Owen asked me, somewhat abruptly, the other evening an interesting question.
“Why do people in the city hold sticks with speaker things on them at each other?”
I was stumped by the question and he actually asked me a second time, thinking I hadn’t heard the first time. I puzzled and puzzled “until my puzzler was sore” (apologies to Theodor Geisel).
Then, like a wash, understanding came. He was referring to reporters asking questions of other people. This entailed a long explanation of recording devices, microphones specifically, and why we use them and what they do.
It must have been quite a puzzle for him too.
Also, this past Sunday he almost had me convinced of a truth that reminded me of a quote from Allen Ginsberg’s poem America:
“When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks? ”
Owen wanted to know why we pay first for food in a cafeteria (we were at the ROM, where a scanty lunch for one adult and two kids under six plus admission to the museum was 70 bucks. 70 bucks!). “What if we don’t like it?” he wondered. What if, indeed. When buying food, something so core and central to a child’s daily living as is the air they breathe, it should most definitely be something they will like. After this line of query, I was quietly impressed with his observation. He’s a smart little tyke, and not so little any more.