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The Electronic Era
Chronicles of Small Beer Hitchhiking In my dotage, I have developed a timidity about going places and getting back. If it is something like a football game or a concert, and I am driving, I fret about parking. If I go by taxi or bus, I worry about how to get a ride back to where I started. A few times, I have joined someone who chartered a limousine. But that goes against my Scottish nature, and I am not likely to do it. When I lived in Chicago, going to the theater or anything else in the evening took some nervous planning. If we did not drive into the city, when did we have to leave the theater to get a taxi to the railroad station, where my wife and I could get the last train to our suburban home? After all, a taxi ride would cost more than the theater or concert ticket. And a delayed return also ran up the cost of the babysitter in several years. In Washington, we always drove from the suburbs to the Kennedy Center for symphony concerts. The problem there was bucking the homeward traffic to arrive in time to park at the Kennedy Center or in one of the nearby garages. But all of this differs drastically from my upbringing, my casual attitude, and my innocent faith that there would some way for me to get to and from wherever I was going. Our grade school was four blocks from home. The junior and senior high schools were a mile across town. I walked or rode my bicycle, even for trips home for lunch. For evening functions, I walked with the hope that someone would give me a ride. And I peddled my bicycle 5 miles a day on my paper delivery route. So I was sturdy and very much like most of my classmates. Traveling the 40 miles to and from my first college was accomplished mostly by hitchhiking. This was shortly after World War II, and very few of us youngsters had cars. Only a few veterans did. But many people driving those 40 miles were indulgent of college students, and I was never abandoned, not even on the day it snowed 10 inches. The woman who picked me up said that she might need my help to push her car out of a ditch if she slipped; fortunately not. My next college, the University of Missouri, was some 350 miles distant. I could find a ride from a classmate, at least to near my hometown. One night, my driver arrived in his hometown about midnight. So I slept on his couch and thumbed it home the next morning. And my third campus, the University of Wisconsin, was some 600 miles away. So I got on the train overnight to Chicago, then changed stations and trains and made the second leg the next morning. After college and my first year in the army, I hitchhiked. Then I bought a car. It was an elderly Plymouth, a bit rusty from the rock salt spread to melt snow on Chicago streets. I needed a new muffler every spring. I had to find parking on the street, and on cold winter days, I was lucky if the car would start. But most of us carried cables and helped jump-start other cars, even for total strangers. I found it a reasonable thing to give rides to any hitchhiker who looked reasonably clean. When I got married, my wife used the rusty Plymouth to drive to her school-teaching job. But as a city girl, she was
unwilling to pick up a hitchhiker and objected to my doing it when we were riding together. By the late 1950s, the interstate highway system had begun to push its way through and between cities. That made it very difficult for hitchhikers. Illinois and some other states passed laws against thumbing for rides on interstate roads. And even if we ignored the law, it was difficult to stand somewhere so that a driver could slow down and stop to give someone a lift. One of the few times I tried, I made a sign stating where I was going. That got me a ride. But that driver was drunk, and I abandoned him at the next intersection. I was lucky once more, but by then, my innocence had disappeared, and I gave up the hope of a free ride. In recent years, I seldom see a hitchhiker on a highway. Sometimes I find one at a gasoline station, and once or twice I have offered a ride. My last one asked if he could smoke in my car and offered me some marijuana. I declined both, and he asked to be let out at the next gas station. This business of free rides is only one of so many things that have changed for me and for many others. I am grateful for the many folks who saved me hundreds of dollars. And I sometimes wonder how those contemporaneous to my grandchildren get from place to place. In our neighborhood, most of them have cars from age 16. And so far, I still can drive and do not need to beg for rides.
Otha Linton, MSJ Potomac, MD
The Electronic Era On several occasions in this column, I have bemoaned the advent of the electronic publication of journals and other publications in the field of medicine, in which I know something about publications, and doubtless in other fields. Shaking my thinning gray locks and shrugging my creaky shoulders, I have deplored the reality of growing sections of publications that are referenced to Web sites and not available in the pages I hold in my hand. A few months ago, my wife got a renewal notice from a magazine she had subscribed to for a couple of decades. The price was being raised to include both the mailed paper copy and the electronic version. The electronic version could be subscribed to at a reduced rate. Because she did not like struggling with computers to read anything, I called the subscription number and asked about the price for the traditional paper copy. ‘‘Nobody ever asked us that,’’ replied the order taker. ‘‘What is the price?’’ I asked again. ‘‘I don’t know. I’ll have to find out and call you back.’’ An hour later, she called. ‘‘The circulation manager says we do not have a price for hard copies alone. He said you can start using our Web site now. You don’t have to wait until your new subscription starts.’’ So I replied, ‘‘Cancel our subscription as of now, 129
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and return our money for the remaining number of copies. It says on your masthead that you will refund money for a canceled subscription.’’ ‘‘Send us an e-mail to ask for cancelation,’’she answered. ‘‘Let me speak to the circulation manager. I want to tell him how stupid this is.’’ ‘‘I’ll take care of it. Have a nice day,’’ she replied, and we rang off. A month later came the small check. I poured a small drink and felt smug. But before you cast me aside as a Luddite opposed to all progress, read on for my epiphany. On an airplane last week, I stretched and walked the length of the aisle twice. About half of the passengers had laptop computers active. I could not look at the contents of each one. But more people were reading than writing. When I think I have mastered my new laptop, I may take it along, more likely to write than to read. A dozen years ago, shortly after I became the executive director of the International Society of Radiology, I decided that we needed a Web site. I got a friend to set it up and tend to the mechanics. I also realized that to communicate with my leaders and respond to people all over the world, I had to learn to use e-mail, so I did. With only a couple of exceptions, my leaders are as facile as I am. The timing is infinitely better than snail mail or fax transmissions. We would like to use e-mail to communicate with our 86 national radiology society members. But I cannot get e-mail addresses from almost half of the societies. So our messages go into envelopes with stamps attached. And we never know whether
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some of our addressees get our messages. We mail our newsletter and also make it available on our Web site. But our Web site has blossomed in the hands of adept webmasters supported by a company of bright young people in Argentina who can take any request, shape and polish it, and insert it in just a few days. Now we have two virtual congresses, a reference text on tropical disease imaging, and soon a second reference text. Several other projects have started this year, including GoRad, our reference linkage of selected articles from a dozen leading journals around the world. We register those who want to participate in our virtual congresses. They can take the quizzes, get scored electronically, and finally receive continuing medical education credit. We have several thousand electronic subscribers from among our national society members. But the amazing reaction reflects the computer savvy and skills of radiologists in underdeveloped countries around the world. The other factor is that our material is available to anyone, and there is no expense reflected by increased interest. The Web site is www.isradiology.org. Have a look and marvel that others in Mongolia or Peru or Kenya or Iceland are viewing what you see. My request is that you indulge my political sense and give the credit to the younger, technically sophisticated folks who put these things together.
