At first I thought it was a joke.

Like the satirical Funny or Die video "Muslim-Meet," which offers "a surefire way to cure your Islamophobia." That video spoofs ignorant Americans being introduced to a random Muslim American and discovering their commonalities, like living in an apartment, loving soup and watching Netflix, "just like me."

The conceit of the two-minute video is humanizing a regular human to those who would believe that Muslims have retractable horns growing from their heads. It makes us laugh because the notion is so obvious, it's silly.

Well, perhaps not so obvious.

Scott McNorton, 35, an undergraduate student at the University of Wisconsin-Superior, was so fed up with the anti-Muslim bigotry he heard that he felt motivated to do something to counter it. He didn't have any Muslim friends, nor did he know much about Islam. He grew up in Waynesboro, Virginia, about three hours south of D.C., where he said a lot of people were just like him: white and middle class.

Shortly before Christmas, he was sitting in the university's student center and saw a Muslim student wearing hijab walking across the room. He approached her and asked if she would mind taking a selfie with him.

Understandably, she was a little puzzled by the request from a stranger. She's a student, not a campus attraction, after all. He explained to her that he wanted to post pictures of himself with Muslims to help educate others who have never met a Muslim. This was his attempt to promote tolerance through exposure.

"Oh yes, that would be awesome," she replied, gave him a high five and thanked him for the selfie.

Thus began #SelfiesWithMuslims. At first he would post the images on his own Facebook page, beginning each status with "One day a Christian man meets ..." and briefly describe the encounter and Muslim he met. He has since created a separate page, which has garnered thousands of likes from around the world.

In an interview with a local paper, he said he wants people to see that Muslims enjoy being outdoors, playing sports, watching Netflix, playing video games and hanging out with friends. One of the women from his selfie encounters concurred, adding that she likes to eat bagels with Nutella, too.

It would seem satirical if McNorton wasn't so genuinely earnest and if the Muslims he approached weren't so touched and thankful for his gesture. The project has led him to visit local mosques and get to know a community he knew nothing about before.

Ironically, the social media project was inspired by GOP presidential hopeful Donald Trump. After McNorton heard his call for ban on Muslims entering America, a proposal denounced by the majority of Republican officials and candidates, he could not stay silent.

"I grew up in a family that was very high on morals and values and respect," he said. "It is ridiculous that someone has to stand up and say something. But it's not about being a Catholic, like me, or a Muslim. It's about being a decent human being to another person."

Imagine how bizarre #SelfiesWithaJew or #SelfiesWithaChristian or #SelfiesWithanAgnosticWhoStillLikesToCelebrateChristmas might sound.

McNorton's efforts seem less ridiculous given the backdrop. He grew up in the same county as Riverheads High School, where a teacher recently drew national attention and local fury for giving geography students a lesson that included information on Islam and Arabic calligraphy. And Bruce Hagen, the mayor of Superior, Wisconsin, where McNorton now lives, has come under fire for a recent Facebook comment. Under a picture of Michelle Obama, Hagen wrote: "Unbelievable! She and her Muslim partner have destroyed the fabric of democracy that was so very hard fought for."

Obama has repeatedly said he is a Christian. Hagen has since apologized and accepted an invitation from the Muslims in his community to meet them for a meal at their mosque.

McNorton said he wants his own two children to learn the same values his mother taught him.

"I want them to see that it's OK to put yourself out there. It's OK to learn from others. It's OK to educate others."

He's been overwhelmed by the hugs, smiles and encouragement he's received from random Muslims he's met. One of them, Ahmed Maamoun, is an assistant professor of Marketing at the University of Minnesota Duluth. He met McNorton at a recent Friday prayer service.

"Thank you for what you are doing for us," Maamoun said to him, gladly posing for a group selfie.

McNorton says that while the reaction has been overwhelmingly positive, he's gotten a few negative messages. Some people are upset by his wanting to portray Muslims as normal people. One person said he hopes McNorton "gets taken out" for what he's doing.

"People want to scare me," he said. "I'm not scared."

