Charlie and I were watching the Celtics playoff game last night. The Celtics took a huge lead early on and thankfully refused to give it up, so Charlie grabbed his iPad, keeping one eye on the game and the other on something on his own screen.
Then I heard him say, “Chernobyl.”
“What did you say?” I asked.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Who were you taking to then?” I asked.
“The internet.”
I leaned over and saw that he was using voice recognition to search the internet. “Why are you reading about Chernobyl?” I asked.
“We learned about it in school today,” he said. “I wanted to know more.”
I was pleased. With few people encouraging me as a child, curiosity saved my life. My desire to know things when no one was insisting that I work hard in school turned me into an avid, relentless reader and allowed me to earn excellent grades in school even when no one was checking my report card and college seemed like an impossibility.
Somewhere along the way, I thankfully developed into a lifelong learner, and it kept my head in a book, my eyes on the news, and my brain constantly processing new information. Even today, I find myself doing deep, years-long dives into subjects that have changed my life for the better.
A minute later, Charlie said, “Radiation.”
Then “Exclusion zone.”
Then “Graphite.”
Then “Meltdown.”
Having read extensively about Chernobyl and understanding the causes of the accident, I could see exactly where his rabbit hole was taking him.
I was suddenly incredibly jealous of Charlie’s ability to learn so much, so easily. In the midst of watching a basketball game, he started wondering about a topic he had learned about in school.
Seconds later, he was deep into that topic.
When I was his age, that same kind of research would’ve required a trip to the tiny, one-room library in the basement of the Blackstone Town Hall, hoping to find a single book on the subject. It would’ve taken hours of effort for singular answers that are now available by simply asking a hand-held machine to deliver them instantaneously, in text, image, and video form.
Incredible.
Then again, when I was Charlie’s age, I was also able to ride my bike to the library without request or supervision. I swam in ponds and rivers with my friends, unsupervised by adults. Played midnight basketball at the middle school before walking home alone near daybreak. Climbed impossibly high trees, became helplessly lost in unknown forests, and rode horses bareback.
Also, I had Larry Bird.
Jason Tatum is a great player. Marcus Smart is incredibly fun to watch. Grant Williams is on the verge of stardom.
But none of them are Larry Bird.
Still, as a father, it’s kind of thrilling to watch my son keep one eye on a Celtics game while focusing the other on science and geopolitical history.
The kids are alright.
