Graduation Day

I hesitate to say this but I finally bought myself a real iPod. Up until a few weeks ago, all I had to stifle the circus noises emanating through the GO trains on my daily commutes was an early generation shuffle. It is nothing like the newer versions that come in an array of vibrant colours, oh no, it is a plain white stick of engineering marvel. I can still remember thinking how cool I was walking to, from and through the halls of my high school sporting a Sony walkman that was just a fraction bigger than the cassette tape providing the heavy riffs of Metallica and Megadeth stuffed in my shirt pocket.

After the introduction of the new “Touch” version and the lowered prices due to the strong dollar, I watched the Future Shop flyers and website religiously. I knew I could rationalize buying an iPod now and I had my eyes on the classic. Even though the boxing week sales did not really affect the prices of the real iPod’s, I finally obtained the gold at the end of the rainbow. Aside: I reached the end of a rainbow once and there was no pot of gold – was I at the wrong end perhaps?
With my new 80GB iPod Classic copying songs from my computer, I was left to ponder what was to come of my shuffle. I couldn’t turn my back on her and allow her to be a show piece to collect dust by my computer. After all, she treated me well for two or three years. The sweet music contained inside the engineering marvel kept the stories of Sally’s haemorrhoids and Phil’s golf game since he bought new clubs from irritating me to no end. And for that great and noble service, I had to find a good use for my battered shuffle.

By the time my entire music collection was transferred to my classic, I had come up with a brilliant idea that I knew would fill my aging shuffle with a renewed sense of duty and self worth. My shuffle graduated from being a source of joy and entertainment to a guardian of secret script. It has now become my new flash drive. Instead of music it now holds files and documents and anything else that I may need to keep close to me…like the secret of the Caramilk bar. By being put to this new use, my shuffle is not only saved from becoming some forgotten piece of technology but has gained what can be seen as a more important role. I like to think that my shuffle graduated to a higher role.

Before certain people get the wrong idea, I really do not have the secret of the Caramilk bar so please call off the dogs and the Gestapo; I am no wiser than the next person as to how they get the caramel into the Caramilk bar. I am still waiting for the secret to be revealed on How It’s Made but I guess if there ever was a show on Caramilk, they would likely say the method for adding the smooth flowing caramel is a company secret.