OK. It's all sorted.

My computer is repaired. It took four days and cost $350. but I'm back in business. Hard disk failure. Who knows why. I'm very disapponted at the loss of so much data: Photos of friends and family. Music. Movies. Poetry. Lots of stuff. I lost my sermon too, but fortunately, my ego had printed it so I could share it with friends. God bless my ego.

My nerd was here for six hours yesterday. He returned this afternoon for another two hours. He replaced my HD - mine was 60 GB - with an 80 GB model. He took my old hard drive away and "repaired" it. I have it now although it's not wired into the computer. So I now have 60 GB of free space on my new HD, and another 60 gigs on a disk as yet unused. This is good. But I'm still mourning the loss of my irretrievable writing and photos.


His name was Haroon. A very helpful nerd.

---

Last Saturday, I drove to Acton to get my kids. I promised I'd be there at 11:00 and I was. The kids were ready - indeed excited - to go. Dan climbed into the front seat with me as he's always done. Meagan knew her place was in the back seat. We chatted happily as we drove through the light rain and fog. The humidity acted to exacerbate the heat. In just under an hour, we parked in front of Steve's Music on Queen St. in Toronto. That's where we got Dan's guitar last winter.

Meagan is a careful shopper. She likes to take her time when considering a purchase. Her brother, however, is a typical male shopper.

"This one, Meagan," he pleaded after waiting impatiently for twenty minutes. "Get this one. It's fantastic. Just right for you."

He held a shiny red folk-style guitar above his head.

"This one's only 119 bucks, Dad. And look at it. It's red. Meagan, it's red!"

She acknowledged her brother's observation and continued to peruse the racks of hanging instruments. Finally, she found one that she fancied.

"This one's pretty good, Dad," she said, pointing to a plain-looking guitar. "It's a good colour. And it's the cheapest one I could find. I like this one."

The fact that Meagan was concerned with the price did not go unnoticed, believe me. Dan would have tried to get every penny he could out of dear old Dad.

"What do you think, Dan-boy?" I asked him. "Does that one seem like a good guitar?"

"Yeah, Dad. It's good. They're all good. Let's go. I'm hungry."

Meagan put him in his place.

"Daniel," she said, "I asked you to come with us today so you could help me choose the proper guitar. All you're doing is trying to hurry us up and convince me to buy something I don't like. You're not helping me at all."

The Boy tried to defend his position, but he knew it was pointless.

"Let her choose, Dan," I told him. "Help her choose. Don't force her to decide."

A sales clerk intervened then.

"Actually, that's the poorest quality guitar we stock. That's why it's the cheapest. You'd get a lot better quality for only ten or twenty dollars more."

Dan nodded his head in a sudden change of heart.

"Yeah, Meagan. That one's prob'ly crap. You should start out with something better. You know ... For you first guitar, I mean."

"But this is the one I like best," said Meagan. "I like the natural wood colour."

The clerk explained to us that the appearance was the least important of three factors to consider; he counted them off on stubby fingers.

"How it sounds. How it feels in your hands. And then how it looks."

I watched my daughter's discomfort as it coloured her face. Even her perfect little ears were rosy. She turned her face down and spoke to the carpet.

"OK. So I'm learning about guitars today. I honestly don't know anything about them. Except I want one."

I wanted to say something to mitigate her discomfort. I wanted to defend her somehow, to take away her embarrassment. But I understood that embarrassment is a component of humility. And humility is very attractive. There was an important lesson to be learned right then. So I allowed it to happen. I was proud of my decision not to intervene. But I was prouder of Meagan for allowing herself to feel her feelings.

The clerk suggested we try their competition.

"Long & McQuaid might have something you like. Why not check them out? If you can't find what you like there, you can come back and get this one."

We took his advice and later found the perfect instrument for the right price. Meagan loved it. Dan approved. And it was only about $10. more.

At the cash register, Meagan tugged on my shirt.

"Here Dad," she said. "This is all I've got left." And she handed me twenty dollars. "Mum said she'd pay you back. Thanks. It's good, isn't it Dad?"

"Yeah, Scout. It's good alright. It's really good." And I took her twenty dollars.

I would never have asked her for that money, Ms J. She gave it to me because she wanted to use her own money to buy her guitar. She does not expect gifts. That's the biggest difference between Dan and Meagan. She will grow to be an independent woman. Self-sufficient.

At home later, I took a picture of Meagan with her new guitar. Dan stood by and said nothing. Meagan had been getting all the attention. I turned to face my son and took a few steps toward him as he stood awkwardly by the door in the livingroom.

"Dan?"

"Yeah Dad?"

I felt tears starting to fill my eyes, but I swallowed hard and blinked them away.

"Thanks for coming with us today. This was a very special day for me. It was so nice to have both you and Meagan here with me. It's been a long time, hasn't it? I hope you'll come visit me again sometime. I miss you, you know. And I love you."

I looked at my son then. He was smiling and frowning at the same time.

"You're welcome, Dad." He turned to his sister who was sitting with her guitar and said, "We should come here sometime and spend a weekend with Dad, eh Meagan?"

"Yeah, Dan. We should sometime."

And she strummed the strings and smiled her contentment.

God, I love those two.


The next Liona Boyd? Who knows?

***