Sophia is ninety-three. She came to America in the 1940s with nothing but what fit in a suitcase. Lily is her great-granddaughter. Twenty-two. A tomboy, very direct, the kind of person who says what she thinks. Today Lily brings pastries from a bakery downtown. They sit in the kitchen with two cups of hot tea between them. Sophia watches Lily’s hand move to her phone. This time she decides to say something.
“This social media will ruin your generation, honey,” Sophia says. “You are always looking at your phone. When I was your age, we were present during meals. We talked to each other.”
“I am sorry,” Lily replies. “I just checked something real quick.”
“We didn’t have anything to check.”
“How did it make your life better?” Lily asks.
Sophia pauses. “What do you mean?”
“Not having phones, or social media-how did it make your life better?”
“It did not make it better,” Sophia admits. “It’s just we were more connected. We actually paid attention to each other.”
“I am sorry, Grandma, if I made you feel like I was not listening.” Lily says gently. “I was checking my messages.”
“You should spend more time with your real friends, sweetheart,” Sophia says.
“They are my real friends,” Lily explains. “We just communicate differently. It allows us to stay connected when we are far apart. We share our lives through photos, posts, and videos-what we like, what we think, and what is important to us. Why are older people always so afraid of social media? Is it because you don’t understand it?”
Sophia takes a small bite of her cookie and thinks quietly about the question. She remembered how she missed her friends and some family members left behind when she moved to America.
“When I was young, older people were afraid that television was bad for us,” Sophia says. “And when I was a small child, I read books all the time. My parents worried about that, too.”
Lily nods. “ My college professor told us that Socrates was afraid writing would ruin young people. He thought it would make them lose their memories and become lazy.”
“Socrates? That ancient Greek man?” Sophia asks.
“Yeah. He believed writing would make people stupid.”
“Hmm,” Sophia says, setting her tea cup down. “Maybe every generation fears new things because they fear change. It gets harder to accept change as you get older. I would not have moved from a different country if I wasn’t so young at that time. Change is scary as you age.”
She looks at Lily’s phone, then back at her great-granddaughter.
“Or maybe,” Sophia continues softly, “ it’s not just change. Maybe we are afraid of losing the ability to protect you. When I see people in front of me, I can look into their eyes and know who to trust. With that small device, you carry an entire world in your pocket that I cannot see. I just want you to know you are safe, honey.”
Lily stays quiet for a moment, letting the words sit between them. She reaches over and turns her phone face down on the table.
“So it’s not really about the screen,” Lily says. “It’s about wanting us to be safe.”
“It’s always about that,” Sophia says with a quiet smile. “Every generation worries that a new tool will take away the things that keep us human. Socrates worried about memory. My parents worried about reading and television. I worry about presence.”
Lily smiles back. “ I can leave my phone in my bag next time.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Sophia says. “ Now, tell me more about these friends of yours.”
