Yesterday I was driving around in Xena, as I'm am often prone to do when the sun is shining and the sky is blue. For anyone who doesn't know me, Xena is my car. My beautiful, 2011 Dodge Challenger, metallic burnt orange with black racing stripes. I have often been told, by my sister to be exact, that I have an unhealthy relationship with my car. I say, pssshaw! Or something resembling that. I can think of many worse vices than an unhealthy love of a beautiful car. So, back to my point. I was cruising in the bright sunlight, sunglasses removed from the convenient compartment just above my right hand on the ceiling of the car, my favorite tunes playing softly (unless it's a good rock and roll song that requires extreme volume) from the Ipod attached to the USB port in the center console. I have control of the volume with the fingers of my right hand on the back of the steering wheel. I can change the song with the simple flick of a finger on my left hand on the back of the steering wheel. There is a map showing just to my right in the center of the dashboard on a screen that rivals the screen of the first television I owned. At a glance I can see where I am and where I'm going. Somewhere, miles above me in the starry skies of outer space, is a huge satellite sending an invisible signal to a tiny microchip located somewhere in the vehicle that keeps my map view up to date. A soft voice gently prompts me, "in 200 feet, make a left turn on to 4th North street". And then the distance and an arrow indicating the direction to turn appears in a little round circle directly behind my steering wheel to make sure I know exactly what I need to do. Suddenly, my little map screen lights up with a message, and the sweet voice of Xena informs me that "you have an incoming call from Kate. Press accept to answer, or ignore to reject." I press a little button on the front of my steering wheel with my left index finger and say hello. The sweet voice of my daughter now speaks through the invisible speakers of the sound and navigation system and I talk back as if she were sitting in the seat next to me. As the conversation ends and the voice of Xena informs me that I have arrived at my destination, I park my precious baby and exit, tapping lightly on a small button on the top of the exterior door handle. With the tiniest of a honk of the horn, Xena informs me that she is now securely locked and her anti-theft system has been engaged. There is no key for me to put in my pocket. The entry and ignition fob is somewhere in the depths of my purse. I'm not sure where, but Xena knows it's there, and that's all she needs.
Now, as I sit in my favorite restaurant (really? where did you think I was going?) I start to think. Yes, you should probably be afraid, but we'll go there another time. Saturday my granddaughter will be nine years old. She is a sweet little girl with fawn brown hair and beautiful round eyes. As I think of her now, it's hard for me to imagine a time when, as a toddler, her mother told me once that she was afraid of her. Not in a Damion sort of way, but this granddaughter was, well maybe too much like her grandmother, and a tad stubborn and quite sure of what she wanted and intended to have it. Her mother apparently overcame her fear, because she raised this girl, as well as her sisters and brother, to be a fine young lady. Sweet and calm and good natured. We call her the baby whisperer because she has such a gentle touch, all babies love her. As I smiled and considered her, I pondered on my recent experience in the cockpit of Xena and realized how many words and terms I referenced in my description that didn't even exist when I was nine. Or, at the very least, did not mean the same thing that they mean today. I was suddenly in awe and amazement at the miraculous technology and gadgets that had emerged over the course of my lifetime. From the tiny, two inch by two inch IPod that holds 1000 songs, to the detailed graphics of the map on the little screen in my car, there where countless things that amazed me. I am astonished every time I pick up my little cell phone or even my tablet (one of those words that meant a bound book full of lined, blank paper when I was nine) at the information that is instantly available with the swipe of a finger. Even that, a motion that my two year old grandson had figured out when he was one, was unimaginable as anything more than expressing emotion when I was nine. I slide a little plastic card through a slot on a machine and out pops a thin, plastic disk that holds an entire movie on it. I toss a paper bag of popcorn kernels into a square plastic box, push a button and in 3 minutes I have a bowl of theater like popcorn. I could go on and on and on with the things that astonish and amaze me in my old age. Words like "download", "streaming", "upload", "post", "newsfeed", have entirely different meanings than they did in my youth. I can be sitting in my living room when I suddenly hear the little voice of my two year old granddaughter who is miles away. I open the cover of my little cell phone, and there she is! Instantly, big as life, grinning wildly and blowing me kisses. My three year old grandson skips across the room and gives me a quick "luffs you" and then is off to play with his toys. He is not even aware of how amazing it is for me to watch him play with his toys and yet be so far away.
And so, I come to the point of this post. I think of my grandchildren who have never known a time without these wonders that so captivate me. They are not delighted by the ability to "google" anything and know what it is. It is no big deal for them to open google earth and literally travel anywhere in the world and see anything they want. They have hundreds of thin, plastic discs with any movie they want just lying around at their fingertips. They are never amazed to see that everyone has a cell phone. In fact, they would probably be shocked to see someone who didn't, I don't imagine they could even comprehend having to write a message with an ink pen on a piece of blank paper, put it in an envelope, take it to the post office and then wait days for it to arrive at it's destination, for the person on the other end to repeat the process and then wait days for the message to be answered, My grandchildren live in an instant world. So, I wonder, what will amaze them? What will they have in five, ten, twenty years from now that they will ponder on and be astonished by?
