I remember my father unpacking an America Online box and then waiting 45 minutes while his computer made a series of strange noises. My brother and I stood behind him, joking about how long this was taking — logging onto the supposed “information superhighway.”
The computer sat in a corner of the living room, next to his record player, where my brother and I would make mixtapes off his vinyl, using a boombox and blank cassettes. I could not have known that within a few years I’d be downloading MP3s from my dorm room, the record player and boombox already feeling like ancient artifacts. But I remembered watching my dad unpack the “internet” box — so I was open to what came next.
