My favorite oldest daughter is upset. “I just can’t deal with this. It’s just too much,” she keeps saying. She’s leaving for a bit. She needs to get out of the house. “I’m going to Starbucks,” she says. “I’ll be back later.” My wife and I say nothing.
You see, the power is out. The big storms that cruised through Monday night left us in the dark. It’s now Tuesday afternoon, and the power company estimates another thirty hours or so before power returns, and the home generator, which kept a few rooms working, died about 3am Monday morning.
My daughter needs her wireless, her internet. Apparently, the LTE signal she’s getting is not quick enough for her, and she has no place to charge her phone, so Starbucks.
We have water here. We have food. It’s cool outside but not cold. We have plenty of clothes and blankets. We won’t freeze. We have places to go to bathe, but she needs her internet. She waited patiently for it to load but the LTE took too long. She needs to Snap and to Insta more quickly. This adversity, well, for the moment, is just too much.
Somehow, she slept through the storms. The rain lashed the house. The wind howled. The power flickered on and off through the night, causing countless electronics to beep each time. My wife and I could hear horns and sirens as tornado warnings sounded. There were sounds of firetrucks and ambulances throughout the night. My daughter awoke the next morning and asked what was going on.
My wife and I were zombies – we had been up all night ready to react to any roof leaks, trees on the house, windows broken, or windows blown open. How she slept through it, I don’t know. My wife and I were boiling a pot of water for coffee on the gas stove still dressed from last night when my daughter walked in in her pajamas.
I suppose there was something that, as a child, I felt I couldn’t live without. Something that I needed so badly that not having it was “just too much” like my daughter and her speedy internet. What was that thing? Was it my love for my stereo? I loved my stereo. My car? Some sort of clothing? I don’t know. What did my parents think when I couldn’t get that thing and it crippled me? I’m sure they worried about me. Worried about my future. Worried about their future if people like me may someday be in charge; the same worries that I have, that we have.
The first comment that I’m aware of about one generation looking at the next and worrying about the future comes from Socrates 3400 years ago. 3400 years ago. So, for centuries, centuries, generations have looked at the generations coming behind them and shaken their heads, and yet we seemed to have made it. We always survive. Things generally get better. 3400 years of precedent suggests it will again.
So, I’ll button my lip, and I’ll drink my coffee. It’s the best I can do. Otherwise, it’s just too much.
I’m Cam Marston, and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
