MY LAST BITE OF THE APPLE

“Today, September 7, 2016, I had my last One on One session at the Apple Store — the training program is being phased out. I have been going there for years, more than I’m willing to admit.
When my daughter bought an Apple MacBook I was already old and I thought: this is not for me, too complicated, I’ll never be able to master it. Eventually she talked me into it and I bought one too. It’s a lovely thing, I thought, but will I ever be able to play with it like the young people do? My fingers are awkward, not so flexible anymore, and I can’t decipher most of what I’m looking at. “I’ll help you,” my daughter said, “and bit by bit you’ll familiarize yourself with the Mac and you won’t be scared of it.” “Says you,” I countered, “and anyhow you’re going back to California, how are you going to help me?” “Ah,” she said, “they have a program going at the Apple Store now, trainers who teach you how to use the Mac — it’s very affordable.” “Do you think they’ll be willing to train somebody as old as I am?” “Of course,” she said “don’t be such a wimp. Go for it.”
So I took the plunge and went to the Apple Store in the Bridgewater NJ Mall to sign up. There was quite a crowd: children and their parents, toddlers and babies in strollers with their mothers, teenagers, young men, middle-aged men, not too many old people, maybe one really old person like me — better one than none I thought, as I scanned the room.
Scattered amongst the crowd were young men and women in blue teeshirts with the Apple logo stamped on the left. Some of them were demonstrating products, pointing out different features and explaining innovations, some were paired up with a student for a One on One session, others were teaching a workshop, some were manning the Genius Bar at the back of the room, diagnosing and solving problems for Apple users. They were all technicians, with expertise in certain areas. In spite of the fact that they were dressed the same, jeans and a blue teeshirt, I noticed they were very creative regarding their hair, especially the men. Some had their heads shaved, except for a tuft of hair springing straight up like a plume in the middle of their scalp, others had a big patch of hair spiked up with gel with everything else shaved bare around the neck and ears. There were unique variations on the Mohawk, some with curly or wavy hair, some stiff and straight. The girls were overall more conservative, possibly because women, once they’ve grown their hair long, are reluctant to part with it, but there were different color combinations to admire, blue with orange streaks, violet. or just plain green. I found it all fascinating, these were the millennials, the future of America, spunky, bright and edgy techies, with a charisma all their own.
The noise was significant and the scene looked chaotic, but I sensed order in the middle of chaos as a young man approached me with a device in his hands and asked if he could help me. I signed up for a year’s worth of lessons with some trepidation — I was still not sure what an old girl like me was doing there, surrounded by all that technology, and the techies that ride it like a wave.
I had my first lesson the next week. My trainer, who happened to be male, treated me with consideration, but it wasn’t excessive. The computer was new to me, I was there to learn, my age was not a factor and there was nothing patronizing about his manner. Every week it was the same with different trainers: no stress, but subtle encouragement, the ideal environment in which to learn.
I’m 88 years-old now, addicted to my training lessons and to all my trainers — I love them all. I might as well admit it, I’m going to miss them terribly, they are my teachers, but also my friends, my mentors really, even though I’m almost four times as old as most of them. Always courteous, patient and encouraging, these wonderful young men and women, with consummate skill and unfailing good humor have helped me unravel the mysteries of the Mac Book and have taught me how to use it with enough confidence and know-how to make it an invaluable part of my daily life. I’m not afraid of it anymore and when I make a mistake or can’t figure out how to do something, I stick with it until I find a solution. If I don’t find one, I know I can consult my trainer at my next lesson.
Oh. Oh. I forgot, no more lessons, that’s over. “You can sign up for a workshop,” said one of my trainers, “or, if you have a question, there will always be somebody here to answer it.” Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it, but it’s not the same as knowing that every week you have a familiar place to go to, where questions will be answered by somebody who is expecting you and will give you his or her undivided attention for most of an hour.
I’m sitting here in my house, it’s early evening and I’m feeling very sad. It’s not about the lessons, I have been well trained, I can keep learning on my own. It’s about the relationships I’m losing, the relationships I have with my trainers, who are also my friends. Once I don’t go to the Apple Store anymore I’ll be forgotten and all these young people brimming with life, talent and ideas, who were once part of my world will have disappeared.
