This is the time of the year when I wish I were still a kid. It's not so much that I miss having hair --- worse things have been lost. Christmas has lost some of its magic for me.

As usual, I blame technology.

At my house, my wife will get a nice new Palm, a midget computer that will soon get lost with the rest of the stuff in her purse. It's practical. In her real estate job, it'll take the place of a cellphone and a financial calculator. Her Palm includes a phone. So what could make more sense than replacing a bunch of gadgets with just one?

That's the trouble with buying technology gadgets as a holiday gift --- whether it's a new computer or a fancy cellphone. It all makes sense and is very practical. Even the arguments for a big-screen TV are logical. After all, the world is moving to high-definition broadcasts, and sooner or later the family will need a television like that.

I'd give anything to find a model airplane or electric train under the tree this year.

But my gifts almost certainly will be practical. I hope yours won't be.

I was worrying about all this the other day as I sat outside on an uncommonly warm evening. I had just returned from the mailbox by the street, and my lap was full of catalogs laden with iPods with storage memories large enough to hold every song written since 1954. There were flat-screen monitors that cost more than my first car. The centerfold was a big uninterruptible power supply that --- if the electricity goes out --- will keep your computer going.

Before I owned an uninterruptible power supply, I used those occasions to take a nap. But now, after getting one as a gift, I can keep on working. Technology has no sense of humor at all.

That's why I was sitting on the porch, worried about the holidays. I felt a little hopeless, because the presents are all purchased by now at my house and probably at yours, too.

Then I realized that there was a way that technology could be romantic and warm. Best yet, it's not too late. In fact, it's the perfect time. It's a way to save Christmas.

Just take a deep breath, and we'll cook up a holiday miracle together --- we will build it from transistors, chips and the occasional DVD drive. It's not easy, even for a certified wizard of technology such as myself. So I need your help.

Here's what I propose, as a way to ungrinch the holidays:

Let's take some of our old technology and find new homes for it. Sometimes the very best thing a person can do with an old computer is to give it away.

That old computer isn't worth much if you try to sell it. But it is something precious in the right hands. If you ask around, you'll find someone who would treasure it. You may need to spend some time asking questions at your church, at a school or even at an organized charity. But going to a little trouble is half the joy of this high-tech miracle we are building together. Instead of worrying about tax deductions and finding the most convenient way to get rid of the computer, turn this into a quest.

Think of it. There are old people --- maybe in your own family --- who would be able to use the computer as a way to exchange e-mail with family and friends. Browsing on the Web will let them travel to places where their legs can no longer go.

Or maybe there is a kid living in a family where a winter coat is a luxury. The gift of a computer would be --- well --- a miracle. Go find those kids and give them the computer.

You can throw in the software, too. That's perfectly legal as long as you remove those same programs from your own computer. Giving away a program is no different --- as far as the law --- from giving a book or a CD you no longer want.

This holiday miracle isn't limited to computers. Now that DVD players are so cheap, you may be replacing one of those. Or you could have a television that works just fine but has been pushed out of the den by a fancy plasma screen. Give that old-but-serviceable sucker away. Find it a new home where it will shine.

I know I'm asking a lot of you.

What I am suggesting is a heck of a lot more difficult than writing a check to your favorite charity. Don't get me wrong: I'm not against writing checks to charities.

My holiday miracle is in addition to that, not a way to replace it.

This is a sure-fire miracle. There are times when I write about installing a hard disk or hooking up a new printer. You may faithfully follow my directions but still end up with a disaster. But this time, I promise. If you follow these directions, you will fix something more important than a computer.

tecbud@ajc.com