My dad died in 1996. He never owned a cell phone. He never had an email address. I often daydream about showing him a smartphone. I imagine telling him that this little rectangular machine contains all twenty-some volumes of the Britannica, also the collected works of Shakespeare, and a world atlas. You can use it to listen to all the music and read all the books your heart desires. It gives you live weather reports, breaking news, and the power to communicate in Albanian or Urdu. You can use it to see the opinions and vacation photos of anyone willing to share them, anywhere on Earth, with
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