Progress

I worry about my kids. It seems to me like the last few generations had more opportunities than the ones before it. My parents had an easier time than their parents, and I had more chances than they did. I feel fortunate. The hard work I was willing to put forth coupled with the place and time I was in, set me on the path to success. I'm worried that my children will have a tougher time. They will have to accept a lower bar of success than what Lisa and I have achieved.

Or will they? Having a great education leading to a high paying job doesn't guarantee you fulfillment. I know that, yet as a parent, this is what I fret over. If I'm being honest, I might be better at the American Dream than the generation after me, but my kids are better people than I am. They are more loving, kind, and content. They have a maturity and perspective that I'm just now starting to grasp.

I remember listening to George Carlin with my parents in our living room. My dad was given a cassette tape, that I would rewind with a pencil whenever our player would eat and spit the tape everywhere. One bit I remember he called the Paradox of Time.

This was one of the few times listening to Mr. Carlin, that my family didn't laugh. I look back on his insights now, not just as a condemnation on our society, but more of a reminder of how I want my children to live. How I want to live. I've wasted too many years trying to make a living, rather than a life. Never again.

The Paradox of Time

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.

We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time;

We have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.

We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life; we’ve added years to life, not life to years.

We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We’ve conquered outer space, but not inner space.

We’ve done larger things, but not better things.

We’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.

We’ve split the atom, but not our prejudice.

We write more, but learn less.

We plan more, but accomplish less.

We’ve learned to rush, but not to wait.

We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw-away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer to quiet, to kill.