I was at lunch with Maddie and Bernard when Bernard suggested to Maddie that I might be able to help her with her iPhone.
"She's having trouble loading songs," he told me.
"What kind of trouble?" I asked.
"Well, I got it to work, but it ... well I just pictured it as different."
"May I see it," I asked. I took it in my hands. It is a beautiful piece of hardware ... software ... art, whatever it is. "How many songs do you have loaded," I asked her.
"Only about 12," she said. "It takes a long time."
"Are you getting songs from iTunes or CDs?" I asked.
"Huh?" She gave me a blank look
Curious, I put in the ear buds and navigated to the songs. There were 11 and the titles included "i get kicked out of you." No artist was listed, just the song title. Wondering if it was Sinatra, I played the tune. After an uncharacteristically long silence, I heard someone clear their throat. And then I heard a humming before Maddie's warbling, but admirably clear voice began to sing acapella. "I get no kick from champagne. Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all," she sang.
"Maddie," I turned to her. "You do know that you don't have to load songs into this iPhone by singing, right?"
She looked sweetly at me. "Oh, I know that," she smiled. "But my turntable is broken."
"Of course," I mumbled. "Well, the quality is quite impressive," I said. "You have a nice voice."
"Yes. They were so clever to combine a phone and a microphone," she said. "I can see why everyone raves about how well engineered it is." She smiled. "Maybe you'd like to sing a song into it?" she asked.
"Maddie," I said, "I do get a kick out of you."
She beamed and punched me playfully in the arm. "Of course you do," she said. "You're not a complete idiot."