On Being “Too” Connected

I appreciate new technology, but sometimes people appear “too” connected.

  

I find the way people use Bluetooth headsets and Blackberries to be particularly over-the-top.

  

Other than for hands-free driving (which is certainly a good use of the technology), do people really need a Bluetooth attached to their ear all the time? People walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with them – not talking, but waiting for a call, I guess. It strikes me as over-doing it a tad.

  

Again, I understand that some people need to stay connected  – a brain surgeon or a firefighter, for example – and there are times when everybody waits on a vitally important call (from the cable installer, for example!). I wonder though, if some people are addicted to nonstop connectivity.

  

Blackberries are particularly baleful in this regard. They are called “Crackberries” for a reason: it appears that people get addicted to checking their screen every two minutes like a crack addict getting another fix. Ever sit in a meeting with someone who can’t put down their Blackberry? They talk for two minutes, then check their Blackberry; talk for two minutes, check the Blackberry. This will go on for the entire meeting. They have no focus on the looming project deadline, but they never miss a spam email.

  

Again, I’m not against new technology. I love my new Garmin GPS: I’ll never ask for directions again. And Bluetooh and Blackberry technologies are wonderful. It’s the way some people use technology that’s a little baffling. Not long ago, nobody had a cell phone, and we all lived just fine. Soon, we’ll have I-phones implanted in our skulls. Ah well, I suppose there’s always room for spam……

On the Beginning of the Universe

After studying Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, reading Richard Dawkins “The God Delusion” and watching approximately 100 Discovery Channel specials about Stephen Hawkings and the origin of the universe, I have a firm understanding of the Big Bang and evolutionary theory.

  

While I understand evolution just fine, I’m fuzzy on the whole Big Bang part, specifically, what started it all? According to the cosmological model, in the beginning all matter in the universe was condensed into a tiny ball the size of say, an atom. Then it exploded in the Big Bang.

 

My question is “Who or what created this primeval atom?”

 

I’m not critical of science for not having an answer yet. I’m amazed at all the things that have been discovered and explained so far. But asking this one question is like having a discussion with my 5-year-old daughter: Daddy, where did that car come from? From a factory. Where did the factory come from? People built it. Where did people come from? And you just keep going till you get to that tiny atom.

 

I’ve read about parallel universes, multiverses and even cyclic universes, the latter which essentially theorizes that the Big Bang happens over and over again ad infinitum. In short, the universe begins when a tiny atom containing everything explodes in a Big Bang, then all matter expands for a trillion years until everything dilutes away before contracting in a so-called big crunch, forming another tiny atom – the beginnings of the next Big Bang. In this theory, space and time exist forever. The Big Bang is not the beginning of time; rather, it is a bridge between the Big Bang before it and the one after it. It’s like a perpetual Big Bang party.

 

Regardless, what created the very beginning of it all? I wonder if the answer is so fantastic that it will force us to adopt a new way of perceiving reality – or if science will ever answer this question.

On the Magic of Santa Claus

Before I became a parent, I thought it a bit cruel to teach children the fantasy of Santa Claus. Mind you, I wasn’t a scrooge: I wasn’t traumatized when I learned the truth myself as a child, and I still love celebrating Christmas. I also wasn’t overly concerned about the commercialization of the holiday or that Santa has usurped Jesus’ birth as reason to celebrate. I could tackle those problems as a parent.

 

I simply thought it mean-spirited to build up such an exciting fantasy in the very young, only to crush it for them a few years later. I was like Maureen O’Hara in Miracle on 34th Street.

 

Now that I’m a parent, I’ve changed my mind.

  

I realize now that the pre-parent “me” had missed the point because I had focused too narrowly on the literal existence of Santa. In my daughter’s eyes, Santa is indeed real because he manifests Christmas itself – except 5-year-children don’t talk about “manifesting reality” – they think instead of a jolly old guy in a red suit.

 

In my daughter’s life today, mermaids and monsters exist; Mickey Mouse REALLY lives in Orlando; and reindeer can fly all over the world, safely landing on rooftops. It all makes sense. She’s not as focused on the reality of Santa Claus as she is the magic of Christmas. She’s at too tender an age to separate the two. By teaching her about Santa Claus, it makes teaching her the magic of Christmas – the important things – much easier.

 

Today, I enjoy seeing her enthusiasm for Santa Claus. It’s not cruel; it makes sense in her world. When she is a few years older and the realities of life come sharper into focus, the truth about Santa Claus will make sense, too.

 

Now I understand.

On Celebrating Youth Sports

My 5-year-old daughter now plays soccer, her first foray into organized sports. The focus is on fun: nobody keeps score, and there are no goalies or other positions. Everyone fairly much runs around, kicking wildly at the ball. She has a blast.  

Her playing reminds me that I was fortunate to play youth football between the ages of 8-14. I was too small to segue into organized high school sports, but the experience taught me the very things my daughter is learning now, lessons she can use throughout her life, including how to:

Play fair.

Be tough.

Be a team player.

Be a gracious loser – and learn you can’t win every time.

Be a gracious winner – and be sensitive to those who lose.

Try your best.

Listen to the coach.

Compete – because there are times in life when you must.

Reap the rewards of hard work from practice, practice, practice.

Love playing a game. 

I still remember playing football when I was about 12, scoring a touchdown on a kickoff return. I was the smallest guy on the team – but also nearly the fastest. The opposing coach pointed to me, yelling at his kicker loud enough for everyone to hear: “Kick it to 33!” I guess he thought small equals slow. The ball bounced one time in front of me before I grabbed it and ran about 70 yards untouched. Funny that I still remember it. 

I hope my daughter builds fond memories of playing sports, too.