Just had a horrifying thought:
Have been thinking happily recently that, had I had a computer in the home while I was growing up, I might not have felt so utterly lonely and barren.
But then the reality hit me: Even had there been a computer in my home, my mother would have forbidden me from using it. I would have been as isolated in 2016 as I was in 1982.
In the 80s, my mother forbade me from seeing even the girl my age next door. Summers, my brother was allowed to go out with the neighborhood gang. I was not.
I can't tell you how mentally crazed I was summers, trapped out in the country completely alone. A computer -- something, SOME communication with others -- would have made me feel sane. Imagine being denied computer communication after being denied everything else.
Funnily, my brother has told me in later years that, during his time with the boyz in the hood, they'd compare penises and jack off, slurping Robitussin and even doing acid.
The only thing that me and my next-door neighbor, both of us 14 or so, ever did in our spare time was listen to the "Grease" soundtrack and sunbathe topless on her trampoline and dress up/perform to KISS records.
A side-note: Summers, my mother arranged for my younger brother to participate in a Fort Worth Nature Center program. On the other hand, she left me home by myself. No group to participate in, and also not allowed to interact with the neighbor-kids.
Cracks me up that both my mother and my father left me to rot. And yet, here I am! How in the world did I survive? (power of Beatles and Plath and Joan and one's internal resources)