A technological love affair

Can I tell you about this time I was utterly and amazingly surprised by a gift? Let me rephrase that: I'm going to tell you about this time I was utterly and amazingly surprised by a gift--the most phenomenal, incredible, and perfect gift. I'm going to tell you about that.

I am not really one to like surprises, and I tend to understate the surprises I do experience. Frankly, surprises frighten me (they actually just frighten my anxiety): what if I react incorrectly? what if I fail to be surprised enough? what if I burst into tears (as has actually happened)? It is, admittedly, a fear based in the awareness of being in the spotlight and the awareness of my own absolute awkwardness. I don't like people focused solely on me when I'm not wholly in control of the situation (so rarely, and gee, don't I sound like a complete and total control freak...). I am an introvert. Teaching presents a problem in this regard, thus, the reason I get sick literally every day I have to teach in front of an on-ground class. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, non-reasons, and the other many times gifts are given can exacerbate this strange anxiety in me. Compliments can do the same--a verbal surprise--that "Oh, yeah...yay?". It's kind of terrible. It was, also, a source of strain when I was growing up. I didn't sit with the kids at Nickelodeon Studios shows or at Disney World because I didn't want to be called on since I never knew what they might literally throw at me. Romantic gestures can be a bit like this, too.

Anyway, I digress.

When I finished graduate school, a strange, surreal experience in and of itself, some of my family and Scott's whole family came to visit us in Chicago to watch me walk across a stage and get handed a diploma (again, I fought my stomach the entire time I waited and then stood in line and then crossed that hard-earned and damnable stage). This was one year after I had completed my (rather overly drawn out) undergraduate degree. I was humbled that everyone wanted to be there to celebrate this accomplishment with us (or even just to see Chicago, which is an amazing city) for which we had both worked so hard to make happen.

I had been warned by Scott a few days ahead of time that there was a large-ish purchase coming through the bank account and that he would keep an eye on finances since my checking would possibly reveal the secret he was working on. I agreed, and actually stuck with it. It probably helped that I was so busy wrapping things up at school, job hunting, readying for family, and other things that I had no time to check in on the accounts.

Graduation happened. I waited around that day, I walked the stage, I met the family after, I celebrated with friends, and it was a happy time all around. Once we finally found ourselves back at the apartment,it was a celebration of me. All eyes on me. Robes were discarded, congratulations given, floors and couches flopped down upon in utter relief and exhaustion. And then the presents. There was a box, larger, squarer, and very present in the living room.

Scott handed that box to me, and I think the paper was halfway off before I squealed and launched myself at him, bear hugging him and that box, and asking, "For real? It really is?!"  It was a raw reaction, without hesitation.

The family sat perplexed. It was a white box in the shape of a book with gray lettering.

"Well, what is it?" my dad asked.

And in my reverence, I breathed, "A Kindle. It's a Kindle."

Nestled inside, perfectly pristine in all its technological glory was a first generation Kindle. They had released only a month before, and I was now the proud owner of one.  This was THE KINDLE! I was so enamored and amazed that I took it to the bar that night to show off. Amid the beer, the exhaustion of post-grad school, the others handled it like we had just been given the Holy Grail. It was that new and held so many promises.

It was, and still possibly is, the best gift. It spoke of love, of late nights, of words and promises. It was a gift that was from the heart. I love books, their smell, their feeling. But I love my Kindle (now on my second one after I wore out the first one), and its capacity to store, to save, to hide. I could live without my phone, but not my Kindle.


**I love print books, and we still frequent independent bookstores. We are constantly building our physical library with these books. I do buy physical books after reading them on my Kindle so I have a copy always (in the event that it all ends or the information goes away or I no longer have access to my Amazon account).