My Mother is Technically Challenged

My mom. You gotta love her. But she’s challenged when it comes to technology.

She doesn’t know the difference between a kilobyte or a dog bite. She’s not connected to the World Wide Web and she is baffeled by how to send an email.

But ya gotta love her.

She’s in her mid 80s. I won’t tell you how much into her mid 80s – she’ll probably write me out of the will if I do. But like other folks of her generation, she’s experienced more of life and change than anyone in the history of the world. And I don’t think there will ever be another generation to see the same amount of change within one lifetime.

Think about it for a moment.

When she was a little girl growing up on the plains of North Dakota, the primary means of transportation was horse and buggy. Or just a horse if you couldn’t afford the buggy. World War I was recent history and the clouds of World War II hadn’t even started forming on the horizon.

Family entertainment consisted of setting around the old Philco listening to radio shows coming from as far as the exotic streets of Fargo. The idea of getting a long distance phone call was so remote that if someone did get a long distance call, everyone in Streeter knew it. You see, the only phone in town was at the general store.

Men still tipped their hats to ladies as they passed them on the street and held doors open for them at the store. Folks still did the family reunion thing on a regular basis. Neighbors helped neighbors and kids were allowed to play outside, alone, until the street lamps came on.

These are the values that she tried her best to instill in me growing up. While I learned the lessons because she repeated them time and again, it took me awhile to absorb them. I kind like what Mark Twain said about his dad – the same could be said about my mom.

When I was 15, my father was the dumbest man on earth. When I turned 20, I was surprised to see how much they old man had learned in five years”.

So, if you’re ever in Hot Springs, take a moment and visit her. She lives at the end of Greenhouse Road behind the Presbyterian Church. She’ll fix you a coffee and a snack and maybe while you’re there, you’ll be able to show her how the VCR works.

Me? I’ll be setting in Firestorm at my favorite table in the back contemplating what it must be like to go from horse and buggy to men living in outer space.

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