JULIE ANN STEVENS

The year is 2007.  My parents are 70 years old and fighting for their lives in a combat zone of connections, cords, passwords, geek speak and devices.

Assisted by amazon.com, my brothers and sisters and I recently jacked up their terror with the equivalent of a Belfast car bomb disguised as a thoughtful birthday gift for my mother.

The “ceiva” is a magical picture frame that connects to the phone line in their home and has a magical way to receive new pictures from their family every night while visions of sugar plums dance in their little device-tortured heads.  Did I say magical?

More like Jackal-in-a-box. 

I joined the birthday bomb squad about 48 hours ago and have been holed up in their office bunker ever since.  Here I knit a sweater in the time it took internet pages to load, scanned the ceiva FAQ in billboard size type,  and waited on hold for a customer service representative while my shell-shocked parents hung on for dear life.  

At this writing I am happy to report the ceiva is finally receiving and peace has been restored on Happy Valley Road.

With a faint glow of victory, I soldier on.