I. Touch.

The other morning, while playing with my Blackberry, Big Z made that now famous backwards pinching motion used to increase the size of whatever-it-is-one-wants-to-look-at on an I-Touch or I-Phone. I had to explain to him that indeed, a Blackberry does not have that capability. Yet.

For a relatively un-tech-savvy girl like myself, it would seem to me that the future is here. I mean, have you checked out the new X-Box? The one where you stand in front of the sensor thing and, using 48 motion points on your body, YOU control the object on the screen. If you are watching a video and want to fast forward you just wave your hand in a forward motion. If that's too much energy, you can simply speak. Say, "X-Box Fast-Forward" or "X-Box Play". Maybe even, "X-Box put away the laundry".

Maybe Not.

I mean, I guess all that's left is a thought Feed. Something tied into our brains that lets us telepathically connect with whatever we happen to be bossing around at the time. I can tell you this, I have tried it with my husband and it doesn't work.

What scares me, as a mother, as a teacher and as a consumer, is that the technology will take over; has taken over. My generation is the last one not to have grown up with cell phones or computers. With Google. With Facebook. Kids have computer games that simulate riding bikes. Call me crazy, but how about you send the kid outside to, oh, I don't know, actually ride one.We make friends online. We research online. Nothing can ever be, will ever be, fast enough.

In one of the vignettes in his quirky little novel about Einstein's theories of Time, Alan Lightman paints the picture of a town that has discovered that the faster they move, the longer they live. Houses whiz by one another on motors. The homes cruise the streets even as the occupants sleep. The wealthier the individual, the faster machinery they purchase to keep them, literally, moving forward. There is, however, a small sect of individuals that have decided to screw it. They refuse to rush around. They eat pasteries at sidewalk cafes. The walk next to rivers. They watch the sunrise.

I want to teach my son and daughter to be those people. Don't get me wrong, they need to be fluent in the technology of their generation, but I need them to look around, too.

I have incredible memories of camping trips of my childhood. Memories that, even now, can make me laugh. Every Summer, my parents would load up the mini-van and drive us to The White Mountains, or Acadia or Prince Edward Island. We would camp and hike. I would bitch the whole time. But, truly, the bitching functioned as (what I now know to be a completely transparent) cover. I didn't want my parents to know that I enjoyed what we were doing.

About 10 years ago, I was fortunate enough to witness a late evening meteor shower. I have never again seen anything like it. Everything had slowed down, and the shooting stars didn't stop coming. I sat inside of a convertible with my eyes on the sky. It was, quite truly, magic. It was a night that has never again been equaled.

At the risk of sounding like one of those walking-to-school-up-hill-both-ways grandparents, you can't get that experience online. You don't need an I-touch to make the sky bigger.

It's perfect just the way it is.