Today I had an experience I've not had in 10 years -- or more, all things considered.
I was chatting with an old friend of ours outside her apartment, on the lawn. A boy across the street was fooling around with a soccer ball. He's 16, and built like a middle linebacker. She waved to him and said hello.
We were talking for a while, and he must have overheard part of the conversation, which had to do with when I was going to retire already, and I mentioned I was memorizing Paradise Lost of all things (almost halfway into Book 10), and the boy came over.
He was polite and a bit reserved, but obviously smart, as you could tell from his eyes. He was LISTENING. I then asked him whether he was at the local English high school (we are in a partly Francophone part of Nova Scotia), and he said he was at the French school down the street. So I asked him whether for his French literature class he had read Victor Hugo -- I mentioned Les Miserables. (My friend was boasting about me and languages). He said that it was on the list for the coming year, but that they weren't going to assign it as a book; they'd be reading it on line. I said that that was a bad idea, because the computer is mostly a distraction; he agreed.
It was altogether pleasant. He WANTED to meet me, because something we were talking about stirred his interest. I'm not going to let this one drop. Now then, this is the sort of thing that boys used to do all the time. Girls too, for that matter, but the dynamic is a little different. In either case, though, young people liked to hang around the old people, to learn by listening, and occasionally to contribute something of their own. They did so without being invited. It's a kind of gravitation at work.
The business about the computer is, I think, germane. There's another boy, a couple of years younger, whom I've known since he was born. He's the grandson of very close friends here. He used to be open, wide-eyed, interested in everything, very friendly. No more. School and computer games have taken over his mind. I'll go to his house to see his grandparents, and he won't greet me or look at me, not anymore. It's sad, actually. The other day one of his school friends was there, and the friend, sitting at a table with his back to me, did not even turn around.
This is not good. It hurts everybody... us oldsters, too.