Yesterday afternoon I had a meeting via Google Hangouts with 9 people across the US. About 10 minutes after the meeting ended, I Skyped with my sister who lives in Canada. All month I have been writing, sharing and reading slices with people all over the world. It is amazing when you think about it.
In 1982, when I was 17, I left home to spend a year in Denmark as an exchange student. It took about a week to 10 days weeks for a letter to arrive. I only called by parents on Christmas because calls were so expensive. My parents saved all the letters I wrote and still have them.
In 1991, when I was 26, I moved to Colombia, where I spent 3 years teaching at an American school. Letters took 2 weeks. Since the phone was my responsibility, I called occasionally, but not often. It was still expensive.
When I moved back to North America in 1994, I got my first job that had this thing called e-mail and a connection to the internet.
Now, everyone is on the phone everywhere. I can talk to anyone anywhere, or send them an e-mail.
But I sort of miss letters. The anticipation. The reading and re-reading. The thought that something that touched my hand will soon be touching yours.
We have all the connections.
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