Digital Cowboy

Yesterday someone I love and respect emailed me to say that she had recently “checked in” on me by coming to my blog.

She told me that she was expecting kid stories and instead “Man, you’ve become political!”

She meant nothing by it but it made me reflect. When I did, I realized that it’s gotten angry around here again.

So here’s a “kid story.”

I bought my daughters a digital camera for Christmas. I remember when I got my first camera… I rode my bike a few miles, door-to-door on a few rural, country blocks selling greeting cards to earn it. And it was cold. Then I got it and realized that it would require my entire allowance to feed it.

As a result, I became quite stingy about taking pictures. Every one had a price tag.

Not so with my kids. Pictures are free and can be snapped whenever the urge hits. Thank God for technological advances! I take joy in the fact that my little girls aren’t limited like I was.

So a couple days ago they said, “Dad, how do we get the pictures off our camera and on our computer?” (I was older than either of them before I had my own computer, too.)

Being a dad, I responded with, “You tell me. Surely it came with a manual and a cable or something. I would imagine that you’ll have to find some way to connect it.”

They figured it out and then promptly walked away from the computer and went outside to play. “Why did you leave your camera here burning batteries and walk off?!?”

“It’s still working. It takes a lot longer with our camera than yours, Dad.”

Their camera is better than mine. I was perplexed. I investigated. It was taking a while, indeed. They had 452 pictures to move. Four hundred and fifty freakin’ two!

That would have cost me around three years of allowance with my camera when I was their age.

A year ago, it would have cost a year of their allowance to store that many pictures on a memory card.

Next time I’ll tell you about their online poker debt. They owe me six dollars, Sharkscope is now even more inaccurate than I previously asserted and they seem to think that they can play for real money on my Full Tilt account without any accountability.

When I tell them they owe me six dollars, they giggle. I’m not letting this go. It’s a matter of principle. Gambling debts must be paid. I learned that from a Greek guy named Danny.

Every promise has a cost and every debt must be paid.

He had a bat. I’ll be kind and patient.