Steve Jobs died yesterday. I am not an Apple groupie, but our house has been relatively Applized. Those closest to me know I am unnaturally attached to my iPod. My iPod listens to me. It keeps track of my likes and prioritizes them. It keeps me entertained, organized and on time. If it was a man, I’d marry it.
I’m on my third unit. I dropped my first one. When the liquid crystal display cracked and started to bleed, I was nearly brought to tears. My second one died from sheer exhaustion. My current one has learned to pace itself. My husband has an iPhone, known affectionately in our household as “The Fancy Phone.” My daughter has a nano and if our dog had thumbs, she’d have one, too.
The death of Steve Jobs was like losing a modern day Gepetto. He figured out what people wanted and delivered it. The iPod has become such a part of modern life that MP3 jacks are now standard equipment in most new cars. When my friends pull out an iPad, we still paw around it like monkeys.
People are sad and the tributes are pouring in, because his inventions touched our lives. There will never be another Mr. Jobs. Rest in peace, Podfather.
