I sat hidden on the third floor of the library on a dreary, drizzly Wednesday afternoon, reading the textbook for the string cheese class (technically called Reading in Secondary Schools). All of the tables in the Memorial Union were full when my class got out, and instead of circulating, waiting for someone to get up so I could share a table with strangers, I decided to walk back across the Quad and try one of my other favorite study spots. The massive four-story library building encircled a central courtyard; it was a curious mashup of architectural styles, owing to its history of being added onto multiple times. Two sections of the building, on the second and third floors, had windows overlooking the courtyard, but the wall was about three feet thick in these spots, so the windows were recessed from the rest of the room. This gave me a place to park myself for the afternoon, reading from the textbook and highlighting main ideas.
Around 4:30, it dawned on me that it was Wednesday, and I had to go to church tonight for The Edge, the junior high school age youth group for which I was a volunteer leader. If I walked as fast as possible right now and then ran to the bus stop once I was out of the library, I might catch my bus and get home in time to eat a quick dinner. I quickly packed and headed for the stairs, skipping the sometimes slow elevator. I passed a bathroom but chose not to use it, in the interest of saving time.
I caught my bus about a minute before it pulled away from the curb, but by the time I got home, I had to pee so badly that I was almost shaking. I had a hard time putting the front door key in the keyhole accurately, and as soon as I got the door open, I went straight to the bathroom, the one in the back of the house attached to the large bedroom that I shared with Jed. When I finished, I walked to the living room and checked to see if anyone had checked the mail. Someone had, and it was all junk. Jed was sitting on the couch, playing Final Fantasy VII on his PlayStation; with him here in Jeromeville and his brother back home, they could no longer share a gaming console, so Jed had gotten his own for Christmas.
“How’s it going,” I said to Jed, tired from the long day, knowing that I only had less than an hour to gobble down something quick for dinner before it was time to leave for The Edge.
“Hey, Greg,” Jed replied. “You noticed those boxes in there for you, right?”
“What? Where?”
“In the bedroom,” Jed said, gesturing toward the bedroom.
I was expecting a package later this week. This would have been an unusually early delivery. Besides, I just walked through the bedroom; how did I miss two large boxes? Did my overwhelming desire to use the bathroom blind me to my surroundings? I walked back to the bedroom, and sure enough, someone had placed on the floor next to my dresser a large box, roughly a cube close to two feet on each side, with another slightly smaller box on top of it. Both boxes were white, with black spots on them in a pattern reminiscent of a cow, with the green corporate wordmark “Gateway” printed near the top of each box.
Gateway was a computer manufacturer, headquartered in an industrial park in South Dakota, near the Iowa state line. The cow-patterned box was a corporate trademark of Gateway, referencing the company’s location in a part of the United States known more for farming than technology. Gateway was one of the first computer manufacturers to offer customizable home computers, and I had recently placed an order for one. The email that I had received from Gateway gave an estimated delivery date of February 5, but here it was, only February 3, and my new computer was here.
And I would have to wait another four hours to open it, because of The Edge.
I put on a jacket and walked to the church; it only took about five minutes, and by now the drizzle had stopped. Adam White and Faith Wiener were already there, since both of them were church employees, and Noah Snyder, Taylor Santiago, Jamie Dodson, and Martin Rhodes had arrived before me, with the other leaders trickling in over the next ten minutes. I tried to focus on what Adam was saying during our meeting, but I kept thinking about how much I wanted to get home and set up the new computer.
“Greg?” Adam said, snapping my attention back to reality.
“Huh? Sorry.”
“Prayer request?”
“Sorry I wasn’t listening. My mind has been elsewhere, because I had a new computer delivered today.”
“Nice!” Noah said.
“Exciting!” Jamie exclaimed.
“What kind?” Taylor asked.
“I had it custom built from Gateway. Windows 98, with a CD burner.”
“Awesome! Now you’re gonna copy all your friends’ music collections?”
“I’ll probably do a little of that, honestly, but I’m also excited about making mix CDs. Pick out just the right collection of songs to fit a certain mood. And I need to get a CD player for the car, so I can listen to them on the way to work. So I guess my prayer request is that everything will work okay when I take it out of the box.”
“Yes,” Adam agreed. “That’s important.”
