fade, he bought a gadget to reattach shirt buttons.  He followed this with a hand-held sewing machine for quick hem repairs.
   Dad and the microwave were love at first sight.  He never really started cooking until he retired, and then he didn't have to.  Most recently, he bought a mini-computer at a yard sale, and taught himself to run it.  Like most yard sale finds, it came without the instruction booklet.
   Dad's fascination with labor-saving devices used to irritate me, especially during my hippie period.  My back-to-the-earth philosophy eschewed appliances (except of course my hair dryer).  I liked to make banana bread by hand, in a huge wooden bowl, kneading the fragrant mixture like clay.  We made our own noodles, and scrubbed floors by hand.  Once in a while someone would dream about getting a place in the country, and doing all the plowing with draft horses.  I'm glad that one didn't work out.
   Time, and increased responsibilities, have mellowed me. My father sits in his Archie-Bunker-style lounger.  (Amazingly, the chair doesn't do anything special.)  He watches a taped movie on the VCR, and lowers the sound with the remote control.  On his coffee table there is a cordless phone and a bowl of microwave popcorn.  I don't blame him a bit.  This June I wish Walter Drake a happy 45th, and my father a happy -- and streamlined -- Father's Day.  He deserves it.