iPod, My iPod

My iPod and I are going to the Apple Store tomorrow and it doesn't look good.  The Classic - the strange, sleek game changer that started it all -- is now scrapped to the "so yesterday" pile and it may be time to take it off charger support. 

But dammit, we had some great times. 

Admittedly , the current model  was not my only Classic. I routinely upgraded when new models had more storage and newer operating systems. Sure I passed the old ones around to my family and friends when I was through with them and there was the one I left on the car roof and ran over -- but that doesn't make me a bad person- does it?

I've been good to 160GB incumbent.  I use it only for music. I take a smaller model to the gym and when I'm out walking. I listen to podcasts on my iPhone. I only play it on good speakers. All I ask is that it contain most of my 18,000 song  music library.  I can't believe the hard drive just gave up on me like this. 

Yes, my entire library is Matched and Clouded and I can fit at least a day of playlists on the lesser vessel, but the magic of having ANY song I wanted in the palm of my hand was an absurd pleasure.  This is my personal soundtrack. 

All those boxes of CDs donated to Goodwill on the last move -- they're in there.  Several days of Dad's favorite Christmas music -- check. Texans tailgating music segregated by playlist from the very different Buffalo Bills tailgating music -- check. Soaring classical sounds from my symphony days..Silly songs that made grandson Jacob laugh. Thousands of singer songwriter tunes that I loved to discover and you've probably never heard of. The music that played in the Reilly Center at St . Bonaventure socials. Tunes for a rainy day on the cottage porch or easy hours on the water. Selections that pair with good wine and others that work better with be  Jello shots. 

It was all there.

We were at a fundraiser recently when the event photographer asked if we wanted to have a picture shot with a hashtag frame by starting with "Do your children or grandchildren have Twitter or Instagram? They'll know what to do with these shots." I told him I had both -- and  couldn't believe I called him a "whippersnapper" in my head. I wanted to lay out my tech cred. Show him my short, early-beta gmail address and tell him I was blogging before his mother let him have a computer in his room.  But I just posed with an anachronistic sneer. 

That look he gave us is the same one the hipster at the Genius Bar will give me tomorrow when I lay my baby in his or her hands. They'll speak very slowly as they explain that I can have all my music in the Cloud and get to it anytime.  

And because they are my only shot at reviving my precious and obsolete pal -- I won't slug them.