Computer Updates,Theories of the Universe, and Interceptions: Ah, the Wonders of Youth

It might be a kind of sacrilege to tamper with the words of a treasured poet, but if I were bold enough to give ol’ William Wordsworth something like an update, I know which famous line I’d aim for first. “The Child is father of the Man” (from one of his short poems, “My Heart Leaps Up”) is perfectly fine, of course, in its suggestion that we all have everything that we’re going to become in us at an early age. Based on my experiences of late, however, I’d revise it to something like, “Kids These Days Sure Can Show Us a Thing or Two.”

Recently I was visiting with a cousin and we were sharing memories about the older generation, now just about all gone in our family. I’ve often kept the image of waves on the beach as a kind of metaphor for the succession of ages, but he had another, not exactly peaceful one: we’re all walking in a line towards the edge of a cliff, arms out, and we watch our parents suddenly drop right ahead of us, leaving no doubt what’s in store for us, momentarily. It is some comfort, isn’t it, that we have our kids and nieces and nephews behind us? Maybe, just maybe, by the time they get to the edge, one of them will have invented a new route. They’re pretty clever, really they are.

People talk about “learning from your elders” all the time; how about “learning from your youngers”? No—wait, that’s probably not an actual word. But it sure describes the section of trail I’ve been walking these days. More times than I can count, it feels like they’re scampering up ahead. My world is getting kind of flipped: left and right, it seems, the kids are taking over—in technological savvy, obviously — but also in confidently going forth, forging new territory, sometimes leading us to re-discover the past, not to mention making a range of cool connections.

“You really need to update your computer, Mom.” My daughter, sitting at my desk one day in between semesters, might as well have said, “You really need to update your life.” She’d be right on both counts, of course. I’m ashamed to admit that, most every time my Mac let me know that it was ready for an upgrade, I postponed the procedure. I venture to say I am not alone in this habit; aren’t there hoards of us who believe that whatever important activity we’re in the midst of takes precedence over something that the computer itself needs? I got my comeuppance all right. After my girl patiently went through everything that needed doing, assuring me that it was all for the best, I had to get completely re-oriented to the screen. I won’t bore you with the details (want to talk scroll bars?) but suffice it to say that the upgrade was not exactly seamless. My machine had gone through some kind of transformation, and I barely recognized the new creature. Some days later, a guy in a shop told me with a smile that it was kind of as if I’d jumped from 6^th grade to 10^th in one fell swoop. Wait…what happened to Algebra?

Hauled reluctantly into the technological present by one child, I’ve also been hauled back, more happily but still with accompanying challenges, to the scientific past by another. My son landed the role of Albert Einstein in his high school’s winter play, a Steve Martin creation called Picasso at the Lapin Agile. It is set in a Parisian café in the year 1904, when both Einstein and Picasso are on the verge of realizing major breakthroughs in their work. Needless to say, this is not exactly an area of my own expertise. In an effort to learn a little something about the brilliant man my son is becoming—at least on stage–I’ve been deep in Walter Isaacson’s definitive biography (Simon & Schuster, 2007) called simply, Einstein. I need to summon as much mental acuity as I can to absorb passages like this:

It is very important to note, however, that the theory of relativity does not mean that “everything is relative.” It does not mean that everything is subjective.

Instead, it means that measurements of time, including duration and simultaneity, can be relative, depending on the motion of the observer. So can the measurements of space, such as distance and length. But there is a union of the two, which we call spacetime, and that remains invariant in all inertial frames. Likewise, there are things such as the speed of light that remain invariant.

“Ok, then,” I think to myself as I head off to empty the dishwasher, suddenly imagining speeding trains whizzing by people on platforms, ships passing each other in the sea, and Einstein himself sitting atop a beam of light heading out into the universe. All this sifts over me thanks to my own boy, a 10^th grader.

Malcolm Butler may be no Einstein, but the rookie football player sure understood something important about space and time when he intercepted that pass at the end of the Super Bowl game last Sunday. Wow— what a thrilling end to a tremendous contest. As I watched and heard the name of the hero, I suddenly remembered that my nephew had just talked to me about this same player a few days before, because he in fact knew him. Here’s how:

Tucker, now a college sophomore, has had the enormous good fortune to serve as an intern at the Patriots’ training camp for the past two summers. The hours were long, and he was assigned a wide range of tasks, including regular driving between field and hotel for certain players who needed transportation. It was in this way he got acquainted with the undrafted rookie from Division II West Alabama. Tucker saw how hard Butler worked, day after day, fighting for a place on the roster, knowing what a steep climb he faced. And then, fast forward six months later to Arizona, the cornerback—on the bench during the first half of the game—not only gets in but breaks up two long passes before making THE BIG PLAY by noticing, as written in Sports Illustrated, that “the Seahawks lined up in a formation that screamed pass, a shotgun with three receivers to the right.” Talk about being in the right place at the right time. Now, it’s almost as if the guy has achieved immortality; my nephew is walking on air, and I – just a few steps removed—feel the elation, too.

I wonder what kinds of gifts the 20 and under set will bring this coming week. Actually, they’ve already started, thanks to yesterday’s sledding adventure with the 11 year old in my life plus her brother. Wouldn’t have traded it for anything.