Going Inkless

It's an unsettling feeling to be halfway through telling someone something and realize that you've said it all before...to the same person. There's doubt, too, because they didn't stop you. So, you try to gauge from their expression whether they really don't remember or are merely being polite by not calling you on it. You continue speaking because you can't be sure, and well, you've come this far already, but underneath it all, you're thinking, oh no, I'm that guy. We've all known someone who repeats their stories or jokes so many times that you wonder if they even notice their audience at all or if they just play back the words in automatic response to a given stimulus. Could they really not remember that you were there the last four times they recounted the funny thing that happened when...? For me, the supreme example would be my Dad, who generally entertains with his nonstop tale-telling on first meeting, but after a few decades...

One of our daughters is earning her B.A. this summer. I suppose it's the sort of thing that happens all the time. Summers are full of graduation celebrations, and it is, after all, the aim of every university to put diplomas in the hands of most of their students. Our daughter's story, while not unique, is certainly notable, though. She is the first in my branch of the family tree to earn one. While my sisters and I, my mother and grandmother all completed high school, and some have even taken college level courses, none have finished with a degree. More common in my family are stories like my father's. He quit seventh grade in order to go to work and help support his family. My great-grandmother had only a year or two of formal schooling before she had to devote herself to the farm. None of these dropouts stopped learning. All recognized the value of education and sought out opportunities to learn. Dad filled notebooks with equations figuring air speed and lift a...