We went around in a circle, praying for each other, as we always did before the students arrived. When we opened the doors, some students were already waiting outside, and others gradually trickled in as they got dropped off over the next ten minutes. I walked around, saying hi to the students I knew.
I walked around the room, watching students run around, shoot baskets, and just talk to each other. The cacophony of noise overwhelmed me a little, but I was used to it by now, after having done this every week for two years. I heard someone call out, “Greg!” I turned; the voice belonged to an eighth-grader named Phillip. He was standing against the wall talking to three other boys named Stephen, Alex, and Gavin. These three boys were among those who seemed to have taken a liking to me. Two years ago, some boys from the youth group invited me to go to lunch with them after church, and this led to me volunteering as a leader. Noah always said he thought it was funny how the students chose me as a youth leader, instead of me having chosen to volunteer on my own. Those boys had moved on to high school since then, though, and now I usually ended up with Phillip, Alex, and Stephen in my small group at the end of the night, when we would discuss that week’s Bible lesson. Gavin was in my group too if he showed up; he only did around half of the time.
“What’s up?” Phillip asked me.
“Guess what showed up at my house today?” I replied
“What?”
“Two large cow-colored boxes.”
“A new computer from Gateway?” Stephen asked excitedly.
“Yes!” I replied. “With a CD burner.”
“More like ‘Gay-way,’” Gavin remarked snidely.
What? I thought. That was rude. What was wrong with Gateway? Did they have a bad reputation among the tech savvy? I had always heard good things about Gateway. Maybe Gavin came from one of those snooty families who worshiped Apple products and found all other computers to be inherently inferior. Or maybe he was affluent enough to afford all of the latest high-powered gadgets, better than any ordinary computer I could afford. I ignored his comment, but just to be safe, I did not mention the new computer to anyone else that night.
I got home from The Edge around 9:30. As soon as I walked in, I heard Jed from the other room say, “Time to unpack the computer?”
“Let’s go,” I replied. I walked to the bedroom as Jed followed, with Sean and Brody, our other housemates, close behind. Apparently unpacking my computer would be an event of great importance for the whole house.
I opened the first box, the one containing the actual computer. “It’s small,” Jed pointed out. It was definitely smaller physically than my current computer; when I was building the computer, the size option was called “mini-tower,” which seemed fine because the full-sized “tower” option was much larger than the computer I had currently. But the “mini-tower” was smaller than I expected. No big deal, though, as long as it worked, and besides, that meant it would take up slightly less desk space than the current computer.
Also in this box was a keyboard, a mouse, a power cord, and a telephone cable for connecting to dial-up internet, which was unnecessary since the one I already had worked just fine. I unplugged my old computer and monitor and moved them out of the way, under the table. I put the new computer on the table, turned sideways so that I could access the ports for connecting cords in the back. I plugged the keyboard, mouse, and phone cables into the back of the computer, then pushed the power cord down behind the table, but I did not plug it in yet.
I unpacked the instruction manuals and installation discs that remained in the first box. “Look at this,” I said. “It came with two blank CDs. So I can start burning CDs right away. That’s good, because I probably won’t have time to buy blank CDs until the weekend. I don’t even know if any store in Jeromeville carries blank CDs.”
“Is the other box a monitor?” Sean asked.
“Yes. A little bigger than this one.”
Next, I opened the second box and carefully lifted the bulky cathode-ray tube screen onto the table. I plugged it into the back of the computer and screwed it finger tight; computer monitors in those days used the blue VGA D-type connector with the two screws to hold it in place. Finally, I inserted the power cord into the back of the monitor and plugged in both the computer and monitor. I turned on the computer. “Here we go,” I said. Jed made an exaggerated face of excited anticipation.
I waited excitedly as I heard the new computer whir to life. The Gateway logo appeared on the screen with various power-on self test messages scrolling across the bottom, then the screen went blue with a message proclaiming “Welcome to Windows 98 Setup.” I then did a lot of waiting, and a little bit of typing when I was prompted to enter the product key from the certificate of authenticity, set the date and time, and provide other such information. When Windows 98 was finally finished setting up, about half an hour later, Jed applauded. Sean and Brody joined in.
“So what’s the first CD you’re gonna burn?” Brody asked.
