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Kirk Hiner's
"When thinking
differently just isn't
different enough."
Love Death and Trees
By Kirk
Hiner
Writers have always taken inspiration from nature. This
is no secret. Clear back when I was in high school--back
before my skull had fully hardened--I realized that all
poems are about one of three things; love, death or trees.
Trees, in my theory, covers all that which affects them.
Wind, rain, sun, dogs, bulldozers...anything that either
aids or hinders their quest to provide the Earth with life.
And it's in these elements that I got the inspiration for
this month's article. It's a little heavy this month, so
bear with me as I approach my point(s).
It starts in New York City, where I once heard someone
say that Manhattan has the best autumns in the world. This
kind of statement could come only from someone who has never
actually left New York. Call me a loyalist, but I'll take my
Ohio autumns any year.
I was reminded why in early October when I returned from
work to find my phone ringing. The monitor for my G4 had
arrived that day, and I wanted to spend the rest of my
evening just admiring it. But Tieraney, my fiancee, was on
the other end of the call. She was at a hospital near where
I lived, as her sister, it would seem, was about to finally
have her baby.
"It'll be born by the time you get here," she said.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"She's dilated to 9.5" Tieraney explained.
"On a scale of?" I persisted.
Tieraney seemed confused. "I don't know."
"I mean, does your sister dilate to ten, or does this one
go to eleven?"
Sadly, my Spinal
Tap reference was all but lost on Tieraney, so I quit
telling jokes and just left for the hospital. Now earlier
that day, the sky had turned the sort of greenish-black
that's normally reserved for aliens in horror movies, and
the rain beat down with purpose. Mother Nature had let up by
the time I got home from work, and as I made my way to the
hospital, the weather finally broke. The result was nothing
short of dynamic. It was the kind of sky that makes you want
to pull over to the side of the road and just watch it
develop.
To the north, the overcast skies were still a deep, dark
gray like...well, like a PowerBook. But to the south, the
clouds had opened up into towering pillars of blue and
orange like...like the iBooks.
But the Mac analogies don't stop there. Oh no. Just take
a look at the gaming industry in October. We saw the stormy
reactions of fans to having Half-Life pulled and the
announcement that there would be no Homeworld port. But
across the horizon, all was sunnier as Tomb Raider III was
released and we were told of a port of Heavy Metal FAKK 2.
Think I'm done yet? I've only started. Need I even remind
you of the hurricane force winds that rose up from Mac users
everywhere over Apple's moronic announcement that they were
going to ship computers 50MHz slower than promised, but at
the original cost? Our cries of foul rolled out like
thunder, and Apple reversed their original bone-headed
decision. The skies cleared, and all was sunny once
more...although I, for one, will never again step out into a
bright morning without at least pausing by the umbrella.
After all, had Microsoft pulled this stunt, we would've been
relentless in our attacks. I can only imagine the MacAddict
headlines that hypothetical day.
Finally, I reached the hospital. And do you know what? No
baby. Poor Tracy had been dilated at 9.5 for a couple hours
now, and her family was starting to fall apart faster than
those three kids in the
Black Hills Forest.
It got to the point where one member of the Clan Patterson
accused the doctors of not knowing what they were doing.
Let's see. The doctors have collectively gone through
more years of schooling than most of us in the waiting room
had spent standing upright. They've delivered babies day-in
and day-out, we've never even delivered mail.
I found this sudden baby-delivery-omnipotence to be quite
comical, but then it took me right back the Mac. As a
journalist, I spend a good deal of time second guessing
Apple and Mac software companies in general. I read hundreds
of emails from Mac gamers crying conspiracy because this
game or that isn't receiving a Mac port. Yet what knowledge
do most of us have of the business? Only that we want what
we can't have. But quite often, that can be a more powerful
motivator than even revenue. When the Pattersons complained
about the doctors, it was because they wanted be sure of the
health of both Tracy and who would eventually, at 9.7 lbs,
become a bouncing, baby Killian Patrick Schilliday.
So I've now covered love and "trees," and it's with deep
regret that I have to reach the third. Whereas the month
started with the birth of the boy who will soon be my
nephew, it ended with the death of the greatest man I've
ever known. I will spare you all my reminisces of Earl
Jones, a man you've never met, and I won't cheapen his life
nor what I write with comments about how none of this
computer stuff really matters in the long run. If there's
one thing Earl taught me, it's that all of this matters.
Love matters. Death matters. Trees matter. And even Apple
computer matters, so long as it's important to you. And the
more passion you have for all of these, the better off we'll
all be.
I end this article with someone else's thoughts that
currently reflect my own. I always tend to leave the poetry
to poets, so, in the words of Roger Taylor:
And so I raise my glass in a last goodbye
Sleep in peace, old friend. For me you'll never die
The best thing I can say after all this time
Is you were a real friend of mine
Take care, Earl. More so than anyone I've ever known, you
mattered.
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