58.0°,
Partly Cloudy Dropped connections, from planet to planet
Last week I hopped on an airplane, and from where I was — Sarasota, Fla. — I flew 13 hours to California, a distant planet on the craggy edge of the American continent.
Although I was still technically in the United States, a sense of foreignness infused the surroundings: the giant redwood growing next to the Australian palm, the drifting fog, the bumper- to-bumper freeways.
We traveled west to see our children, who are working in northern California, perhaps temporarily, perhaps permanently. If they stay, if they relocate, they will take with them a living, breathing part of our hearts — the grandchildren. These things happen. Families move apart; it’s the American dream to go west.
But my kids live on another planet as well, the planet of 30-something, youthful promise, where everything is possible. We taught them that. With Skype and airplanes and iPhones, what’s the big deal being 3,000 miles away?
Which leads to two other planets, the planet of the heart and the planet of the mind. The mind (theirs and ours) dictates that every adult must do what he or she wishes to realize his dreams and fulfill his destiny. Didn’t we raise our kids to feel entitled, and reinforce the message every minute of every day that they own all the rights to do whatever makes them happy, and furthermore, they deserve that happiness?
It makes perfect sense, intellectually.
The planet of the heart, however, is some distance from the mind. It beats a different message: We don’t live forever. The most important element of human life is meaningful connection. When we are lucky enough to find love in our spouses and children and grandchildren, we need to look into their eyes, hold their hands and wrap them in our arms, the same way we need to breathe.
If they lived in California before the transcontinental railroad, and we lived on the East Coast, it would take a wagon train and six months to make the journey. The price of a visit would be months of time and the perils of hostile Indians, starvation and the blizzards of the far west.
