Then I chased a dragon fly, all across an ancient sky

I spent the entire day at my parent's house and I'm exhausted. When I got there, my dad asked me to help him drop off some furniture at a consignment shop. No problem; took about twenty minutes. Back at the house, I began my internet tutorial. It took a long time.

I consider myself a six on a scale of one to ten of how computer savvy I am. I can fumble my way around okay, but I'm hardly a maven. I write that with only mild regret; I'll never be a subscriber to Wired and I'm okay with that. I view computers the way I view cars: a means to an end. So, I have my shortcomings, but my compared to my parents I'm Bill Gates.

They needed to be taught how to use the mouse before we got started, which should give you an indication of what I was dealing with. Things I took for granted, like knowing how to turn on a computer or draft an email, were foreign concepts to my parents.

I had to dumb down my explanation considerably more than I anticipated. Once, my mother stopped me in the middle of a sentence and said, "What's that white arrow I see moving around?" After taking a second to figure out she was being serious,I explained to her that it was the cursor. She nodded in mute understanding, but I wasn't sure she knew what I meant. It was then that I knew I had my work cut out for me.What looked to be a relatively quick and painless procedure took hours.

The ego, when given the right circumstance, will assert itself in such a way that it seems aligned with the selfless aspects of one's being, but don't trust it -- the ego is cunning, manipulative, and self serving. Take, for example, a situation wherein the roles have become reversed and the son finds himself teaching his parents. The ego, if allowed room to graze, will pounce on an opportunity like this, puffing out its chest in elitist pride while maintaining a sage-like veneer. I caught myself going down that road more than once today, but I nipped it in the bud. More than anything, I wanted to be helpful and felt sympathy for my parent's in their uncomfortable ignorance, but every so often I found myself feeling a little too good about being my parent's vessel of knowledge with respect to computers.

It was frustrating at times, but we got through it. My dad was keen on checking out Google Earth ("I want to see our house from outer space!") so I showed him the site. We looked at their house from several different vantage points and I showed them mine, which they've never seen before. It was a nice respite after the big information dump I graced them with. My mother, though, didn't want to stay on the site too long.

"Denny, we didn't get this computer for frivolous things like Google Earth. We should be using it for more important things like banking and going over our insurance policy."

"You can use it for a lot of things. It's ok.", I reasoned.

My mother rubbed her temples. "I'm getting a head ache with this whole thing."

I knew of what she spoke.
--
Day one, the baptism by fire, is out of the way. My parent's internet cherry has not been popped, only prodded, but that is alright. Baby steps, I say. Baby steps. I imparted this wisdom to them as we were wrapping it up and calling it a day, but their minds were raw from overuse and unreceptive.

Still, they were appreciative. I was happy to be of service. They have done far more for me than I've ever done for them, so when given the opportunity to be helpful, I jump at the chance. I probably have a better relationship with my parent's now than I ever have. My dad and I talked in the driveway for about a half hour after I said goodbye to my mom. I wouldn't have done that when I was seventeen, I don't think.

When I came home, I prepared dinner. Rich opened his door and was halfway out of his room when he saw me and stopped dead in his tracks. He awkwardly peered left and right in an attempt to convey another reason for his emergence.I'm not positive, but I think I was meant to believe he was coming out to see if his guest(s) had arrived (for the record, he didn't receive any guests subsequent to the incident, which rules out the possibility he really was expecting company). He then backed, yes, backed, into his room and closed his door slowly, like a silky wraith. I had the distinct impression that, by closing his door in that manner, he was trying, like a hypnotist, to lull me into a dreamy state of forgetfulness.

It was apparent he thought I was Janelle, and, when he saw that it was me, was struck by a forceful and insistent urge to flee . His moment of discovery was priceless. His eyes bulged, much the way a hiker's would if he suddenly encountered a bear on the trail. I almost said, "Nope, it's just me. As you were, soldier", but I thought that would have been a little rude, even though what he did could be perceived as being rude. No shit. He may as well have positioned his fingers in the form of a cross and bellowed "Be gone, demon!"

Speaking of being gone, I'm out this piece.