Yesterday, I had this thought:
I am reading a book made of electrons with a small brick of plastic and glass. While I do this, I am in an alluminum tube thousands of feet in the air, moving at hundreds of miles an hour, taking hours to trace a cross-country route that would have taken a week or more three generations ago. The generation before that might never have thought of taking this route at all.
My life, from a certain point of view, is very weird. From another, it’s perfectly normal.
How will the lives of my great grand children, or those of my friends, be very weird and perfectly normal? What I do today helps make that happen. If I want them to have a life that is weird in a good way, I have to work to make the world better than it was when I found it.
I owe a debt to my ancestors, but I pay it to my descendants.