Sure, you’ve probably seen her–small, delicate, shiny and black. Distinguishing marks? Intel Inside sticker, coffee stained keyboard. Medical alert – needs adaptor after six hours.
I should have known that after seeing my glovebox down when boarding my trusty Ford explorer last week, that something was wrong. I glanced around the front and back and nothing seemed to missing. Which, if you’ve seen the back 3/4 of my vehicle, is unfortunate because it is full of boxes, event and promo materials, clothing and other gee-gaws that drive along with me as if I were Mr. Haney from Green Acres.
Nothing really out-of-place, so I continued. By the next morning, I would arrive at my workplace where I’d use my laptop. I reached for it in the storage bag and it wasn’t there. I was sure at that point that it was either at my abode or left at my employer’s house. This would prove not to be the case.
I lock my vehicle 99% of the time, leaving that 1% open for error. There was no broken glass, nothing else missing – that I’m aware of –and it was taken at one of three Highlands locations: The Valu Market parking lot at the Mid-City Mall, street parking at my apartment building on Edgeland Ave. or my employer’s house on Carolina Ave.
My laptop, only two years into my endless photo collecting, Facebooking and articles was gone. Oddly enough, the picky burglar had left behind a brand spankin’ new Blackberry knock-off, some nice home furnishings, box of new winter socks and a thousand booklets on natural birth and breastfeeding. Well, that’s covering a lot of ground. When you break into a doula’s vehicle, you never know what reading material you’ll find. Plus, they left the wall adaptor behind. That’s easily remedied but I’m sure they’re looking for a quick and easy turnabout.
The Dell was a gift from my friend and employer. I was their doula at the births of their two children and have been their nanny for just over four years. The laptop, affectionately named “Dellie” by his son, my four-year -old charge, Nicholas,who will miss her most of all. Since he was old enough to eek out my password by pecking out each letter with his tiny fingers, we enjoyed countless hours of YouTube on Dellie’s tiny screen.
Some days with Nicholas meant Shrek or the Muppets in the morning and Paul Simon in the afternoon. Yes, he loves Paul Simon (who is Muppet-sized), as well as folksinger Melanie, the Beatles and ELO. He liked ELO the most because it was easiest to spell.
I took Dellie along in my doula tool bag as I attended births over the past two years. Since hospitals are now Wi-Fi, it was a great thing to key in my observations, concern and joy as so many babies came into the world.
The most important thing in the contraption were the digitally recorded voices from my family reunion this past summer. The words of my uncle and aunt, now patriarch and matriarch of my mother’s side of the family, were precious to me. The spoke candidly and wisely of our family as grandbabies and toddler squealed in the background and the laughter of cousins rang out through the two-hour recording. Tall tales, short stories and messages of love and hope were all downloaded into their own file. The computer may be replaced but my Aunt Freda and her brother Orville are our elders and cannot. I would love to cherish those voices in years to come and eBay or Craig’s List doesn’t offer that option.
So, all that has either been wiped or is remaining in the Inspiron brain of the machine herself. She was slow, not too easy to read (cuz I’m old), and was in need of oatmeal and juice de-crusting. Maybe the new owner won’t like baby pictures or stories from The Highlander. Is it naive of me to hope someone opens a file and decides to find me? Yeah, probably.
In the last few days, I have heard other Highlands residents talk of white Ford explorers being burgled, several of them in the Highlands-Douglass neighborhood. This was included in my report to the Louisville Police Dept. I’m not sure who I want to find first, the crooks or the computer. Maybe both. There I go again.
