I remember the first time I saw a computer mouse. In 1984 (May, I think), my dad drove me over to Lubbock, Texas, and we stopped in at a computer store. While my dad did whatever it was he was supposed to be doing (my guess is he just wanted to goof off with the computers, just like me), I was allowed to test-drive a Macintosh.

This was the original Mac, 64K of memory and no hard drive. I wasn't too interested in the word-processing program (we had an Apple IIe at home, and it had one of those), but after punching a number of floppies in and out of the drive, MacPaint came up on the screen.

That's where the mouse really came into play.

I couldn't get enough of creating random patterns with the mouse, changing brushes and backgrounds to complete my vision.

But to be honest, I had no vision. I was just delirious with joy. This was one cool computer!

Okay, so the original Mac was basically a $2,500 Etch-A-Sketch. Doesn't matter. I could see the future. And, of course, so could everyone else.

Last weekend, my wife and I went over to her grandmother's house. The task at hand: Teach Grandmother how to use her new computer.

She has no experience with computers. But years ago, Grandmother had worked as a journalist at newspapers and a radio station, so she's not scared by new technology. Also, she knows how to type. So no big problems on that front.

The concept of the mouse, however, proved a more difficult sell.

She understands the "point" idea. And she understands the "click" idea. A "double click" is a somewhat foreign concept, but the big problem she has is deciding when to point, click and double click. In computerese, she hasn't quite mastered manipulation of the cursor.

I seem to remember figuring out the mouse in about 10 seconds. It just made sense. After messing around with a IIe for a couple years, I had envisioned the need for something like a mouse (my idea was something more like small joystick, but whatever). When the mouse appeared, I was ready.

Grandmother, on the other hand, is used to typewriters. They don't need mice. On most machines, you can't really edit except by using tape or correction fluid. In other words, she is used to the finality of mistakes.

Which, of course, is one of the big improvements with computer word processing. Any and all mistakes can be corrected. In my day job as a web editor, I have the ability to correct mistakes at any time. This, of course, is a marked advantage to printed newspapers.

And so Grandmother is having some difficulty assimilating all the "advantages" of computers. She recognizes all of the things she can do, but she just doesn't have the skills yet. Mainly, she doesn't quite have the knack of pointing, clicking and then doing her task. Often she holds down on the button for too long, or she can't tell exactly where her pointer is pointed.

These aren't big problems, Indeed, by Saturday night, she was asking for help less than once an hour and had typed in a number of old (1940s and 50s) letters into a file.

What was most illuminating for me was watching someone try to comprehend an unanticipated piece of equipment. After 70-some years, Grandmother had to re-train her right hand to use a completely foreign tool. She was more than up for the task, even though it did take her a bit longer than it took me as a 14-year-old. But that can only be expected. Yeah, she got frustrated. Yeah, it was a somewhat laborious task. Still, she's getting there. And she's looking forward to the day when she feels like she's telling the computer what to do, not the other way around.

She's sure she'll get there. So am I. And while mastering a Mac may sound like a rather minimal accomplishment, I can assure you that it isn't necessarily so. Heading into a learning process like that and emerging with an expectation for more is what really impresses me. There is no need to shrink back from a challenge, no matter how great it seems. There is only the need to tackle those challenges.

Jon Worley remembers when "portable" computers were the size of a suitcase.