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The lid of the seventy year old stove creaked reluctantly as I pushed it up and ducked my head under. Dust and the smell of distant eggshells wafted up as I relit the stove with the long reach matches from our landlord Mary Alice. A few years ago, when we woke up to the unpleasant smell for almost a week straight, we had learned the pilots tended to get blown out by gentle breezes. Now, this little piece of knowledge was to get filed in the “no longer useful” category in my brain, along with bits like how to keep the sink and tub drains draining (never use without at least one trap), when to change the screens out for the storm windows (earlier than you think; the days quickly get cold), how to avoid the water hammer (turn the water on more than you think you need), how much to turn down the heat (a Pendleton and a down comforter were musts), how to stay cool when the power went out in the summertime (good luck… meditation?), the trick to shutting the front door (humidity dependent), which outlets dropped cord prongs from them like leaves in fall, and which appliances tripped the breaker if used in concert.
In 1999, I was exploring this new, amazing thing: the world wide web. I wasn’t an active participant in any social areas like Slashdot nor was I a gamer. Instead, I mostly kept to myself, fascinated as I was with how this world wide web thing worked. You see, growing up, if my toys had any screws on them, I would inevitably find the appropriate tiny screwdriver and open them up. I was consistently disappointed that there was little for me to do other than replace the plastic cover I had removed.
My father grew up in Rochester, Minnesota when it was considered the best place in the United States to grow up. Anchored by IBM, his neighborhood thrived during post-war prosperity; neighbors got together to make a pool — he recalls them pulling their lawn hoses out to it to fill it at the beginning of the season. Summer afternoons gave way to late nights of playing and inventing every game. Similarly, my mom grew up running about a safe and happy neighborhood, caring for the wild cats who befriended her and her siblings, driving Honda dirt bikes fixed up by her father in the field across the road from where they lived. Come to think of it, I don’t know as many stories as I’d like from my parent’s childhood.
After nearly 7 years accident free, Mykala accidentally spilled coffee on her laptop. We took it apart, cleaned the entire thing, put it back together, and it worked… for 4 minutes. This is the last picture of the laptop before it went to the laptop farm. We will miss you, you were a wonderful computer.
I do weird things now, things I never consciously realized would be a part of my life. I clean trash cans. Sort mail. Go to the store to purchase toilet paper. Clean out the fridge. It’s fascinating that, though you have relatively little freedom as a young person, you have a very unique freedom from these adult responsibilities.
I should be studying right now. I wonder what I’ll remember from this time of my life when I look back. Will I remember freaking out in my first year? Will I remember the endless parade of exams in my second year? Or will I focus on my very first patients and my learning to be a clinician in my third?
Your favorite places aren’t that way because of their things and stuff, but because of their people.
Fraction Rap - They’re rapping about fractions! Square One TV! Thanks, Katy.
A recent article in PC World about the top 10 worst computers of all time names Packard Bell machines (specifically, those built between 1986-1996) to be the worst ever. Guess what brand of computer we bought in 1992? That’s right! A Packard Bell! It is funny to recall those days, though, when computers were the Next Big Thing. It was amazing that our computer was “multimedia”—pumping out sound and video at the same time! It printed! The screen was in color! We marveled at clips from the San Diego Zoo, and later entertained ourselves playing Where in the World is Carmen San Diego. I learned about ctrl+alt+del, too.