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Jerry Gallagher of White Plains, N.Y., finds himself, at 48, in the midst of divorce proceedings. He has been married 21 years, is the father of three children and vice president of a company that makes portable computers. He feels the complexity of the technology contributed to his alienation from his family: "It bothers me when I tell my wife we can go to 256K bytes of memory and it means nothing to her. I don't want to be sexist, but women don't understand."
Surprisingly, Gallagher's analysis is shared by many professionals. "Computers and video games are clearly sexist," says Stanford Psychologist Philip Zimbardo. "The programs feed into the learned differences between men and women, like mathematics and engineering." Zimbardo believes that increased sales of home computers could spread addiction and its attendant vexations. "As more people get involved with computers in their everyday lives," he warns, "we are likely to see more of these problems in the general population."
Right now there are almost 2 million personal and home computers in the U.S., and manufacturers will ship nearly 2 million more this year. One company alone, Timex, is turning out copies of its $99.95 computer at the rate of one machine every ten seconds. As a rule of thumb, Columnist Art Buchwald has suggested, "For every home computer sold in America, there is a computer widow somewhere."
"Sports widow, computer widow, you name it, that's me," says Actress Elaine Grant, 25. Three months ago, her husband brought home a $250 Commodore VIC 20. "I have to laugh sometimes," she says. "When friends come, Jerry immediately drags them over to show them the computer. Some may actually understand what's going on, but most just stand there and smile and can't wait to get away." Jerry, 42, a violinist with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and his son David, 9, now while away the hours playing games, composing music and deciphering complex programs. "Jerry has begged me to show some interest," Elaine confesses, "but I can't. It's ugly. It makes obnoxious noises. It has about 80 zillion things stuck to the back of the TV. Hair dryers self-destruct in my hands, so why should I touch the computer?"
Many women, rather than join the computer revolution, have hammered out peace pacts with their mates. In Palo Alto, Calif., a woman who spent five years with an Atari programmer finally imposed a 15-minute limit on uninterrupted talk about his work. In Atlanta the wife of a former camera bug who switched to home computers uses travel to protect their relationship. Says she: "I insist that we go to our place at the lake every weekend to get him away from the computer."
That would not have stopped Bart Voyce. He takes his portable computer nearly everywhere, from a New Year's Eve party to the roof of his Newark apartment building, where he mixes programming with nude sunbathing. He threatened to bring it along on his honeymoon. "I'm kind of patient," says Lisa, his wife of two months, "but after a while, it gets annoying. He'll be programming for hours, and I'll be staring at his back. I finally got involved in computers just to keep up. You can't let a machine come between you."