ttle boy. Hello, young man." Since I was the only kid in the immediate vicinity, I quickly figured out that she was talking to me. "Hi," I said, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "That's a nice hat you have." The old lady tossed aside my well-intentioned complement. "Oh, you're such a cute little boy," she replied. "Are you enjoying the fair?" "Yeah," I replied. I paused awkwardly for a few seconds. Again at a loss for words, I decided to repeat her question. "Are you enjoying the fair?" I asked. "Oh, dear me, no. I'm not at the fair, son," she answered. "I'm visiting Disneyland." INTRODUCTION Her words hit my ears and rebounded inside my soft head like a thunder. Disneyland! California! The fabled home of Mickey, Minnie, and Tomorrow- land! Even at the tender age of eight, I knew that Disneyland was on the other side of the country. (Actually, my father had taught me that valuable geo- graphic lesson a couple years earlier, shortly after Walt's Sunday evening TV program inspired me to launch a brief, yet spirited, "let's all go to Disneyland" lobbying campaign.) Talking to Disneyland! At our home, talking on the phone to my Aunt Hannie, who lived on the other side of Queens, was considered a big deal. Yet here I was, not only chatting with-but actually seeing-a person thousands of miles away. This was the big time! Before I had a chance to fully appreciate the moment, or even ask the old lady to say hi to Mickey for me, the hostess whisked me out of the chair and sent me back to into the realm of primitive mortals (namely, those who have never used a PicturePhone) The hostess resumed her patter. "The Bell System created this transcontinental PicturePhone hook-up to demonstrate both the practical and human potential of this ground-breaking technology," she said in a sing-song, rote-style of voice. "In just a few years, people around the world will not only hear but see blah, blah, blah. Grandparents will be able to see their grandchildren blah, blah, blah. Paving the path to worldwide peace blah, blah, bl