The coming AI 'boom' and us 'old folks'

Following Sondra across the Atlantic at 34,000 feet, and at 475 mph

Let me start this ‘Substack’ by giving you my rationale behind my work to master (as much as possible) my computer with its many applications; why I am investing time and effort to become proficient in its use; and why I practice ‘playing’ it like a musical instrument, in the hopes of using it smoothly, and with confidence.

I am approaching 83 and I feel myself aging and slowing. I won’t detail, (here at least), how I know this — I want to preserve some dignity! Let me say instead that I know that my ‘hippocampus’ is deteriorating on schedule. The hippocampus is a cerebral structure I saw in med school when we cut open the brain. It looked like a dark fossilized seahorse, deep within the temporal lobe’s white matter. Today, we know it is integral to how we create, store, and retrieve memories — and of course, how we learn. The word ‘hippocampus’ comes from the Greek and refers to that small marine creature that swims upright, with a head and neck suggestive of a horse.

I spent a good part of medical school in Texas learning the ‘essential’ language of medicine, often derived centuries before, from Greek and Latin. It’s not really a jargon, designed to make us look smart and erudite, although some believe it to be; and some doctors use it that way. It’s an essential part of medicine, but should be learned with a little humility. I vividly remember, as I struggled to differentiate ‘streptococcus’ from ‘staphylococcus’ under the microscope, the words of one of my microbiology lecturers. He urged us to focus on the shape of the bacteria, and not be intimidated by long scientific names, like ‘Streptococcus viridans’: “When you say ‘Giuseppe Verdi’, which sounds rather pompous here in Dallas, just remember his neighbor in Italy knew him (in his mind) as ‘Joe Green’.”

What does it mean for me that my hippocampus is deteriorating with age? What functions are falling off? Here, I’m going to dramatically dumb down our normal brain functioning. If my brain is a library with knowledge and experience placed in books, then those books are packed in stacks, located upstairs in my cerebral cortex. These cortical structures or stacks have mushroomed out of the basement levels of my brain, and have become the largest part of my neurological apparatus. In evolutionary terms, they are most recent; and I believe they set us apart from other forms of life on earth.

I judge that the books on the shelves upstairs, containing what I know, are fine and working well. In addition, there is a mechanism or machine, (powered from my frontal lobe), that goes about the stacks, reads the books, and actually learns something. That mechanism is also fine, unimpaired. (In fact, I would argue that my frontal lobe functioning has become even a little better with advancing years).

Thank G-d, I don’t see evidence of a serious brain disease, just the normal physiology of life — which means simply that my hippocampus is going down the tubes as programmed. It’s similar to the normal process that drove me to bifocals when the flexibility of the lens in my eyes was lost; (as seems to happen with all of us, reliably, at around age 40).

What do I lose when I no longer have my youthful ‘hippocampal’ functioning? In my library analogy, my hippocampus is my freaking card catalog. Without it, I have trouble finding any books in my cerebral cortex upstairs. The information is there, but without a well-functioning hippocampus, I have trouble locating where it resides, exactly, in the stacks. In addition, our hippocampus functions like our mental scratchpad; it’s akin to the stack of used envelopes on my desk I use to store stuff temporarily, like a phone number or some reminder. I know when I ‘lose’ a word or thought, it’s a slip of my hippocampus. When I find myself back in my bedroom, having another (more frequently occurring) ‘senior moment’ and forgetting why I came — I can blame my hippocampus.

So, if reading glasses are our ‘work around’ for the loss of our lens’ flexibility, for amblyopia; what can I use as a work around for the loss of my hippocampus? For me, the answer has been the computer. For the past couple years I have been investing my time and energy, quite deliberately, to try and use my computer as my ‘work around’. I believe that the process of ‘learning computer’ is beneficial. ChapGPT tells me that studies show “while normal aging can bring about a gradual decrease in hippocampal volume and neurogenesis… there are lifestyle factors that can help preserve hippocampal health.” Naturally, a list of these factors contains all that would be expected, (ho hum) — regular exercise, continuous mental stimulation, healthy eating, getting quality sleep, managing stress, and maintaining social activity. If I pay attention to these factors, Chat assures me that it will “help support hippocampal structure and function over time”.