Otha Linton, MSJ Potomac, MD
unwilling to pick up a hitchhiker and objected to my doing it when we were riding together. By the late 1950s, the interstate highway system had begun to push its way through and between cities. That made it very difficult for hitchhikers. Illinois and some other states passed laws against thumbing for rides on interstate roads. And even if we ignored the law, it was difficult to stand somewhere so that a driver could slow down and stop to give someone a lift. One of the few times I tried, I made a sign stating where I was going. That got me a ride. But that driver was drunk, and I abandoned him at the next intersection. I was lucky once more, but by then, my innocence had disappeared, and I gave up the hope of a free ride. In recent years, I seldom see a hitchhiker on a highway. Sometimes I find one at a gasoline station, and once or twice I have offered a ride. My last one asked if he could smoke in my car and offered me some marijuana. I declined both, and he asked to be let out at the next gas station. This business of free rides is only one of so many things that have changed for me and for many others. I am grateful for the many folks who saved me hundreds of dollars. And I sometimes wonder how those contemporaneous to my grandchildren get from place to place. In our neighborhood, most of them have cars from age 16. And so far, I still can drive and do not need to beg for rides.
Otha Linton, MSJ Potomac, MD
The Electronic Era On several occasions in this column, I have bemoaned the advent of the electronic publication of journals and other publications in the field of medicine, in which I know something about publications, and doubtless in other fields. Shaking my thinning gray locks and shrugging my creaky shoulders, I have deplored the reality of growing sections of publications that are referenced to Web sites and not available in the pages I hold in my hand. A few months ago, my wife got a renewal notice from a magazine she had subscribed to for a couple of decades. The price was being raised to include both the mailed paper copy and the electronic version. The electronic version could be subscribed to at a reduced rate. Because she did not like struggling with computers to read anything, I called the subscription number and asked about the price for the traditional paper copy. ‘‘Nobody ever asked us that,’’ replied the order taker. ‘‘What is the price?’’ I asked again. ‘‘I don’t know. I’ll have to find out and call you back.’’ An hour later, she called. ‘‘The circulation manager says we do not have a price for hard copies alone. He said you can start using our Web site now. You don’t have to wait until your new subscription starts.’’ So I replied, ‘‘Cancel our subscription as of now, 129
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and return our money for the remaining number of copies. It says on your masthead that you will refund money for a canceled subscription.’’ ‘‘Send us an e-mail to ask for cancelation,’’she answered. ‘‘Let me speak to the circulation manager. I want to tell him how stupid this is.’’ ‘‘I’ll take care of it. Have a nice day,’’ she replied, and we rang off. A month later came the small check. I poured a small drink and felt smug. But before you cast me aside as a Luddite opposed to all progress, read on for my epiphany. On an airplane last week, I stretched and walked the length of the aisle twice. About half of the passengers had laptop computers active. I could not look at the contents of each one. But more people were reading than writing. When I think I have mastered my new laptop, I may take it along, more likely to write than to read. A dozen years ago, shortly after I became the executive director of the International Society of Radiology, I decided that we needed a Web site. I got a friend to set it up and tend to the mechanics. I also realized that to communicate with my leaders and respond to people all over the world, I had to learn to use e-mail, so I did. With only a couple of exceptions, my leaders are as facile as I am. The timing is infinitely better than snail mail or fax transmissions. We would like to use e-mail to communicate with our 86 national radiology society members. But I cannot get e-mail addresses from almost half of the societies. So our messages go into envelopes with stamps attached. And we never know whether
130
Academic Radiology, Vol 17, No 1, January 2010
some of our addressees get our messages. We mail our newsletter and also make it available on our Web site. But our Web site has blossomed in the hands of adept webmasters supported by a company of bright young people in Argentina who can take any request, shape and polish it, and insert it in just a few days. Now we have two virtual congresses, a reference text on tropical disease imaging, and soon a second reference text. Several other projects have started this year, including GoRad, our reference linkage of selected articles from a dozen leading journals around the world. We register those who want to participate in our virtual congresses. They can take the quizzes, get scored electronically, and finally receive continuing medical education credit. We have several thousand electronic subscribers from among our national society members. But the amazing reaction reflects the computer savvy and skills of radiologists in underdeveloped countries around the world. The other factor is that our material is available to anyone, and there is no expense reflected by increased interest. The Web site is www.isradiology.org. Have a look and marvel that others in Mongolia or Peru or Kenya or Iceland are viewing what you see. My request is that you indulge my political sense and give the credit to the younger, technically sophisticated folks who put these things together.
Otha Linton, MSJ Potomac, MD