What do I miss?

To Social or Not to Social

Happy First Birthday (more or less) to Cranky Dad! Some of you have been tolerating my bad grammar for much longer. Many have recently joined the fun. A handful have moved on to better punctuation. Either way, thank you for subscribing. It means a lot to me that we get to spend a few minutes together every now and then.

Scooters and stickers at the park.

First off, thank you to José Andrés and World Central Kitchen for their incredible work. I’ve met and worked with many amazing and courageous people in my life. Very few are as amazing and courageous as José.

To Social or Not to Social

As you might have heard, Jonathan Haidt is out with a new book, The Anxious Generation, laying out how the “rewiring of childhood,” driven by the ubiquity of smart phones and social media, has led to a crisis in teenage mental health.

I would agree smart phones and social media are some of the great scourges of modern-day America. But, if we are going to be honest, they are also modern-day America. An IG DM is easier than a dinner. A like is easier than a phone call. A share is easier than an email.

While I am enjoying this conversation between Haidt and Russell Moore, it is curious the book has caused a bit of controversy.

“Some academics and scientists remain unconvinced that current evidence shows a causal link between social media and poor mental health,” writes NBC’s Angela Yang. “Christopher Ferguson, a psychology professor at Stetson University, said he believes the concern is part of a recurring moral panic largely driven by older adults.”

I admit that as an older adult, there are few things I enjoy more than a good moral panic about a younger person’s habits. But, at what point will it be okay for Anisa to have a smartphone and social media accounts? As you can imagine, I am rather curmudgeonly about the idea in general. As much as I might agree with Haidt’s conclusion, by the time Anisa is truly interacting with technology, social media and smart phones may be the least of our problems.

With the rise of generative AI, according to the techno-optimist crowd, teachers and tutors will be replaced by algorithms. On one hand, that is great because Anisa will have access to the best instruction money can buy; because, according to our tech overlords, algorithms are cheaper than people.

But there will be costs. Young people will lose their privacy as companies the size of nation-states put their thumbs on the scale of society. Children will burrow deeper into their own worlds, placing more and more pressure on parents. The interpersonal skills that democracies are built upon will further atrophy. There is a version of reality where we are a society of introverts unable to negotiate our differences. Which, if we are honest, isn’t really a society.

Hopefully Toya and I will continue to be fortunate enough to have the time and resources to make sure Anisa has the opportunity to develop real life friendships, develop an understanding of what is real and what is not. The families who don’t have that time or resources? Their best option will be the AI teacher, the chatbot tutor.

There is a future where artificial reality is cheaper than actual reality. A reality where empathy, kindness, awareness are not necessary. A reality where it is exceedingly difficult to reach decisions for the common good - because there is no sense of the common good.

I don’t think we can eliminate the technologies at our fingertips. But I fear it is going to be more expensive than we realize to thrive with those technologies at our fingertips.

Are we really zooming?

So, the other morning I was at SFO at 5:00 am for an aggressively early flight to the University of Chicago Center for Effective Government where I am a Democracy Fellow. I popped into my airline club (don’t hate the player, hate the game), grabbed a cup of coffee and a bagel.

Walking past the front desk, there was fellow traveler wearing the uniform of a Silicon Valley frequent flyer: athleisure wear, fancy headphone case hanging on a roller-aboard that certainly cost more than my last car. In their friendly banter I heard him say, “So happy I got an upgrade.”

I shared his happiness since I too had been upgraded. (Again, hate the game.)

We walked out of the lounge at the same time and he asked, “Are you going to Chicago? What gate was it again?” Perfectly innocent question. If I was sitting next to him, I thought, how bad could it be? I was sure to get a good nap.

I board the plane, and lucky me, am sitting right next to him. We exchange brief good mornings, I settle in and fall asleep before we are pushing back.

Less than 45 minutes into the flight, I hear voices. Actually, just a voice. I open my eyes and realize it is athleisure dude. He’s wearing his headphones and talking. Dictating something? No. Talking to himself? No.

Athleisure dude was on the first of several Zoom calls till we got to Chicago.

This is why we can’t have nice things.

What do I miss?

A couple weeks ago I was in Los Angeles for an event that included a very large number of screenwriters, showrunners and, generally speaking, fancy people. I packed my adult clothes, wore my good shoes and made sure to have the extra cute pics of Baby Girl teed up on my phone’s lock screen hoping someone would offer her a contract.

As some of you know, for many years I sported a severe buzz cut. Which meant I never spent more than $40 a year on a haircut and never worried about hair product. These days, in my Benjamin-Button-old-man-girl-dad life, I have more hair on my head than I know what to do with.

So, of course, in this most important moment of Anisa’s young life, I forgot my hair product. Panicked, I rifled through my toiletry bag looking for an alternative. Toothpaste? Poor dispersion quality. Lotion? Minimal tack. Shaving cream? I didn’t have much left. But it was worth a try.

Lightly massaged a dab through my graying mop. Out I went, hoping no one would ask why I smelled like shaving cream when it was clear I had not shaved.

Did it work? No. It did not. Within hours, my hair was a sad version of a BTS backup dancer. (Sans the skinny jeans.) And, of course, I failed Baby Girl.

The next day, with no other option, I reapplied my shaving cream and met a colleague for breakfast. As we shared stories about the wonders of parenthood, she asked, “What do you miss?”

I was stumped. I could not think of anything I missed from the BBG (Before Baby Girl) times.

See, I was never a person who enjoyed “free time.” I always found something to do. And, at this point, I can still do those things. Early in the morning. Late at night. Or when Toya is kind enough to say, “Go do your thing.”

Plus, it is just a lot of fun reading books with Anisa, chase each other around the house and, just like my Dad would do with his granddaughters, teach Baby Girl how to bang away on various percussion toys while listening to Cowboy Carter. I could not think of anything I missed.

Later that week after I got home, the nieces and nephew from Maryland spent a few days with us. Aziza, my sister’s daughter who lives nearby, joined us for a day trip to a museum. Like all our nieces and nephews, Aziza is a brilliant kid. Kind, empathetic, always surprising me.

The other thing is that out of the lot of them, Aziza got the most time with my parents. She has a particularly close relationship with my Mom (her Nani), and she and my Dad (her Nanoo) were fast friends.  

At lunch, as Toya took care of a cranky Anisa I had failed to sooth, I found myself wrangling the older kids. Trying to get them to focus on their menus, figure out what they were going to order, telling them to sit down, stay off their phones.

As my voice got lower and sterner, Aziza looked up at me from her menu and said in that dry Noorani tone (you know it when you’ve heard it), “Okay, Nanoo.”

At that moment I realized there is one thing from the BBG times can’t be replaced. Only one thing I truly miss.

My Dad.