All the PCs my dad gave me. I did an art and media degree but my dad didn't really get what I was doing. I don't think I did either, which probably didn't help. Whilst at uni in the mid 90's I started using the internet and when I left, started teaching myself how to use Photoshop and make webpages using html. My dad worked in IT, so then we had our first proper shared interest as adults. It made it much easier to communicate. To help me out, my dad made me a custom built PC that I could learn with (it's the light coloured one with the front missing).
From then on our relationship improved a bit. Not that it was terrible before but now I was part of a world he understood. Being a hoarder, I've stored each of these away for years in case I needed any of them again. The older you get, the faster time moves so quickly, these PCs have become obsolete. All the data on them has been moved on to the latest storage method each time the PCs are replaced with a newer version. Since my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson's, I've cleared out his attic as he is a hoarder too. As bad if not worse than I am. I've found some interesting stuff. This brings the reality that in no time at all, I'm going to be elderly and will have to deal with an attic full of stuff. Except I'm letting most of it go. A bit at a time. These ugly metal boxes only have the meaning I've given to them and take up too much space along with their chunky peripherals.
I tried starting them up. One beeped continuously like a fire alarm or a bomb in a movie. The other started Windows XP. I couldn't get the password right but it was fun sitting through that familiar start up process one more time. I pulled all the hard drives out because I may want a vast archive of MP3s on one of them. Probably won't though. Getting into the guts of them reminded me of all the times I'd messed with them doing little upgrades. It's been a reminder of all the different places I lived and worked around London and the South of England. Along with that, the hopes and plans I had for the future. Some worked out, others didn't. In and around these PC boxes are the memories of my adult life so far to my early 50s. Tied into this is grief of years that have passed for me and my dad. These PC boxes are a reminder of past lives but they're a burden I don't need. These photos are allowing me to say goodbye to these PC boxes I've struggled for years to let go of. I'm taking them to the recycling centre as a bit at a time I lighten the load.
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