“Probably a mix CD of old songs from albums that I don’t listen to all the way through much anymore,” I explained. “But that’ll have to wait until tomorrow, because it’s getting late.”
“Aww.”
“I do want to get my email set up, though.”
“I’ll let you get to that, then.”
“Glad everything works,” Sean added. The others went back out to the living room.
Setting up my email was straightforward. I had a message from Michelle923, an Internet friend from Michigan whom I had been talking to off and on for a while. She was just catching me up on her last few days, so I replied, doing the same. Everything on this computer worked beautifully and ran smoothly. Suck it, Gavin, I thought. I wanted so badly to keep fiddling with the computer, but I knew that I had student teaching and class tomorrow, and I was starting to get tired, so I powered down the computer and headed to bed.
I did a fairly good job of focusing on what I had to do Thursday morning at Nueces High. The students in Basic Math B were their usual selves; a few of them were still trying, but the rest sat there and did nothing. In geometry, we discussed ratios and similar triangles. When I got home, instead of heading to campus right away as I usually did, I installed the software to burn audio CDs. I did not have time to actually make a mix CD yet, though, if I wanted to get to my class on time. This would give me time to contemplate what songs to put on it, which I did during the bus ride to campus.
I came straight home after class. No one else appeared to be home, unless Brody or Sean was sleeping in another room, and I preferred this. I did not want the others watching over my shoulder as I burned my mix CD.
This computer did not have nearly enough hard drive space to hold thousands of songs, as the computers I would have in the 21st century would, nor did it have any currently installed means to use a compressed file format like MP3 to store music. So, with this particular hardware and software, I had to save all the song files one at a time in uncompressed form, write them to the blank CD, and then delete all of these files from the computer, since they took up a significant amount of space on the hard drive. This all seemed quaint compared to the technology of my later adulthood, but it was much better than the alternative at the time, which was making mixes on lower-quality audio cassettes.
For the last couple years, although I still listened to mainstream pop-rock and classic rock on the radio, I had mostly only been buying CDs of Christian music. I had a number of CDs from the last few years that I rarely listened to all the way through these days, so my plan was to start by making a mix CD of greatest hits from these albums. I took these discs out of the CD shelf and put them on the desk next to me. Aerosmith’s Big Ones. Hell Freezes Over, the Eagles’ four comeback songs and live reunion album. Pearl Jam’s Ten. Cracked Rear View by Hootie and the Blowfish. Crash by the Dave Matthews Band. The Spin Doctors’ Pocket Full of Kryptonite. Soundgarden’s Superunknown. The untitled EP from the now-defunct Jeromeville local band Lawsuit. Classic Queen.
The new computer had two optical drives. One was a read-only drive that read both compact discs and the higher-capacity digital video discs; in addition to computer software on those discs, it could also play music CDs and video DVDs. I had no video DVDs, since this was a very new technology at the time. The second drive could both read and write CDs, but the reading speed was much slower on this one, so I put each of the music CDs I had taken from the shelf into the read-only drive, one at a time, to copy the songs I wanted from each to the computer. A blank CD could fit 74 minutes of audio, and as I arranged the songs in the order I wanted, I noticed that I would have to cut something in order to fit on the CD. I deleted Soundgarden’s “Spoonman” from the list of songs to record, leaving fifteen songs on the disc.
I put the blank CD in the CD writer drive and clicked Burn. And now I waited; a progress bar popped up a few minutes later, estimating a little over half an hour to finish the disc. I did not want to risk opening other windows on my computer while it was working, since any disruptions to the computer could possibly cause the disc to fail. Recordable CDs could only be used once, so if the recording failed, the entire disc was useless, except possibly as a coaster.
The blank CDs that came with the computer came with cases and paper sleeves, for writing the contents of the disc. I took this paper out and began writing the track list.
