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Picture this: It is 2:00 PM. You are on the phone with your mother. She needs to see a message from her doctor about a prescription refill. The doctor’s office, in their infinite wisdom, has sent this vital health information…

Picture this: You sit down to check your email, ready to see if your granddaughter sent those photos of her new puppy or to find out if that Nigerian Prince ever got the money you sent him (spoiler alert: he…

You have settled into your favorite armchair with a cup of coffee, ready to visit a website you’ve been to a dozen times. Maybe it’s a local knitting blog or a site dedicated to the history of antique doorknobs. You…

You are sitting there, minding your own business, perhaps typing an email to your grandson or trying to beat your high score in Solitaire. You move the mouse to click “Send” or move that King of Hearts, and… nothing happens.…

Picture this: You’ve just received an email from your grandniece. It’s titled “Wedding Photos,” and you are ready to see the dress, the cake, and Uncle Bob’s questionable dance moves. You click the file with the enthusiasm of a kid…

You’ve finally found it—the perfect Solitaire app. It looks fun, the cards are big enough to see without squinting, and it’s free. You tap “Install,” feeling a rush of excitement for the upcoming game. But then, right before you can…

You buy a new smartphone or tablet. The salesperson, a young whippersnapper who speaks entirely in acronyms, assures you this device has “128 Gigabytes” of storage. That sounds like a number made up by a scientist in a 1950s sci-fi…

You are sitting comfortably in your favorite chair, coffee in hand, ready to check the weather or perhaps look at photos of your granddaughter’s new puppy. You press the button on your tablet or computer, and instead of your familiar…

You finally decided to do it. You pulled that dusty, terrifying shoebox of old photos out of the closet. You bought a scanner—or maybe you dusted off the one that’s been functioning as a cat bed for three years. You…

Back in the day, inheriting the family photo history was a straightforward—albeit heavy—affair. It usually involved climbing into an attic, wrestling with a cardboard box that smelled vaguely of mothballs, and discovering that Aunt Mildred had chopped her ex-husband’s head…