Resurrection of an iPod

Just a few days ago, I was despondent over the loss of my 20GB iPod Photo. Since I had nothing to lose, I decided to Google for a way to get it to work.

Yes, I was going to hack it! It was only a doorstop anyway, and I was not about to pay some goof $250 to crack it open for me. You can find the forums on iPod hacking yourself, they are everywhere. Most sites agreed that if you popped open the case and made sure the wires were seated, it would magically be cured. I was skeptical, but I tried it. It took me a bit to pry the case open with a screwgie, but I did succeed in doing so. Once it was open I sent a puff of air, like God's own breath, into the machine to clear out the dust and whatnot. Darn if it didn't make the hard drive start spinning immediately. That was three days ago.

Now I have two iPods! Yeah!

Death of an iPod

My 20GB iPod Photo is dead. Mort. It acted strangely the past month, freezing up with some version of electronic ague. Sometimes upon waking, the screen would just give me a sad face accompanied by an explanation point as if saying "I am gravely ill!" At those times, the little fellow could not muster enough strength to launch. The incidents became very frequent, to the point I decided to visit a Genius Bar at the Apple Store in Omaha, Nebraska.

When I arrived at the store, a demonstration of Garage Band was in full effect. A bunch of little kids sat at the bar while three odd-looking grownups, none of whom I would trust alone with a pre-teen, showed them how to create their own music on an Apple. One grungy looking male hipster employee was even dancing during the presentation. Okay, enough of that. Where is my Genius?

My appointment was at 6:00 pm. I was five minutes late, because I had just arrived from Chicago and came straight from the airport. I thought I had the trip timed, but I was five minutes late instead of five minutes early, and thus concerned that my appointment would be cancelled and I would be sniffed at by the Geniuses.

Tim the Genius greeted me with a smile and dismissed the apology on my tardiness with a wave of the hand. No worries, woo. He was a mid-twenties kid with a shock of red hair and an orange polo over the ubiquitous white tee shirt. While I was explaining the malady my iPod was experiencing, Tim tried to turn him on, and rubbed along his sides, all the while nodding and staring at the machine. He said he suspected I had been tampering with the iPod, that it felt as if it had been opened. Of course not was my reply. It feels so at the seams, that is why I ask, he replied, not accusingly.

Then Tim gave me the diagnosis. Imminent death. He put it up to his ear, concentration furrowing his brow. I do not hear the hard drive spinning. It seems like it wants to, but can't. You can have it repaired for about $250, either by Apple or a third party of your own choosing, but it is not worth it, in my opinion. As he spoke these words I kind of stared at him dumbly, as if some doctor was telling me my mother died. My thoughts were this is a movie, this can't be real, she's not dead. What is this?

Before I knew it I was outside again, walking to my car, the faint odor of manure in my nostrils, for there are many cows on the outskirts of Omaha.

When I returned home, I created a small playlist out my library and loaded it onto my kid's unused 2GB nano. Will life ever be the same without all of my music on me at all times? How much will I miss iPod Photo? Time heals all wounds.