It’s natural, things change, life goes on, new people come and go. the young take it all in stride. For old people change is harder and the feeling of loss, for me at least, is more intense. Maybe because our hold on life is more precarious and we know that time is not on our side, the experiences we value the most, those that make us feel fully alive, are the ones that connect us to others in a meaningful way.
My trainers are not only good teachers, they are unique individuals, different from one another in personality, temperament, teaching style. They are interesting, fun to be with, well worth knowing.
I can think of Anastasia, tall and slim, with great hair — sometimes it’s a rich dusky brown, other times platinum blond or silver. It may be violet next time I see her. Anastasia is a born teacher, who knows how to size up her students and proceed accordingly. “I have no idea what to do now.” I might say, “should I click on this icon, or is it that one?” Anastasia has a soft voice and a gentle manner, but she is no pushover. “Why don’t you try one, either one,” she would answer, “and you’ll find out.”
Jeremy is half French and he has that je ne sais quoi about him that says Paris. Since I am European born — Italian father, Scottish mother — I have a special affinity with Jeremy. He has a gorgeous Russian wife — he showed me on the Mac a portrait he’d painted of her — and he is a very good artist, bold and imaginative, with fire and intricate detail to his work. I learned a lot from him — he is good at explaining things about the Mac that I find puzzling, or hard to grasp.
There’s Kelli, who favors custom made earrings with a hardware motif, the head of a screw for instance — elegant and very contemporary — and loves to go places. She is also an excellent artist and dreams up all kinds of complicated designs and fantastic-looking people. Energy shoots out of her with every move. She teaches with verve!
Kelli lives with her family. They have two dogs, one a puppy, which mostly belongs to Kelli. He is so black that sometimes in a photo, unless the light hits the pupils, his dark eyes become invisible. She shows me the latest snapshot whenever I have her as my trainer. “I just took a photo yesterday,” she says, “do you want to see it?” Of course I want to see it, and I like to hear about her family too. They all sound so vibrant, the whole house must pop with energy.
Jeff is one of the older ones, still a virtual baby compared to me, and he writes children’s books which he illustrates himself. His first is due to be published soon. I’ll buy it of course and give it to my great-granddaughter after I have read it. Jeff has a fine-honed sense of humor and a wonderful smile that crinkles up his whole face. I have a sense that he has made his peace with life over the years and now just wants to enjoy it. He has a smooth teaching style that reminds me to relax and not to take anything too seriously.
Stephanie is tall and willowy, she puts me in mind of a Botticelli painting, something about the way her long blond hair frames her face and the dreamy expression in her eyes. She is friendly, but a touch reserved, so one is careful not to be intrusive. She is full of grace and laughs easily. Teaching with clarity and purpose is her signature.
I must not forget JJ. He is not a trainer, but he welcomed me to the Apple Store when I first went there. Shortly afterwards I saw him at the Metropolitan Opera with his father. Around that time the brother of one of the teachers, a young woman who is no longer in Bridgewater, was becoming well known as a tenor and had landed a starring role in a Met production. A big contingent from the Apple Store went to hear him sing. JJ was there, I was there, and we are now Apple/Opera friends. He greets me with a hug when I go to the Apple Store.
There are many others of course, but these are the ones with whom I am most familiar, the ones I’ve worked with more frequently. Each one will have his or her niche in my mind, but I know they won’t just be memories. I believe that once we have a connection with someone that connection is never broken. So when I think about my trainers, who are also my friends, it won’t be just images I see, I will feel the connection, and who they are, their essence, will be a part of me.
All this from a program that has given me and countless aging people like myself the opportunity to enrich our lives and feel like participants, not outsiders, in a society that could have left us hopelessly behind in its wake.
I am currently writing a book on old age from an insider’s perspective. Without my Mac training the endeavor would be overwhelming. My thanks and everlasting gratitude to the individual who came with up the idea of One to One training and to the team who created the program.
This is no ordinary Apple I have bitten into, oh no, it’s an enchanted Apple… it invites you to keep on biting and the bites are fresh and juicy every time.
