Retiring the Discman

It was June of 2001. I was heading north to cottage country, embarking on the adventure that would be late-night laundry. And so I visited my local electronics store, handed over 120 of my hard-earned book-shelving dollars, and bought myself a Discman. (Actually, it was a Panasonic portable CD player. Sony owns the rights to "Discman." But I digress.)

I spent that summer wearing a padded belt around my waist, listening to CDs on repeat for 8-to-10-hour intervals. Not once did my player skip. Not once did it let me down. And so I let it stick around.

Fast-forward 7 years.

It is 2008. I climb on the Greyhound with that same padded case that holds three lonely CDs. I carry what now looks like a clunky piece of outdated technology, still superbly functional. Friends ask, "Do they actually let you on the bus with that?" This is all I have. I use a Discman in the age of mp3s. The world went digital; I still lug around extra AAs.

And then came yesterday. I had temporarily forgotten that next Sunday is my birthday. Which meant that my visit to the family farm would include people handing me cake and cards and presents. Really, I would have been delighted just to spend the afternoon with my cousins, playing Scrabble and scarfing down homemade burgers.

It is no exaggeration to say I was shocked. My fabulous family super-generously contributed to my becoming less technologically pathetic: I am now in need of a name for my lovely new iPod Nano. I may be in love.

He's cute, no?

Some serious uploading is in my future. As is downloading. Have you heard of this thing called "iTunes"? Where has it been all my life?

Excuse me as I go listen to music like a cool kid.

Nano, meet Brooke Fraser, Sam Roberts, Josh Ritter and Bebo Norman. Tomorrow, you shall meet Bono.

Have I ever mentioned that I have the best family in the world? 'Cause I do.