Even my grandmother has an iPad.
Before my grandfather died, my grandparents each had their own Mac, their screens facing each other as they sat at their respective second-floor desks. My grandfather’s computer was surrounded by volumes of his chemistry books and patents of his own design, while my grandmother’s was framed by a window looking out onto Muddy Cove. These were Apple people, and though I was a PC devotee in my earlier years, I enjoyed disrupting the tyranny of solitaire on their machines to play Ingemar’s Skiing Game during summer visits.
Every few years, they would upgrade to better and better Macs. My grandmother, a former teacher, mastered all manner of patience games, many bearing exotic names like Spider and Klondike. In addition to playing solitaire, she could send and receive email, check the news, monitor the weather, and waste time on Facebook. She was, if not a power user, perfectly competent.