We affectionately call my youngest grand-daughter “Verbal” after the amazing character played by Kevin Spacey in The Usual Suspects.  She is about to be 7 but she has been able to execute a spontaenous stream of conciousness monologue using visual cues from her immediate surroundings for the better part of the last 2 years.
Have a paper clip on your desk while a bird flies by the window and you will be in for a 10 minute dissertation on the likelihood that certain shiny things can make animals fly.  There is something hypnotic about observing how her mind takes you places you didn’t really plan on going.

My wife and I were watching the CBS Sunday Morning show this past weekend.  It was their 30th anniversary and they spent most of their journalistic time relating to us the changes that have occurred since 1979.  One story lamented the “death of the Record Store”.   The reporter was agonizing over the closing of Virgin Records, delighting in the demise of CDs and hoping against hope that vinyl would return to the musical forefront.  He apparently felt that music you could touch was somehow better than music you could only hear.  Melinda immediately streamed into the demise of the library’s card catalog and how difficult it is for her to do her research on the internet compared to the way she used to do it.

As I wander the streams of my conciousness trying to find my way to a better place I lament the increased removal of tactile sensations in the name of digital progress and contemplate whether this is the root cause of  a certain loss of personal wonder and imagination that is so very much alive and well in my grandchildren. 

Then I realize I have work to do and get back to it, only before I do, I walk over to my digital jukebox and, quite efficiently, select and crank up the volume on some of my favorite tunes because, as the Doobie Brothers would say,

“Oh Oh Oh, LISTEN to the music”