Mix 1
1. Hotel California – Eagles
2. Amazing – Aerosmith
3. Hold My Hand – Hootie & the Blowfish
4. Black – Pearl Jam
5. Dude Looks Like a Lady – Aerosmith
6. Two Princes – Spin Doctors
7. I Want It All – Queen
8. So Much To Say – Dave Matthews Band
9. Black Hole Sun – Soundgarden
10. Let Her Cry – Hootie
11. Useless Flowers – Lawsuit
12. Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong – Spin Doctors
13. Under Pressure – Queen featuring David Bowie
14. Not Even The Trees – Hootie
15. Take It Easy – Eagles
When the disc was done burning, I wrote “Mix #1” on it in permanent marker, then put it in the CD player on my stereo. I pressed Play, and a few seconds later, I heard the familiar opening notes of the Eagles’ 1994 live acoustic version of Hotel California coming through the speakers. Perfect. It worked. I turned on the old computer, now under the table, and began using floppy disks to copy files from the old computer to the new one, as I listened to Mix 1.
Jed came home somewhere in the middle of “Two Princes.” He walked to the bathroom attached to our bedroom, and by the time he was out of the bathroom, the next song, “I Want It All,” had started. “Wait a minute,” he said. “That’s a different singer. Is this your mix CD?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
“Awesome! Would you be ok with me using it sometime, if I ever need to burn a CD? I can buy my own blank CDs.”
“Sure. Just let me know first, to make sure you aren’t tying up the computer when I urgently need it.”
The song ended, and the next one, “So Much To Say,” began. “That’s so cool,” Jed said. “You can really make every CD your own, exactly the songs you want and none that you don’t want.”
“I know,” I replied.
For the rest of Thursday night, I graded geometry homework from Mrs. Tracy’s class while continuing to use floppy disks to transfer files from the old computer to the new one. That Saturday, I made an overnight trip home to my parents’ house in Plumdale. I brought the old computer with me and dropped it off in my parents’ attic. It would stay there until 2010, when Mom and Dad dropped it off at one of those charity fundraisers where someone collects old electronics and gets paid by some organization for disposing of them properly.
A couple years earlier, Mom had gotten me a computer game, Beavis and Butthead: Virtual Stupidity, based on the popular cartoon of the same name. It would not run on my old computer. I asked Mark, my seventeen-year-old brother, if I could take it home with me; after all, it was technically mine, and now I had a computer that could run it. My brother had not played it in a while, so he was okay with that. Also, I said that, if it worked to do so, I would copy the game onto a blank CD and give the copy back to him next time I saw him so he could have his own copy. I also asked my brother if I could take the Super Nintendo console and games back with me. Now that Jed had his PlayStation in the house, I wanted to be able to play video games too. Mark had the newer, faster Nintendo 64 console now, so he was okay with me taking the older console home with me.
On the way back from Plumdale, Sunday morning, I took a short detour through Willow Grove and stopped at the Fry’s Electronics superstore. Fry’s was a small chain of very large stores scattered throughout the western United States, and some of the buildings had unusual themes to their architecture. The one in Willow Grove was shaped like a pyramid and had an ancient Egyptian theme. I bought two ten-packs of blank CDs, a Sony Discman portable CD player, and a CD wallet to store discs in the car. Most cars back then had cassette players, but no auxiliary audio port, so the Discman came with an adapter shaped like an audio cassette, but with a wire coming out of it that plugged into the Discman, to run the sound through the cassette player. The Discman could be powered either by batteries or by plugging into the 12-volt cigarette lighter outlet in the car. I opened the box for the Discman and connected it to the cassette player and the lighter outlet, and listened to Mix #1 as I drove north on Highway 6 toward Jeromeville. After playing the entire CD, I played it again; it was the only CD I had with me in the car, since this was my first time having a CD player for the car. I got home while track 7, “I Want It All,” was playing for the second time.
Over the next decade or so, I made dozens more mix CDs, and occasionally after that as well. Some contained songs all meant to fit a certain mood, given major events going on in my life. Some had songs from a certain time period. One mix CD I called “Where Did All This Music Come From,” after I made some Internet friends in the early 2000s whom I often traded MP3s with, leaving songs on my computer for which I could not remember who had sent them to me or where I got them. I also used the CD burner to copy entire albums from friends sometimes. Although I am not proficient in any instruments, listening to music has always been a big part of my life, tied closely to memories and changes I have seen in the world over the decades, and these mix CDs have helped me connect with those various times from my life.

Readers: Do you enjoy making playlists? Tell me about some of your experiences making playlists (or mix CDs, if you were alive in the late 1990s and early 2000s).
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