DADWAGON

This is an eventful week! Monday was International Grover Appreciation Day, and Tuesday was almost as momentous: It was on February 16, 1978, that software developers Ward Christensen and Randy Suess invented the Internet. Okay, they weren’t exactly creating it from scratch, or even starting the World Wide Web—but it was the beginning of the BBS, or electronic bulletin board system, a network of loosely linked online communities, accessible by modem, that occupied my thoughts and dreams throughout much of high school.

Oh, those days of printing out reams of bad jokes from a dumb terminal! arguing with anonymous Ayn Rand die-hards! debating the merits of US Robotics’ HST vs. traditional modem standards! and, of course, downloading ASCII porn! Yes, I was a geek.

But an odd kind of geek. As much time as I spent online, I was also a skateboarder, one who hung out with a weird array of misfits and geniuses. Going further back in time, the same dichotomy applies: I whiled away afternoons soaking up “The Tomorrow People” and “Dangermouse,” a tub of Breyer’s mint chocolate chip on my lap. Also, I’d meet up with numerous and varied friends to explore the creek behind my house or the chain-link-fence maze at UMass.

If there’s anything uniting these two perhaps-antithetical behaviors, it’s that I engaged in them with a near-total obliviousness to–I guess you’d call it–reality. My friends, some poor and troubled, others rich and even more troubled, were my friends precisely because I entirely failed to notice external circumstances, focused as I was on pages of BASIC code and the myths behind the Monster Manual.

When I got older, this became a bit of a problem, although my humiliations were generally internal and private: I’d suddenly realize I’d said or done something crass and insensitive—sometimes years later—and blush for no reason apparent to anyone else. But with each cringe-making epiphany, I was emerging from my geek shell, and learning to navigate the wider world.

All of which is to say, if my Sasha shows signs of geekery early on, well, what am I going to do about it? Distract her from hacking Facebook? Force her to play with the kids downstairs? Geeking out is a state of mind more than anything else, an ability to focus on the minutiae of life (and A-life) and, in children at least, to master a small corner of a wider world that, in general, they have no control of over. To deny a kid that control is pointless at best (a geek will always find a way), and at worst a cruelty.

So, is it wrong to raise a geek? It’s not wrong—it’s impossible. Geeks are born, not raised.

The Olympics, as Christopher noted yesterday, are an excellent entertainment for those who like to almost-cry. But they’re also excellent material for those of us who like to watch journalists randomly try to explain things—things like U.S. downhill skier Bode Miller’s change of attitude.

Once a real bad boy, he’s now, um, not so bad. So says the AP:

His teammates, his agent, even his rivals, say Miller seems to be a different guy this time around.

If so, maybe it’s because Miller considered retiring six months ago. Maybe it’s because he’s now the father of a toddler. Maybe it’s because there is less attention, fewer sponsor commitments, not as much “minutiae,” as Miller called it.

And so says Philadelphia Inquirer sports columnist Phil Sheridan:

Miller seems just plain mellower, maybe a bit more mature. Age will do that. So will fatherhood. He has a 1-year-old daughter now. There are still signs of the old bristly Miller, but he sounds all warm and fuzzy talking about his renewed commitment to skiing.

Now, I’m willing to buy the hoary old line that Becoming a Parent Changes Everything. But making you a better athlete? That seems unlikely, at least as far as I’ve experienced.

In the 14 months since Sasha arrived on the scene, I’ve twice completely abandoned any exercise routine, I’ve spent months mired in sleep-deprivation, I pulled a muscle in my shoulder, I’ve been hit in the face with various plastic toys, and my lower back is killing me for reasons that were mysterious until I talked to my doctor. “How much does your daughter weigh?” he asked. Oh, right.

And so I say to you, Bode Miller: Yeah, you did all right. But can you imagine how much better you’d have skied without the health and welfare of your daughter weighing on your mind and body? Dude, you only took bronze! Maybe she made you a little too mellow?

And to your hagiographers: Could you find a new father (or mother) who placed last, just for comparison?

Well, that depends on how you define a geek. By most measures, I certainly am one. I own multiple soldering irons. Just the other day, I trashpicked a broken stereo turntable and got it working again, and hooked it up to my computer so I can start recording MP3 files off my old LPs. And I think a lot about whether a kid unlike me might be happier, or have an easier life. As Dadwagon reader Alexander pointed out to us (thanks), I’m not the only dad wondering about this.

If a geek is a kid with a focused and single-minded interest in the inner workings of bugs or fish or microprocessors, you bet your ass that’s a good thing. The number of engineers and scientists coming out of the American school system is way lower than it ought to be, and when you subtract the overseas students who will go back home after they’re done with their schooling, we are facing a serious drought. (We’re doing great when it comes to producing Creationists, on the other hand.) If my kid tells me in a few years that he wants to be an icthyologist, we’re heading to the aquarium-supply shop the next Saturday morning.

But I suspect you think those interests come at a price. One does tend to find that people who so single-mindedly embrace any field, especially  in the hard sciences, tend to be … how to put this nicely? … less sociable than their classmates. A lot of people believe that’s inherent. Computer geeks, it would seem to some, prefer coding to people, are more comfortable in the definable realms of silicon and NAND gates than in that of human emotions.

I don’t buy it, though. The fact is, I am the biggest geek you’ll meet, and I had my share of awkwardnesses as a teenager. (More than my share, actually. I bore the load of an entire nerdy regiment.) I have not forsaken my geekery, either. Yet I have carved out a career for myself in a business that values easy small talk, confident polish, and the ability to chat people up so smoothly they don’t know they’re giving up information till they’ve seen it in print. Those things may be learned, even in adulthood, the way I went at them.

All of which goes to say: My kid’s going to grow up among smart adults who’ll talk to him seriously. I have no doubt that he’ll be well enough socialized to get through whatever’s required of him. But if he also gets that (increasingly rare) gift of math and science ability, shot through with focus and determination, I’d be nuts to get in his way. He can worry about talking to girls a little later. If he’s really good at what he does, in fact, that won’t be a problem.