Closed On Sunday

“Is the internet closed on Sunday?” asked my dad with a laugh in his voice, as he gave me the name of a web site he wanted me to look up for him.

“Of course not,” I said reassuringly – trying not to chuckle.

“Then I’ll be over this afternoon.”

My dad doesn’t own a computer. He doesn’t want to touch one. He knows you can do your bookwork on them. He knows you can write letters and play games and look at family photos on them.

And he knows there is a thing out there called the internet.

I know that my dad will never touch a computer. I know that because it took him five years to trust the microwave oven, and then only enough to warm up his ice cream for ten seconds.

I also know that because he gets awfully mad at his satellite dish when it freezes up, and then mostly because he knows he will have to pull the power cord and start over.

And I know that because he knows that all of his kids and grandkids will do the computing for him – if need be. That is, only if it can’t be done with a yellow legal pad, pen and a calculator. Because he’s a champ at that.

I know that he is amazed at what a computer can do. But I also know that he is satisfied just being amazed.

Dad got here at about 4:30. He and I sat down at the computer and I quickly typed in the web address. Click, click, click and I found the right page. Except it didn’t tell us what we wanted to know. FOR MORE INFORMATION CALL US AT... blah blah blah.

We tried a second web address. The page loaded displaying the following message:

“WE'RE SORRY OUR WEBSITE IS DOWN TODAY FOR MAINTENANCE. TRY AGAIN ANOTHER TIME.”

“I guess the internet is sometimes closed on Sunday”, I said to Dad as I pointed out the message.

He smiled.

I told him I would call them on the phone tomorrow.