I have no idea what my son is talking about some days, but I comprehend he’s speaking words in a language I understand. What I lack is context on his subject matter. I’ve come to accept he and I live in two totally different worlds, separated by 32 years. It’ll be years before we fully understand each other, slipping into that equilibrium of adulthood. This isn’t because we’re not communicating. Our experiences are taking place in different worlds. We all live inside a bubble floating on the river of time.

Follow me here.

One way to view time is like we’re on a boat floating down a river. I got on in 1968 with my parents and we drifted together for a while until our boats began to separate. We floated in the same part of the river but not as closely. Drifting with the current we see the trees and the buildings and the people approach, pass, and fall behind us. We see the same things for a time, but eventually I’m grown, floating further out, and my bubble grows with my own family. We continue to enjoy similar experiences because we’re sharing the same section of the river, but there are experiences my parents shared long before me. With my father now gone there are new events he’ll never know. And by that law what happens after me will something for my descendents to ponder. But for the time I’m on the river all the happens to me and surrounding me is seen through the bubble of my moment on the river.

It’s a very egocentric view of time, but it’s the only one we have that works for us as individuals. Because we exist as individuals we experience time alone. I can’t feel time for me and someone else; I wouldn’t want to. Our bodies depend on this sense of time to get things done. From our point of view time passes only for us and our small sphere of social influence, giving us only limited access to other groups.

Because our daily lives take place in different worlds we absorb information differently. I’m older with more experience and less likely to see things from a younger point of view. My son’s time on the river being a brief one gives him limited exposure to history, culture, and experience from which to judge. It gives birth to an endless range of awe inspiring moments solely due to the fact there is a time before him.

This bubble theory explains a whole range of things in our lives that annoy us, agonize us, trip us, and drive us insane. Things that happen outside our bubble, things that may seem new or dangerous are to be distrusted when in reality they’re simply part of someone else’s trip on the river. My safe, western existence means my son and I argue over whether or not Agent Coulson should have died in The Avengers instead of whether or not Obama is a socialist. To him the thought of dying in a radioactive flash seems inconceivable yet for a time on my river it struck me with terror. It’s why he thinks the original Red Dawn is a cool action flick and not a sad commentary on Cold War fear run amok. His bubble isn’t big enough to hold my childhood.

In fact, between the sheer volume of what came before combined with a disregard for previous generational knowledge it’s impossible to do more than teach the basic archetypes. Having kids read the “classics” is almost a waste of time with the mountains of similar classics waiting from recent times. In fact, you can see it play out clearly in the battle over the Star Wars Prequels. Lovers of the first three movies universally pan the latter, yet kids of the 2000’s flocked in droves to see them.

This is why we must trudge through reboots and remakes and new takes on old ideas. Today’s kids aren’t going to rent the original RoboCop or Total Recall. Try watching your favorite flick from pre-2000 and not say once, “my phone could do that now.” Explain to your kid why Matthew Broderick is sticking an old phone into a plunger to play War Games. No, they’re going to watch today’s classic and proclaim them insightful and meaningful and they are.

My eyes were once 12 years old. I clearly remember being his age but I’ve been on this river a while now. He and I might not be able to communicate well for now, but once he’s been on the river long enough he’ll start making sense again. We’ll share enough time to understand each other before his bubble departs.

Thankfully my bubble includes things my parents never had. No matter how far he roams we’ll still share some type of bubble with the help of modern conveniences. Perhaps I’ll text him as he floats along.

I just wish I knew what some of his abbreviations meant.