I sat on the couch this morning, coffee at the ready, MacBook Pro on the lap, reading the morning "papers."
Washington Post. New York Times. Boston Globe. Rutland Herald. Union Leader. Concord Monitor.
My youngest son, Noah, snuggled into me about half-way thru the morning read. We chatted, I kept reading, drinking coffee, and then had to react to a stunning sound:
"Wait a minute, Dad, I'm not done. Go back."
Go back?
What was he talking about?
"Don't move down the page so fast....I'm still reading it."
Noah? Reading the website?
Yupper.
There I was, reading about how the Boston Marathon was anticipating a really cold and wet race on Monday, and so was Mr. Noah Glenshaw, age seven years old.
So we spent the next ten minutes on the article. I helped with the really big words (e.g., hypothermia), but for the most part, Mr. Noah did an excellent job of reading the website.
Save for one thing. When we got to the end of page one, he asked, "is it over?"
So I explained the link to page two, and off we went to that page. But it got me thinking, isn't this a moment?
Not just to be reading the newspaper over your father's should, but do so digitally.
What does that mean for the future? Will his kids get the news via their "phones" or whatever voice/data/text communication devices are called in 2032 (Noah will be 32 years old then...and I will be.....)?
WIll there be news? Or just streaming of content in a form that we can't imagine today? What will Noah's son or daughter read over his shoulder? Or in some other way?
And then I got to thinking about the past.
There's a picture, somewhere in my family's archives, of my brother, John, and I picking up The New York Times together from our front walkway. We're about three and four years old, respectively, and dressed in our PJs and bathrobes. I'm guessing the picture was taken in 1968.
Imagine if a similar picture of Noah and I was taken today. What would be out of place, 40 years from now? What would be the same?
A person can make a lot of guesses, but let me suggest one constant amidst the advancing decades and technologies: a parent's love for his child, watching him grow, and a child's awareness of his own growth.
You might be sitting, as I was, half dressed and unshaven and trying to get a caffeine start to the day when suddenly and unexpectedly, a moment of beauty arrives. A young person, your child, reads a sophisticated newspaper article. And he gets it. As he asks you yet another thoughtful questions ("25 miles an hour is pretty fast for wind, right?"), you struggle to respond.
Your heart is butter on the frypan. Your eyes mist. You say, something.
What did you say? Who cares.
All he knows and you know is that you answered.
And in that moment -- when I child realizes he or she is growing up, and the parent realizes at the same time -- there's an incredible feeling of time. You sense time passing, repeating itself, and standing still. All in the same moment.
Kinda makes the rest of the day seem trivial.
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