My Story: by Elcie
I remember when they unpacked me. They were so excited! Of course the woman who owns me had no clue. Not a clue at all. Her only interaction up to this point had been to watch the boyfriend diddle with his Mac Plus. But when it came time to buy me she said, "This one is mine!"
And thus it became, on a drizzly March day in southern Utah. I was unpacked, and my cables were connected. And from that moment on I've been a complete Mac.
I was her first Mac, and her first color computer. At first, she was afraid to touch me. After all, she had no experience with computers up to this point. She didn't know how strong and sturdy I really am. But each day she would spend a little time intuiting. Caressing my keyboard, examining my applications, peeking into my system folder; still timid, still shy, but becoming bolder day by day. "Baby!, Bayy-bee, Heeellllpppp! she'd shout to the boyfriend, HEEELLLPPPP!" Of course he knew all about me from the inside out. After all, was he not one of the first Maccies on the planet? He'd stand back grinning and say, "It's easy, baby, it's easy! She's a Mac! Use your intuition."
Time passed, as it surely does. But I was there for her. I was there the night her friend was murdered, and she sat in the dark and played countless games of Solitaire till Dawn. I was there when her business was failing, and the easy applications, InTouch and OnAccount helped revive it. I was there when her human partner died, stranding her in more ways than one. String Theory, Sartori, Rose, Flying Toasters, Fish, String Theory, Sartori, Rose, Flying Toasters, Fish, ever changing and comforting, humming in the corner.
There were good times, as well. Friends would come over and say "What's that?" "It's my Mac," she'd reply with pride and affection. "Go ahead, move the mouse, and see what she can do." She was proud of her limited knowledge, and proud when a few of them decided that they simply had to own a Mac. Like she had helped make the world a little bit more productive. It made me proud, too.
I retired January 18, 1999. The Internet, you know. She simply had to have it. But it was time. I watch her now out of the corner of my monitor. She never plays games on that rebuilt 7200 (I still can't believe she got a male computer. But that's another story.) I watch her pop that case and put in RAM (so butch she's gotten), while she still won't replace my battery. But I'm old, I'm tired, I'm slow.
Occasionally on a Sunday morning, she'll drag up a chair and read the old stories she wrote when MacWrite was The Application. She might even play a game or two of Trefoil or Canfield for old times sake. Once in a while, though not so much anymore, I get my Desktop rebuilt.
Still and all, I'm happy humming in the corner. I feel like I could run forever. 'Cause after all, I am a Mac. And you never forget your first love.