My daughter (she’s 11) and her friend begged me to let them use my laptop a few weeks ago to watch a movie in her room, since my boys were watching some movie with stuff blowing up. I relented, but requested that they use earphones so the boys wouldn’t know. My gal pulled out the pair she’d just bought with allowance money and lent her original pair to the friend, then they turned to me and asked,
“Do you have a splitter?”
I said no, my laptop has two headphone jacks so we wouldn’t need one.
Then it occurred to me: “how come my 11 year old knows what a splitter IS and what it’s FOR?” I certainly didn’t when I was her age. So I asked, “how the heck do you know what a splitter is?”
Her friend turned to me and said, very gently,
“Nancy, we’ve grown up with this technology. WE (gesturing to herself and my girl) are natives.”
“YOU are an immigrant.”
But so very true.
On that note, I’m introducing a new face, a new name, and a new voice to the Lunchsense blog. Meet Chris Naugle: Born on the East Coast and raised and educated in the Midwest (Uof Missouri) and Northwest (U of Oregon), Chris now resides quite happily on the West Coast as married father of two elementary age boys. Chris says he is living the Great American Novel before hoping to someday commit it to paper or at least the internet. And this is what I get for asking for a bio at 10 pm and receiving it around midnight: He is mostly exhausted.
He also happens to be a dynamic, opinionated writer who can not only complete a sentence, he can even turn a phrase.
Perhaps you assume,
“Oh, Nancy (being an immigrant) needed a tour guide to navigate this online, technology-infused world, so Chris is the go-to guy.”
Um, no, that’s not it. Chris is also an immigrant. He’s joining me on this undertaking because as a small biz owner there’s just not enough of me to get everything done, and he’s a fine writer to boot. We immigrants to ANYTHING just need a little extra help now and then to “keep all the plates spinning,” as the old saw goes.
So then, say hello to Chris, and wish him well (and a little sleep).
Here’s that pesky postscript: after my daughter, her friend and I had that above exchange, my girl said, “Mama, don’t put that on Facebook.” This has become her stock statement after anything funny, embarrassing, or even mildly insightful and interesting comes forth. As always, I agreed to respect her wishes and keep it off Facebook.
But she never mentioned the blog.