I take Chat’s advice quite seriously. I believe that it, and the other emerging AI apps, (like Grok, which I am also investigating), will be a boon to people over 70. For example, I always try working the New York Times Sunday Crossword. (Sondra and I have a subtle but healthy competition in this regard. Whoever finishes first — usually Sondra — gets to offer a smile, reeking of condescension, along side a mild question, “need help?”) But in addition to puzzles, I always try to spend time exploring (or surfing) ‘computerland’ — even to the extent of struggling through the expected onerous and frustrating first part of the learning curve, needed for any new app or procedure.

A week ago, we got word that my brother-in-law Calvin, 90 years old and living at home with Sondra’s sister Fran, suddenly and without warning went to hospital by ambulance. We soon learned as well that he was not expected to return home. Within less than 24 hours, Sondra was ticketed and the next day, on her way to Jerusalem.

On the day I began writing this Substack, she was scheduled to fly back. Reaching Ben Gurion airport, her phone stopped working. A kind stranger lent her a phone and we spoke briefly, and quickly agreed since she no longer had a phone, our next contact would be late that night, when she would walk into the apartment. Our earlier plan, to speak by phone during her Warsaw layover, was scratched.

Indeed, I had no further contact with Sondra, and was somewhat frustrated and worried. I went to my computer and looked up her flight number (handily stored with her flight confirmation) and started playing around. I had earlier bookmarked a website in a folder I had set up, under ‘* TRAVEL’, called “Flight Tracker”. When I clicked on it, I could follow little airplane silhouettes landing and taking off from La Guardia. Playing around, I was able to transition to JFK. But I needed Warsaw. Surfing around, I found “FlightAware”, which allowed me to see silhouettes taking off and landing anywhere in the world. I spent sometime poking around the screen, trying to see where this button and that button took me. I will often do this to poke around, experiment, and see how something works. I label this activity as ‘FAFO’, but Chat informed me that the primary meaning of ‘FAFO’ (an acronym for “F*** Around and Find Out”) is a warning that reckless actions can lead to harsh consequences, sort of like the phrase, ‘playing with fire’. Nonetheless, it can also be used playfully (as I was doing with FlightAware) in the context of “trying things out to see what happens.”

In any event, it was time well spent: (a) I found that Sondra’s flight had left Warsaw and was now over Germany. Hours went by and I would periodically bring up the green silhouette of a plane, crossing Europe, then the Atlantic, then deviating south to avoid a storm, then flying over Labrador and Maine, always trailed by a text box with green letters indicating air port codes and arrival time, (b) I got to ‘play’ at being a air traffic controller in front of my imaginary radar set, and (c) I was learning things and making my hippocampus work (and be healthier, I hope).

That day had started in Israel, with Sondra calling briefly at the gate, to tell me she had no working phone and we would not be in communication. She then hung up, leaving me frustrated and worried. I found the silhouette of her plane on FlightAware and followed it (and her) until the little green letters appeared, “LANDED”. I was comforted and got ready to greet her.

One project that I have in retirement is to see if I can ‘set up’ or ‘structure’ my computer to take over some of my hippocampal functions. The ‘Cloud’ offers me essentially unlimited ‘stack space’, for pennies a week. The issue remains, in a card catalogue sense; how do I organize my computer so that I can later retrieve whatever I put in the cloud? How do the cloud searching functions of my system work and can I use them efficiently and effectively? Is there something ‘intuitive’ that resides in the upper levels of my mind that will help me with these tasks? These are questions that I am currently trying to answer. In the meantime, I continue to FAFO. If there’s interest, I’m happy to share. If not, I’ll continue to make notes.