When I was 13 I won a ribbon at the school science fair and moved on to the county competition.

I have a few snapshot memories about the exhibits, but most of what I learned I got from my own project before the fair commenced.

My father subscribed to Scientific American, saving and cataloging issues in his orderly way, and he shared some of what he read with me. Especially the science games section. And that season featured a simple learning computer.

So while my peers were building slide rules in base 7 or presenting dissected cats (I’ll never forget the smell of formaldehyde over those exhibits, regularly sprayed by the exhibiting students, indoors mind you), I assembled a “computer” that learned how to play tic tac toe.

It was a construction of matchboxes with jujubes inside. On top of each box was affixed a postage label, and on the label was a drawing of the tic tac toe grid with a possible move displayed. I’d have to look up the project to provide details, but the learning was a simple procedure. Every time the computer lost, I removed a jujube from the box that made the losing move. The computer’s ability to make a move depended on how many jujubes were in the box. Simply put, winning moves survived to play again but losing moves soon lost their chance.

After a remarkably small number of games it became impossible for the computer to lose. Every attempt resulted in a draw or a computer win.

It was so simple. Looking at progress and results, it absolutely appeared to be designed, logical, taught. Being in it, it was clearly a case of making one’s way as well as one could, one choice at a time.

I only took Honorable Mention at the county level because my display was unimpressive. My posterboard wasn’t big and my colors weren’t bold. A visitor had to cozy up to my project and read about it. By contrast, my friend Martha won a ribbon. She was into sewing and mounted a bunch of textile samples on a posterboard that must have been six feet high. Eyecatching.