Light leaked through the Colonel's eyeball covers and woke me early this morning and as I stumbled kitchen-ward to push the biggest cup button on my new early Father's Day gift--a high speed, low drag, single-serving, caffeine delivery system--it occurred to me that I just might be experiencing the same technological marvel-filled life span that 30 years ago made me envy my grandparents.
My grandparents were born before the Wright Brothers cobbled together an innovation and ushered in an epoch. They lived to see man sprint into space in less than sixty years from that first break with the surly bonds of earth. They grew up during an age in which radio was the height of mass communication, witnessed the introduction of television, and marveled at the the first remote controlled channel changers.
Last night, as I watched my Ole Miss Rebels baseball team, playing in a ball park that would have amazed Ruth, on a field which 35 years ago had been a kudzu-ringed flat spot on the edge of campus upon which I stood in ROTC formations, win their NCAA Regional, live, on my computer's display, I realized that someday my grandchildren will marvel at the historically significant span of MY life. It is startling to know that my grandparents would envy the breadth of technological advance with which my life has been coincident.
The thought occurs, as the caffeine courses blessedly through my system and super-charges the few remaining cognitive cells lying in an amorphous pool of goo in a deep recess of my brain-housing group, that, if my gracious God allows, I may yet witness things only dreamt of today become reality in the next 35 years of my existence on this big blue marble.
A mud-free hover tractor would be nice.