Lesson from a prodigal puppy

 I'm no stranger to my day starting off on the run.  Countless times I've risen to an early alarm, suited up and headed out for a morning run of anywhere from 30 minutes to a few hours.  Today was a different kind of running start.  There's no time to warm up or mentally prepare for the dash that ensues when a gust of west wind blows the front door open and our blond bombshell of a golden retriever makes her break.

 As I zig to intercept her zag all around the neighborhood, an adrenaline fueled cocktail of emotion starts getting shaken not stirred behind the pounding pulse in my head.  Concern for Sophie's safety, as she is not at all street smart and prone to dart in any direction, along with simmering anger that this debacle is going to make me late for Saturday coffee n bagel with my folks, mixes with the inescapable knowledge that this is all my fault.  Exhibit A - I have a golden retriever who has never been actually trained to do anything, and I mean anything that a golden retriever wouldn't do if raised by other untrained golden retrievers.  Exhibit B - I haven't been taking the time out of my day to walk her and burn off some of that desire to experience life and smells outside the property lines.  And finally, perhaps most damning of all , Exhibit C - Hey dumbass, it's really windy outside, maybe bolt the front door?

 So the really challenging part of all this comes after the catch is made and we return home.  None of the anger and anxiety that dumped into my system over the previous ten minutes can be unleashed, nor should it be, on this panting, frolicking doggy.  Dog's, even trained ones, aren't too bright.  And even though I'm no dog trainer I do know a thing or two about conditioning.  You don't punish a dog for returning home.  So it's all "good girl" and strokes and rubs and treats in the hope that it reinforces in her the desire to not venture too far from home where all the strokes, rubs and treats are.

 This got me thinking about the well-known story of the prodigal son in the 15th chapter of Dr. Luke's part of the Bible.  After years of rebellion and the squandering of his inheritance, the prodigal son is not only welcomed home to a wide embrace by his father, but they throw a party to celebrate his return.  Now in the case of humans, this isn't simply conditioning.  After all , we're somewhat brighter than golden retrievers and can in many cases be reasoned with.  No, this is just a great example of how we should treat eachother.

 I've been on the receiving end of this - and it's both humbling and perhaps the greatest gift one can receive from a friend or family member.  My heart still swells when I recall those moments when a tearful look in the eyes or a tight embrace conveys the message better than any words, that I'm forgiven, the past is the past, and we again have a future together - as a friend, a father, a husband, a son.  It's not always about deserving, it's about making the most of the short time we have with all the other flawed yet beautiful people in our lives.

 At this moment, Sophie is contentedly snoozing next to me on the rug, I'm contentedly finishing up a blog entry, and speaking for myself at least, very content to be done with all the ziging and zagging that thankfully led both of us back home.

Digital Man

 There's no denying that each and every generation has it's own particular view of the changing world in which we live.  I sometimes wonder what it must have been like for people who remember both the first cars and the first moon landing.  Imagine going from memories of a horse-drawn milk wagon to "One giant leap for mankind"  My generation certainly can't compete with that continuum of progress, but I've mused countless times about the very unique relationship my mid-60's-born peeps and I have always had and continue to have with the birth and evolution of digital and computer technology.

 What sets today's 50 year olds apart from other age groups today is the timing of technological advances in relation to our stage in life.  It seems to me that I've always been right on the heels of it, with a first row vantage point, but yet inches from grabbing hold.  For example, I remember the very first Texas Instruments calculators.  Not quite pocket size yet, but small enough to hold in your hand.  Red digital numbers appeared as you clicked the buttons to complete simple equations.  They weren't inexpensive either.  I only recall seeing them here and there during my elementary school years.  So there I was, there we were, witness to a new digital technology, able to see it, hold it, maybe fiddle around with it, but too young to have a practical use for it yet.  So maybe by sixth or seventh grade I had my first pocket calculator, and I'll bet it set my folks back quite a few dollars even then.  Certainly not the disposable, and really, now obsolete thing they've become.  Meanwhile...computers that can fit on a table top are about to hit the scene...

 But when they do, and by the time they make their way into the public schools,they're there, but also so few in number that only the National Honors Society students could even take a computer class in high school. To students today that sounds preposterous, but in fact, I could not have taken a computer class to learn how to operate a desktop computer even as recently as 1982.  So again, I'm there, but not really with access to the technology.

 I attended a state university after high school and had not a moments problem meeting all the requirements with nothing more than an electric typewriter.  While personal computers were starting to become somewhat more common, printer quality was in it's infancy, and professors would not in a million years accept a paper printed in early dot-matrix.  So there I was, a twenty-two year old college graduate who quite literally had never used a computer.  But consider that at the same time, computers were becoming quite common in schools and very soon would be found in every classroom right down to the kindergarten room at the end of the hall.

 Eventually I sat down and used a computer. Probably played a game or two.  But we were well into our twenties before most of us considered buying a home computer, and that new, almost inconceivable internet thing didn't come along till we were almost thirty.  I'll never forget the rapt attention of three or four people huddling around a thirteen inch screen, watching in utter amazement as a color picture appeared, line by line from...from where?  From the internet.  whoa.  And we didn't even complain that the download took, oh, about two minutes or so.  That's right kids.  And it was AWESOME!  Also, it was probably something really constructive, like a picture of Kathy Ireland.

 Sometimes I still feel like I'm catching up.  Like tonight when my son laughed at my enthusiasm for throwback Thursday on Facebook by saying, "Dad, that started on Instagram like years ago."  Like I don't care, David, I've caught up to it now and I'm having fun with it.  Tonight I posted a picture of my sister and me from the summer of 1969.  Kids who had never seen a more advanced object than a Polaroid camera, and were pretty wowed by that, in fact.  How far we've come...well, almost - if we ever do catch up.