True Story about an old computer and me.
I sold a 75mhz PC a couple of years ago. While at a yard sale, I spotted the same computer sitting on a table. It had a parallel port photo scanner, cheap HP inkjet printer, and a new 6.3gig hard drive.
I had upgraded the bios with a new one from Mr. Bios and also had added 80megs of RAM before I sold it for $500. I had originally paid $2,250 cash for this Windows 3.11 system w/ mid tower case and Sampo 14in (bubble) monitor in 1994. The monitor had been replaced with a used Gateway flat-screen (15in Sony Trinitron). My security sticker still on the case.
After I told my story to the strange old man which seemed astonished, we opened up the dusty case, and I showed him where I had accidently cut my hand on the sharp edge several years ago while adding the RAM. The evidence was still there -- my type a-neg was still visible like a logo that read MyDNA Inside! A deep dark red almost black dried spot in the bottom of the system's unit.
[ Thoughts ran through my mind about future generations and technology involving DNA and how valuable it would be in the future. Fears about how an evil person could use my dna to frame me for a rape or murder. ]
After hearing my story, the old man thought for a while and said that he had just purchased a new computer and no longer need the old one. "It's been a good one, but I tell you what" -- a long silence came over him. I could almost here him say "i found a pigeon and I'm going to make $500 off this old computer!" Then with a very penetrable voice he said, "you can have it!"
I drove home but was too tired to setup the system when I arrived. I have learned a lot from this experience, and believe that it is possible that a computer or some device can become a part of you. Maybe it's just me, but have you ever sold an inanimate object and felt regret? An old car that you missed, or perhaps you loaned one of your favorite books to a friend that he conveniently forgot to return?
While growing up with my mom and younger sister, we moved from town to town and school to school. Never settling down or taking a rest. During each move I would lose something, a letter or Christmas card, a skate board, the list goes on... I have always admired those TV family's who lived in the same house their whole lives for generations. They had attics filled with treasures from the past. One day, one of the kids would discover this wasteland full of artifacts and some old relative would walk in and tell them a story in detail that was linked to each item in the exhibit.
These days I never sell anything or throw anything away. My wife thinks I'm an old miser or some crazy fanatic that clutters up the house with old junk. I have a place now to store my DNA among other things of little value to others. A place to store my worldly possessions -- the attic!
Jay Daniels
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