I took computers in high school. I would do all my own

In the dawn of the digital age, before the hum of machines filled every home and the glow of screens became the hearth of modern life, Craig Hatkoff looked upon the early world of computers and saw in them only instruments of data — cold engines for calculation, tools for ledgers and lists. “I took computers in high school,” he said. “I would do all my own programming, but I didn’t see the future of computers for anything other than data processing. Who was going to use a computer for communications?” In these words lies both humility and revelation: the acknowledgment of how narrow human foresight can be when the future is still wrapped in shadow.

In the style of the ancients, we might say this: even the wisest seer cannot always divine the storm that rises from a whisper. The world changes not with thunder, but with the soft tapping of keys. Hatkoff’s reflection reminds us that every great innovation, every revolution of the human spirit, begins as something ordinary — dismissed, misunderstood, even doubted by those who first behold it. The future is not a sudden flame; it is a slow kindling, built by those who dare to imagine what others cannot yet see.

Consider the tale of Alexander Graham Bell, who, when he unveiled his invention — the telephone — was met with skepticism and laughter. Men of learning declared it a novelty, unfit for serious use. “Who,” they asked, “would ever want to speak across wires when one might send a letter instead?” Yet within a generation, those same wires became the lifeblood of connection between families, nations, and hearts. What Bell endured, Hatkoff echoes in retrospect: the blindness of the present to the possibilities hidden in its midst.

So too did the ancient inventors of letters face disbelief. When the scribe Cadmus brought writing to the Greeks, some protested that memory would decay and wisdom would vanish. They feared the loss of old ways, not perceiving that the written word would preserve human thought beyond the reach of time. Every new creation seems foolish until it becomes indispensable. Thus, Hatkoff’s words are not merely about computers — they speak to the eternal rhythm of human discovery, where ignorance is the soil from which enlightenment blooms.

The lesson is this: never dismiss what you do not yet understand. The seed of tomorrow often looks like folly today. In Hatkoff’s time, computers were hulking machines, confined to universities and government offices — symbols of bureaucracy, not imagination. Yet within those humming towers lay the spirit of connection that would one day bind the world together through the internet, through communication, through shared dreams across digital seas. What once processed data now carries laughter, love, and learning to every corner of the Earth.

Let us, then, walk with humility before the unknown. When we behold new inventions, strange ideas, or the bold visions of the young, let us not turn away in mockery or fear. The future has always been born from the unseen and the unlikely. To embrace it requires faith — not blind faith, but the wise trust that within every human endeavor burns a spark of divine curiosity. For what are humans but explorers of possibility, seekers of meaning in the wilderness of invention?

Therefore, dear listener, if ever you encounter something that seems absurd or unnecessary — a new technology, a new thought, a new way of being — remember the words of Craig Hatkoff. Remember that even he, a man of intellect and invention, could not foresee the great web of communication that would one day unite the world. Let this truth humble your pride and sharpen your wonder. Let it teach you that progress is not the triumph of certainty, but the courage to see beyond the limits of your own vision.

And so, the teaching is clear: do not look upon the new with scorn, but with curiosity. Be like the traveler who, upon reaching a fork in the road, does not turn back, but chooses the path shrouded in mist. For in that mist lies the future — vast, mysterious, and waiting for those brave enough to believe that what seems impossible today will one day become the heartbeat of tomorrow.