Mourning the Loss of What Once Was
Remembering what we lost is precisely the thing that can save us.
What Once Was has been dead for quite some time now. Still, I can’t seem to come to terms with its passing. I’m reminded daily about its former existence — reminders that leave me in a state of disbelief and constantly wondering what the fallout of such an incredible loss will be not only on my kids but on their kids as well.
The thief that killed What Once Was finds its way into the strollers of toddlers. It prevents them from noticing the world around them. How the breeze simultaneously moves the hair on their heads and the towering branches high above them.
This thief disrupts our sleep and our driving. It robs us of time well spent.
I watch as the sun spills in through our massive family room window. Her rays, like outstretched arms, desperately trying to pull my kids away from the thief. But their eyes are locked in a trance. I look to see what they are so fixated on and am surprised to find that they are watching other people play. Playing video games. Playing pretend. Playing mind-numbing games for money. The thief is the face of entertainment of the poorest quality.
Every generation has its share of cultural phenomenon. Times and people change for the better and the…