Skip to main content

an open letter to apple

To the Good People at Apple,

Hi.  It’s greg.  You remember me, of course.  I’ve owned several of your devices and spent a small fortune in acquiring them over the years.  We’ve owned at least 4 different ipods, and an assortment of iphones and ipads.  It’s like we are family now. 

So, anyway, how’ve you been?  I’ve been okay. Well, actually, not so much.  See, I’ve lost my best mate.  He was always there for me, and seemed to have just what I needed at any particular moment.  When I was happy, he would feed off of that and make me dance.  When I was sad, he would softly whisper and give me space for my sadness to slowly spill out.  He listened to me, and I listened to him.  A lot. 

I loved him deeply.  In fact, we once celebrated his arrival with a cake. 



  see?

I also once wrote an ode to him, and put it on my blog for the whole world to see.  It went like this: 

thank you, o small sleek shuffler of songs,
for your constant companionship.
for the way your screen lights up so vividly,
for the way you contain all the songs of my past and my present.
for the way you rock it out.
for the way you put me to sleep.
for always repeating yourself when i want to hear a song again.
for the way you boom-ta-cat-boom-ta-boom-cat.
for the jazz and the hip hop and the classical and the indie and the hawaiian slack-key guitar.
for the occasional show tune (and for keeping it very occasional).
for fitting in my pocket.
for holding so much.
for reminding me that the songs will stay in my soul even if you end up somewhere else.

Yes, my ipod died.  It just stopped working one day.  I tried to open it up, in some last ditch effort, like a crazed man trying CPR when it is clearly too late.  But the wires and circuit boards inside only made my heart break even more deeply.  I wept.  And I’ve been in mourning ever since. 

It’s been a couple of months, and I’ve been trying to move past this, but I haven’t really been able to.  I thought about trying to get a new ipod, but you no longer make one that can hold my 16,000 songs (please, at this point in the narrative, insert desperate moaning sounds of mourning).  I’ve looked at different options, but nothing is right.  It’s hard to replace a friend. 

I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.  I guess I just needed a friend who might understand what I’m going through.  Thanks for listening. 


greg.

Comments

Thanks, Greg. Sorry for you, but I enjoyed the post.
Why don't they make them anymore?

they don't want you "own" music anymore. they want you to purchase it and store it on the cloud, where you can only access it with an internet connection. so they are selling huge cloud subscriptions, but not hardware with significant storage space. it is the movement of the industry, but it makes this audiophile sad.

Popular posts from this blog

#thoughtsandprayers

i made these comments and prayed the following prayer at one of our worship services at SPWF yesterday, and had a few folks asked if i would post them, so there they are: 
It has been a season of terrible tragedy.  And I have noticed in the news a trending phrase: thoughts and prayers.  It even has its own hashtag on twitter and other social media, but net necessarily in a good way.  People are understandably tired of hearing about others’ thoughts and prayers, when that is only a thinly-veiled way of saying that our only obligation to those who suffer is a brief moment of silence, or nothing more than a tweet or public statement.  The truth is that, for those of us who follow Jesus, much is required when our neighbors suffer.  We are called to do justice where we can, to love kindness and mercy, and to walk with God through it all.  But let us be careful not to throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.  We are, as people of faith, those who know that prayer is not simply an em…

a divided tree

there is a tree in my back yard.  i'm pretty sure it's an oak tree.  at least that's what i think Shannon told me.  i don't know my oaks from my maples, my elms from my locusts.  to me, it's a tree: a corinthian column bursting up into life and glory.  full of sap and pulp and rings and bugs and cells pulsing with water and always reaching for something.  it is full of rhythm, reach and flourish then fall and die, and repeat. 

this particular tree, though, isn't of one mind. 

half of it's rusted orange leaves have given up their grip and surrendered -gracefully or not - to the pull of gravity and the threat of winter.  the north side of this inauspicious oak is just about bare naked, all sticks and straight lines, a skeleton of itself.  but the side that looks south is stubbornly resisting change.  no longer green, the leaves have compromised their summer vibrancy, but they are clearly not ready to concede death just yet. 

i feel like i can relate to this …

thankful right now

"if the only prayer you ever say in your life is 'thank you,' it will be enough." -Meister Eckhart

"thanksgiving is inseparable from prayer." -John Wesley

i've been thinking about gratitude quite a bit this week, and how to foster a thankful spirit in the midst of the barrage of bad news that for me is punctuated by yet another "breaking news" notification on my phone, interrupting the busyness of my day to rudely remind me that the world's brokenness knows nothing of limits or boundaries, not to mention my schedule or sanity.  still, the bad news keeps coming. 

i just scrolled through my most recent notifications just from the last few days and they contain phrases like "crimes against humanity," "57 million users hacked, but not reported," "alleged pattern of sexual abuse," and "extremely disturbing," just to name a few.  how am i supposed to be present at a staff meeting when my phone is buzzing …