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I can't pinpoint exactly when I first encountered Visual Basic, but the memory of discovering it remains crystal clear. It was probably in the pages of PC Magazine or PC World – those glossy tech magazines I used to devour cover to cover, dreaming about the possibilities hidden in their pages.
One holiday season (the details are fuzzy on whether it was Christmas or my birthday), my parents gave me what would become my gateway into programming: the Visual Basic 4 box set. This wasn't just any software package – it was a behemoth that came with three massive manuals and a CD. Looking back, I can still feel the weight of that box in my hands, the excitement of cracking open those manuals for the first time.
Like many kids of that era, I initially dreamed of creating video games. But reality has a way of shifting our perspectives, and even at that young age, I quickly realized that the real money wasn't in games – it was in business applications. It's funny how pragmatic we can be, even as children.
My first "commercial" success was humble but meaningful: a customizable clock application for a call center. The users could modify every visual aspect of it. Was it groundbreaking? Hardly. But it was mine, and I still feel a surge of pride thinking about it. It was the first time someone saw value in something I'd created with code.
What really captured my imagination, though, was the Windows operating system itself, particularly the 16-bit era. I became obsessed with Explorer.exe and its predecessor, Progman.exe. The idea that you could fundamentally alter how a computer looked and behaved by tweaking a few files was mind-blowing to me.
This fascination was sparked by seeing a friend's Packard Bell computer running a custom Windows 3.1 shell. It was a simplified interface designed for newcomers, but to me, it represented something more profound – the malleability of software. I also remember seeing Norton Desktop on other Windows 3.1 machines, which further cemented my interest in desktop customization.
Through experimentation, I discovered you could replace the default shell (Progman.exe or Explorer.exe) with other programs. While I never created anything revolutionary with this knowledge, the sheer thrill of understanding it was possible was intoxicating. It's that moment of revelation that many programmers live for – when you realize the true extent of what you can create or modify.
Time has a way of scattering our past. The VB4 CD disappeared somewhere along life's journey, and though I carefully packed those three precious manuals when moving into my first house, they've vanished into the mysterious void where missing belongings go. There must have been a mix-up during the move, but part of me hopes they'll turn up someday, tucked away in some forgotten box.
These days, I maintain a collection of classic software and operating systems. The Visual Basic 4 box set holds a special place on my wishlist – not because I need it for practical purposes, but because it represents something more meaningful. It's a tangible link to those formative moments when I first discovered the joy of programming.
Looking back, Visual Basic 4 wasn't just a programming language or a piece of software – it was my introduction to the vast possibilities of technology. It taught me that with enough curiosity and determination, you could create something from nothing, solve real problems, and maybe even make a living doing it.
While modern development environments might be more sophisticated, there was something special about those early days of discovery. The limitations of the tools forced us to be creative, to really understand what was happening under the hood. Sometimes I miss that simplicity, though I certainly don't miss debugging without modern tools!
That big box of Visual Basic 4 might be gone, but the passion for programming it ignited continues to burn. It's a reminder that sometimes the most significant influences in our lives come packaged in unexpected ways – even in the form of three manuals and a CD.
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