Mary Birdsong


Okay… brace yourselves. I RETURNED MY iPAD.


(Cue the firing squad, Anderson Cooper, Dr. Drew, and the nearest nut-house.)  Yup. I returned it.  Don’t want it. Don’t need it. Don’t love it.

It wasn’t broken.  It was just…. not my thing.

There. I said it.  And as scared as I am to cop to this in a public forum, I feel better already.  This blog post is my online confession, and I’m prepared to say as many “Hail Marys” as I need to for absolution.  I’m an ardent Mac enthusiast and a loyal, repeat customer, so it felt downright un-American to tell the nice young man in the blue shirt and hipster glasses that I didn’t want it.  I may as well have said “I want to return this iPad….. and I voted for McCain in 2008.  Oh, and here’s this Somali baby, too.  Want him?”  Images began to form of the local townsfolk chasing me down cobblestone streets holding torches (or maybe iPhones with torch APPS) high in the air, shouting:

“Get her!  She dares insult the memory of our master?!!

Clearly she’s an iWITCH!

the father the son & the holy ghos

She’s an iWitch! Burn her demonic iSoul!

Don’t get me wrong.  The iPad was super-neato. But w/a Macbook Air ANNNND an iPhone already in my possession, the pad just seemed redundant. And before you stone me to death, just know that I bought my mom an iPad as well. For her birthday.  And she isn’t going to return THAT one.  It seems to be her salvation.  She loves it!  And she’s already started to use it on her own with some success.

Wait a minute… Could that be the REAL reason I returned mine?  I did buy both iPads at the same time–  a black one for her and a white one for me; like a his and hers set, but for mom and daughter.  So maybe on some subconscious level, I couldn’t stomach the idea of my mom and me using the same exact computer.  After all, I’ve spent the last 30 years trying to be as DIFFERENT from my dear sweet Mom as possible (no offense, Mommy, if you have mastered the internet enough to actually read this post, but I think most women have a secret fear of turning into their mothers, even if their mom is Jackie O., or Indira Ghandi).  Was this return of the iPad some desperate attempt to distance myself from her once again?  Or did I just wanna spend the $500 on some cute clothes, or some food for that Somalian kid?

My mom actually looks a helluva lot like Miss O. But a kind of South Jersey version.


My mom does NOT look like Indira Ghandi, but HAS been known to wear a babushka from time to time.


Whatever the reason, I hope that when I meet my maker I won’t be judged too harshly for this betrayal.  So pray for me.  And maybe praying to Steve Jobs to intercede on my behalf couldn’t hurt either.  He’s no Blessed Virgin Mary, true, but if he were a woman, I wouldn’t hesitate to place him right next to Jackie O. and Indira Ghandi.  He belongs in such exalted company.   I was surprised by my emotional reaction to the news of his death.  I’m not a tech-fanatic or a gadget whore, but still… I don’t think it was just me who felt that he somehow was OURS; that he belonged to us.   Uncle Steve.  Rest in iPeace, Uncle Steve.

Maaaaaaary.... Whyyyyyyy? Whyyyyy did you betray meeeeee?

P.S. If Steve Jobs’ ghost starts haunting me in the middle of the night, I’d be a-scared, but super flattered.  Just sayin’.

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