:Reasonable Force

In Singapore, scientists have created a means of transmitting tactile stimulation over the internet via a wireless “vibration jacket” that has been tested on chickens, according to an article at Reuters.com. They propose that their technology could be next used to fashion pajamas for children that would allow them to receive “cyberspace hugs” from traveling parents similarly equipped.

Does this thought give anybody else the willies? I mean, call me a cynic, but I find it hard to believe that this was the first thought of researchers sitting around thinking up uses for a technology that allows for virtual caresses.

With internet p***ography an already skyrocketing problem, it is not difficult at all to envision a cripplingly addictive phenomenon arising from people making use of such technology to enhance their online thrills.

Of course, gamers could also make use of body suits that would enhance the realism of their gameplay. Both potential uses bring to my mind the disturbing account of the Korean man who died after 50 hours of video-gaming in August of this past year.

Up until now, virtual reality has been mere hyperbole, used to describe electronic environments that could only be experiened in terms of sight and sound. Adding the sense of touch to that virtual world presents the potential for forms of escapism that I fear many will find tempting enough to forsake the real thing.

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My grandfather, whom I always addressed as “Granddaddy” when I was younger, died this past week after a long period of decline that seemed to accelerate these past few weeks after he left his home of 90-plus years. I have struggled with what kind of post I wanted to write, but found that my sister has said about all I could have, and likely said it better.

Her recollections of our barn-exploring brought back fond memories for me, and I think there are a few other things I can add.

His house was so old, and my youthful mind so full of fancy, that I was sure that it must contain secret passages somewhere. Never mind that it really wasn’t that big of a house. It just seemed so because, well, because we were small, but also because we always went in from the back where the land dropped off a bit and we climbed a rickety set of stairs that rose above a cellar. Ah! The cellar was another thing that added mystery to the place. Accessible through full-sized doors, one on each side of the stairs, this was a perpetually gloomy, musty darkness, packed with relatively mundane things such as bushel baskets and tools. But the dim light at the front receded into blackness farther back, and the support beams of the house overhead were home to an intriguing sort of bee that built nests resembling a pan flute right on the surface of the wood.

Farm stuff can be really cool to suburban kids.

As for the man himself… the thing that always struck me about him was how slowly and deliberately he spoke. His was a life lived at a different pace than any I’ve ever known. To have a conversation with him forced one to practice patience, yet I never found it difficult (and I’m not a patient person). It just really gave me the sense that always being in a hurry is a foolish and largely unnecessary thing.

Some time in the last few years I made a point of asking him very specifically if he was trusting in Christ for the forgiveness of his sins. My sister pointed out his lifelong membership in the Lutheran church, but many people make a tragic error of assuming that their church membership grants them a pass to heaven rather than ever actually repenting of sin and trusting in Christ for the remediation of it. I’m glad I asked the question.

Like blestwithsons, I wish I’d known him better. I look forward to one day knowing him better, to knowing more fully who he is, than I ever could have on this earth. We’ll all be able to look directly on each other without having our vision obstructed by the baggage of mortality, further weighted by all of our ill choices and unfortunate circumstances.

How surprised I think we’ll all be!

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What does it say about me that I still haven’t managed to finish Lewis’ Problem of Pain, though it is an interesting and not terribly difficult read, yet I’ve ripped through James Clavell’s 1210-page Shogun in roughly a week? Essentially, that my brain wants to be entertained more than it wants to be expanded.

Sort of like muscles, I suppose. You’ve noticed, I’m sure, that when your muscles are worked they tend to complain about it. My brain doesn’t hurt when it’s worked, but it does resist by leaping to every conceivable distraction within reach. I’ve just come off of a weekend largely spent watching football at both the collegiate and professional level. Aside from the sermon on Sunday morning, not a single moment was spent on anything remotely edifying.

On the upside, I did thoroughly enjoy the samurai epic and both my football teams thrashed their opponents. I guess I’ll just thank God for simple pleasures and proceed to bend the grey matter to more edu-muh-cational pursuits.

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