The Decline of Youth

Every day has its highs and lows, just like they always have. High point: I was offered a job. (Well, not formally, but I was on the verge.) A pretty good one too, except that it would mean moving to New York. Twenty years ago? No problem, sign me up. Ten years ago? Yes, we’ll go. Even five years ago, when I was actually hired by a New York publisher -- who wanted me for my Chicago expertise -- we would have considered it seriously. Now? I look around, see my house, my child of two, the school that my child of seven can walk to. No, sorry. But I probably will be doing some writing for this company before long, from my little desk in the Chicago suburbs.

Low point: When Ann decided to remove her diapers, which were heavy with a recent deposit, before I could do to the job. This happens sometimes now, and it probably means that her development is proceeding normally. I don’t remember Lilly doing that, but then again you forget a lot. Ann’s also able to eject a video tape at its end, push the tape in again, and press the start button, thinking that it will play again. She’s still missing that critical step called rewind. When she understands that, I guess she won’t be a toddler anymore.

Yet in the future, when everyone uses DVDs or whatever medium will come to the fore in the coming years, no one will need to learn the patience involved in rewinding a tape. The same goes for audio. If I believed in such nonsense, I’d take it as another (small) sign of the decline of youth.