My phone is no longer mine. Has this happened to anyone else? Remember those old days when we all shared one telephone. Perhaps this is how my own mother felt when she picked up the telephone in the house, only to hear my voice chatting with a friend. Sadly, even though I’m now a woman in my thirties, I’m still waiting to use my phone.

My husband and I are Generation Xers fighting our way through a world filled with Tiktok, Snapchat, and Twitter. They allow us to reach the world, and they also allow the world to reach us. Moreover, I think my children shouldn’t be allowed to use my phone or their own phones, definitely not in their bedroom, not after 10 pm or to chat with anyone we don’t know.

We’ve tried to search through the latest parenting advice from experts and medical research available on the use of screens by young children. Finally, we settled on age 13 as a good age to allow our children to use these technological wonders. However, the age restriction hasn’t stopped them from using my phone all the time.

Then COVID-19 hit. The world changed, and so did my phone. During lockdown, my phone acquired Zoom, Marco Polo, and other apps that allowed my children to connect with connections with friends. So I arranged Zoom meetings for my kids, then my phone began to disappear for hours as they shared Marco Polo videos back and forth with their friends.

Even though I’m frequently annoyed because my phone has “walked off” again, my heart is very full. My kids and I are sharing. Were learning to co-exist, to set boundaries, and to think of each other first. Because of my phone, I’m involved in my kids’ lives. I know their friends and their habits, their favorite apps and photos they have taken. Sharing my phone may be difficult, but it’s rewarding; it builds another layer of connection between us.

I will never forget the tenth summer of childhood with my grandfather in western Norway at the mountain farm where my mother was born. As a boy ,I always thought people simply bought whatever they need. Whether Grandfather know this, I don’t know. One day he said, ”Come, I have something for you.”

I followed him to a workroom. “You should have a toy boat. You can sail it at Storvassdal.” He said. Great, I thought,looking around for the boat. But there was none.

Grandfather pointed to a block of wood. “The boat is in there,” he said. Then he handed me some tools and showed me how to use them properly. “It’ll be a fine boat,and you’ll make it with your own hands,” he said, “No one can give you what you do for yourself.” The words rang in my head as I worked. Finished the boat. It wasn’t much to look at ,but I was pound. Then I sailed it at Storvassdal.

We had to return to America. “You cannot bring that boat home with you,” my mother said. We already had too much baggage. Feeling sad, I hid my boat under a big rock at Storvassdal.

I said good-bye to Grandfather, not knowing I would never see him again.

In 1964, I went to Storvassdal with my parents and my wife and children. To my surprise,for 34 years my treasure stayed here,waiting for my return. I felt we three were together again although my grandfather had died 22 years before.

I carved”1930”and”1964” on its side and put it back.

I returned to the lake in 1968,1971,1977 and 1988. Each time I had the boat and carved the year,my grandfather seemed near.

My last trip to Storvassdal was in 1991. I brought my granddaughters: Catherine,13; Claire,12. I hoped they would understand the importance of the little boat and its simple message. At Storvassdal, Claire said softly,‘Grandpa,someday I’ll come back.” She added,”And I’ll bring my children.”

One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the rural areas with the purpose of showing him how poor people lived. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family.

On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, “How was the trip?”

“It was great, Dad.”

“So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?” asked the father.

The son answered: “I saw that we have one dog and they had four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a stream that has no end. We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.”

“Our courtyard reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight. We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us; they have friends to protect them.”

The boy’s father was speechless. Then his son added, “Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are.”

Isn’t perspective a wonderful thing? It makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks for everything we have, instead of worrying about what we don’t have.