Friday, September 08, 2023

1994

It was one of those moments the whole world was about to change but we didn’t know it at the time. Or why.

Twenty-nine years ago yesterday, my wife and I were celebrating the birth of our child — her first and my fourth, a son. When I located my old hand-written journal from 1994, a small paper note slipped out of it.

It turned out to be the printed notice we sent out to friends and family with the news of Aidan’s birth. A paper note on card stock — how charming that seems in retrospect! Over the next few years we welcomed two more babies into our world, another son and a daughter, but I don’t think by then we were still sending out print notices.

The reason is simple — email. In 1994, we were just beginning to have email accounts and they had not yet become our primary means of communication. Time-honored traditions like birth notices were still in vogue, but they would soon seem quaint as we all moved en masse to the new electronic mail platform.

The Internet changed everything. My career as a print journalist was effectively over and my new career as a Web-based journalist was about to begin. Soon I would be lugging a laptop everywhere, and logging hundreds of email messages per day.

We didn’t realize it at the time, but the newspapers, magazines and book publishers that had sustained journalists like me were all going to be disrupted to the point nearly of extinction. They continue to suffer to this day.

I realized that my son’s childhood would be fundamentally different from mine, though I couldn’t have imagined the gaming/cellphone/social media revolutions that were brewing for him and his generation.

So discovering that little slip of yellowing paper was for me a both a nostalgic relic and a reminder of the moment when a new world was born and an old one was slipping away.

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