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"Look, I don't want to know anything about those darn computers. You can take that stuff and you can throw it all in the garbage can, as far as I am concerned." said the voice coming over the telephone.

"All I am saying, Wayne is that we can keep in touch with one another on a different level. It will save both of us money on long distance phone calls," I said.

"Yea, I've heard all that stuff before from other people. Those computers are nothing but trouble and nothing but a big headache," he continued rambling on.

The next day, with a Web TV unit under my arm, I was in my car and headed for the 300-mile trip from Brunswick to Gainesville, Georgia to see Wayne. Wayne and I were roommates in the Children's Home Society Orphanage in Jacksonville, Florida, when we were 7 or 8 years old. This was only the second time we had seen one another. The only other time was at the one reunion we had back in 1991 and that was only for a day.

Though Wayne owns and operates a successful painting business in Gainesville, he has always been a loner. The term ‘loner’ would apply to almost all of us kids who came from that orphanage. Even the ones of us who got married and had families still called ourselves ‘loners.’ I guess that was because we tended to unknowingly separate our families from the mainstream of life.

Wayne's residence was very difficult for me to find. However, after hunting for more than two hours, I was finally able to get directions from the local fire department. It appeared to me that I was in the middle of nowhere when I finally came upon this very steep road, which took a sharp left turn down this hill. I must have slid 30 to 40 yards before my vehicle came to a stop, sideways in the muddy road. There, off in the distance, at the bottom of this treacherous muddy hill sat a rundown single, wide mobile home, with a little dog near the front door.

I noticed two old cars sitting in the dirt driveway, one with its hood up and the other with the passenger door open. As I drove up, there did not appear to be anyone around.

After being snapped at three of four times by the dog, I finally managed to knock on the front door, but there was no answer. I was not sure if there was even anyone at home. The front door was closed and it had an old hasp with a padlock on it, which appeared to be locked.

Getting no answer at the door, I walked back to my truck and sat down in the seat, waiting to see if anyone would arrive. Sure enough about 10 minutes later, a little red car came sliding down the steep road and slid to a stop in the driveway in front of me. I walked around my truck and took out the Web TV unit that I brought for Wayne to use.

I could tell that he was very glad to see me. His eyes shone with glee, but his tone was still that of the old, tired, worn out orphan.

"I see you brought that piece of junk with you," he yelled.

"Don't hurt to give it a try, old man," I told the grumpy, old thing.

Well, it was not easy getting him to sit down to see what a computer could do for him. He hollered, bitched, moaned and complained the entire time I was there. Finally, I gave up and headed back home to Brunswick.

It has been about a year now. It is so strange how a spare, unused Web TV unit that was doing nothing, except sitting on top of my computer desk could change someone's life so drastically.

Wayne now owns and operates a web site building company he named "Eversmasters." There is nothing that he cannot do or build on the web. It is really amazing what he has accomplished. He had several offers from two major corporations asking him to go to work for them, but he refused both offers. I guess he still is and will always be ‘a loner.’

What is so amazing about this story is how you can think you know someone. You think he is just a normal, everyday individual. Then along comes a little black box, which has something magical inside.

Little did 'anyone' know, including Wayne Evers, when I slid down that muddy road that day, that a genesis lived at the bottom of that hill in an old mobile home with a little dog sitting at the front door.

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