💧 Scientific Curiosity
[ca. 1974]
One of my earliest memories with my Dad was at our house at 1926 Harris Street in Marysville, California. (We moved from that address when I was 5.)
It was morning, in the kitchen. I recall it being a dimly lit room, with dark wood paneling on the cabinets and a small window over the sink.
Dad asked if I wanted to do a science experiment, and I said sure, not really clear on what any of that meant.
He put some ice in a drinking glass, filled it with water, and placed it on the counter to the right of the sink. "We'll check on this in a little bit."
Some time passed, and we went back into the kitchen. To my surprise, there was water on the outside of the glass!
Dad asked me how the water got there.
I had to hypothesize! And really I didn't know how this miracle had occurred. All I knew is that before there was only water inside the glass, and now somehow it was on both sides of the glass.
And I knew that Dad, in his superior wisdom, knew the answer. He'd known in advance the water would do this. He had a smile on his face that gave it away.
So I took my best shot: "The water," I said, "leaked out through tiny holes in the glass."
He told me that was a good guess.
But I don't recall if he told me the answer. He must have, but it has slipped from my memory. Maybe the concepts were just a bit much for me that early in the morning.