Tall Tale

I went to the CN tower some time ago. I don't mean near it - I pass it on most days. No, I went up the tower. They have an observatory close to the top. The view is nice enough, though all told, you're still looking at Toronto, so there's only so much niceness to be got out of it. They really should move the tower to Vancouver - now that would give people a view. Anyway, the point is, the observatory has a glass floor. Most of the glass is carpeted over, but one small slice is left uncovered so that people can experience the joy of vertigo, I guess. On the day I was there, I was joined, among other visitors, by a very sweet young family - mum, dad, a boy of about 5, and his year old sister (asleep on dad's shoulder). The boy, with the typical abandon of young children was prancing on the glass floor, along with the other young kids, many of whom were practically jumping up and down in an effort to break the floor. Dad followed him with marked gingerness. But mum was absolutely terrified. She just refused to go anywhere near that arc of exposed glass. So, of course, the kid made it his mission of the day to get her onto it. He took her hand and tried to lead her to it. He jumped up and down to show the glass was sturdy. He even trotted out the claim the tower employee had made to everyone on the way up - that the floor could take the weight of eleven elephants, so there was nothing to worry about. But mum just wasn't convinced. The whole episode, and espicially the little bugger's insistence on getting mummy on the floor was hugely amusing.

This got me thinking about the nature of belief and knowledge. Most people seem to assume that belief exists only in the absence of adequate knowledge. If you know, you don't need to believe. And yet, here was another case where someone knew there was a floor, could see many other people actually walking on it, and yet couldn't bring herself to walk onto it because she just didn't believe. Sometimes you just have to have faith, I guess.

My musing had got to this point when it was interrupted by one of the sweetest incidents ever. Dad, who had started out gingerly (and had probably walked onto the glass floor purely under the influence of ego) had by now managed to get comfortable. He put the infant, who had woken up, down to crawl about with the other little ones. Then he walked over to his wife, picked her up and took her over to the glass floor. After a while, when she felt confident enough, she stood on the floor while holding onto him. And then, on a little slice of glass on the top of the world, they danced.