I got an e-mail from my Dad the other day.
That probably doesn’t sound strange to any of you. But it is. You see, my father is 84 and is not exactly a technological sort of fellow. An answering machine is about as high-tech as I’ve ever seen Dad go.
So it was confusing when a message popped into my inbox with an address like rexb19 . I assumed it was another spammer that had culled my name from some obtuse web site (I’m a junior ya’ know). The possibility that it might actually be another Rex B. was far off my radar. I deleted it.
Didn’t think another thing about it until the next day when my Dad casually asks, “Did you get my e-mail?”
About a year ago Dad moved into a retirement community. He kept calling it a rest home. I’d been after him for years to consider it. Since my mom passed away he has pretty much been socially dormant. I suggested it might be a good idea to live in an apartment with other folks around. It took a while but he finally gave in. After a couple of months he realized it isn’t a rest home. He really likes it there and even took a computer class.
He hasn’t become a computer geek by any means. He plays much more solitaire than e-mail. But it’s impressive that even knows which side of a mouse is the business end. I would have never dreamed.