There are still a few things that technology has not yet been able to duplicate. I hope that my grandchildren will have the chance to experience these few wonders that are left and be amazed and astonished by their grandeur. The warmth, smell, and sound of a crackling campfire in the inky black night of the mountains, with a sky so full of stars it takes your breath away. The thrill of excitement when you feel the tug of a trout on the end of your fishing line and the rush of adrenaline as they reel in the line and watch the slimy thing wiggle and flip on the hook. I hope they can imagine the sights and sounds as a wrinkled old grandfather tells his stories of horses and wagons and freezing winter nights, I guess most of all, I hope they can find and see the joy that life can hold. I hope they will never cease to be amazed by the world around them. Take the gameboy and the Iphone for granted, but never lose your wonder at the beauty of a sunset, the warmth of a sunrise, or the smell of a turkey roasting on Thanksgiving day. These are the things that technology cannot, yet, duplicate.
I wonder what will make my grandchildren wonder.
Now, as I sit in my favorite restaurant (really? where did you think I was going?) I start to think. Yes, you should probably be afraid, but we'll go there another time. Saturday my granddaughter will be nine years old. She is a sweet little girl with fawn brown hair and beautiful round eyes. As I think of her now, it's hard for me to imagine a time when, as a toddler, her mother told me once that she was afraid of her. Not in a Damion sort of way, but this granddaughter was, well maybe too much like her grandmother, and a tad stubborn and quite sure of what she wanted and intended to have it. Her mother apparently overcame her fear, because she raised this girl, as well as her sisters and brother, to be a fine young lady. Sweet and calm and good natured. We call her the baby whisperer because she has such a gentle touch, all babies love her. As I smiled and considered her, I pondered on my recent experience in the cockpit of Xena and realized how many words and terms I referenced in my description that didn't even exist when I was nine. Or, at the very least, did not mean the same thing that they mean today. I was suddenly in awe and amazement at the miraculous technology and gadgets that had emerged over the course of my lifetime. From the tiny, two inch by two inch IPod that holds 1000 songs, to the detailed graphics of the map on the little screen in my car, there where countless things that amazed me. I am astonished every time I pick up my little cell phone or even my tablet (one of those words that meant a bound book full of lined, blank paper when I was nine) at the information that is instantly available with the swipe of a finger. Even that, a motion that my two year old grandson had figured out when he was one, was unimaginable as anything more than expressing emotion when I was nine. I slide a little plastic card through a slot on a machine and out pops a thin, plastic disk that holds an entire movie on it. I toss a paper bag of popcorn kernels into a square plastic box, push a button and in 3 minutes I have a bowl of theater like popcorn. I could go on and on and on with the things that astonish and amaze me in my old age. Words like "download", "streaming", "upload", "post", "newsfeed", have entirely different meanings than they did in my youth. I can be sitting in my living room when I suddenly hear the little voice of my two year old granddaughter who is miles away. I open the cover of my little cell phone, and there she is! Instantly, big as life, grinning wildly and blowing me kisses. My three year old grandson skips across the room and gives me a quick "luffs you" and then is off to play with his toys. He is not even aware of how amazing it is for me to watch him play with his toys and yet be so far away.
And so, I come to the point of this post. I think of my grandchildren who have never known a time without these wonders that so captivate me. They are not delighted by the ability to "google" anything and know what it is. It is no big deal for them to open google earth and literally travel anywhere in the world and see anything they want. They have hundreds of thin, plastic discs with any movie they want just lying around at their fingertips. They are never amazed to see that everyone has a cell phone. In fact, they would probably be shocked to see someone who didn't, I don't imagine they could even comprehend having to write a message with an ink pen on a piece of blank paper, put it in an envelope, take it to the post office and then wait days for it to arrive at it's destination, for the person on the other end to repeat the process and then wait days for the message to be answered, My grandchildren live in an instant world. So, I wonder, what will amaze them? What will they have in five, ten, twenty years from now that they will ponder on and be astonished by?
There are still a few things that technology has not yet been able to duplicate. I hope that my grandchildren will have the chance to experience these few wonders that are left and be amazed and astonished by their grandeur. The warmth, smell, and sound of a crackling campfire in the inky black night of the mountains, with a sky so full of stars it takes your breath away. The thrill of excitement when you feel the tug of a trout on the end of your fishing line and the rush of adrenaline as they reel in the line and watch the slimy thing wiggle and flip on the hook. I hope they can imagine the sights and sounds as a wrinkled old grandfather tells his stories of horses and wagons and freezing winter nights, I guess most of all, I hope they can find and see the joy that life can hold. I hope they will never cease to be amazed by the world around them. Take the gameboy and the Iphone for granted, but never lose your wonder at the beauty of a sunset, the warmth of a sunrise, or the smell of a turkey roasting on Thanksgiving day. These are the things that technology cannot, yet, duplicate.
I wonder what will make my grandchildren wonder.
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