We've gotten to the point where some Americans are so upset by the message that Muslims are normal people that they would wish death upon that messenger.

Sometimes it's difficult to distinguish reality from satire.

A year ago, Tony Krieg, 43, witnessed a scene in a restaurant that changed his retirement plans.

He watched as parents brought their young son to a Texas Roadhouse restaurant for a birthday party. The parents steered the boy, who looked to be about 9 years old, by guiding him from the back of his head while he stared down at his iPad.

"Not once did that little boy look up" through the entire party, he said. After that encounter, Krieg sold the St. Louis-area electronics-recycling business he had run for 18 years and purchased his dream property: a 167-acre farm in Dittmer, Missouri.

He's decided to use that farm to invite families to spend a day away from their devices and learn a little bit about life away from constant connectivity.

"The goal is to get kids off electronics and show them there is a life outside of that, especially in the outdoors," he said. There will be fishing, hiking, arrowhead hunting and creek exploring, along with short presentations on topics like recycling, composting and gardening.

Calling the effort Missouri Kids Unplugged, Krieg has filed it as a nonprofit, set up a website (missourikidsunplugged.zone) and planned a fundraiser for March to cover some expenses. Last year, he estimates spending between $12,000 to $15,000 out of pocket so that 400 people could visit and take part in activities at the farm. He also provided food and some entertainment. He and his family want to try to offer the visits for free to thousands of children, including inner-city kids who may never have been to a farm before.

He and his wife have four children, ages 16 to 23, and they have always enforced some rules around technology use.

"We're not talking about living off the grid," he said. "We're talking about common sense boundaries. Let's have families again."

Ronald Dahl, professor of community health and human development at the University of California, Berkeley, spoke recently about adolescent brain development at a seminar for education writers. I asked him about the long-term impact of screen-saturated childhoods on teenage brains.

The jury is still out on what those impacts will be, he said. But there are two areas in which experts agree that a high-volume tech habit has negative effects: sleep and attention span. Adolescents get less quality sleep and have shorter attention spans when they spend a lot of time on digital devices. Recent studies suggest adults suffer the same consequences.

Some adults will recognize signs of their own dependence and take social media vacations; I've seen people announce such breaks on Facebook and Twitter. I've even tried this myself.

I wrote about a Facebook fast in 2010. After officially announcing my big breakup, our separation lasted less than a week.

Lately, I've been craving a few days in a cabin deep in the woods, cut off from Wi-Fi, cellphone towers and television. We are social creatures built for connection, but we also need a periodic disconnect. We need a pause to honestly evaluate how much time we spend truly disconnected from a device.

Perhaps a better approach to a short-term detox is to integrate regular downtime and make it part of a family's routine. Think beyond just taking a break from technology during meal times. Is it possible to do screen-free Sundays, where a block of time -- anywhere from four to eight hours -- is set aside? It would take some coordination to find hours that work for everyone. That's also key.

Too many family tech-detox plans start as a group effort, only to see the parents break down first, using "work" as an ever-present hall pass. Change has to be modeled from the top down.

My own family will be trying a digital detox soon. Rather than making this a punitive exercise, I want my kids to identify what benefits they each stand to gain: better sleep, more focused attention, more face-to-face activities.

The larger goal is about becoming more mindful of our tech use and media consumption, and building in regular breaks.

I agree with Krieg's observation that something valuable is lost unless we make an active effort to disengage with things and engage with one another.

He talked about the students who visited his property last year who had never in their lives walked on gravel in a creek. Some had never cooked a hot dog over an open fire or made a s'more.

"It's ironic that I owned an electronics recycling business," he said.

Proving that what goes around, comes around.

The two 10-year-old girls must have been freezing outside the grocery store in suburban St. Louis, but it wasn't obvious to passers-by.

It was 34 degrees and windy. They were wearing big, puffy jackets and bright, fuzzy scarves, with Santa hats layered on top of woolen hats.

The girls were nearing the end of a two-hour shift that had started at 8 a.m. on a recent Saturday morning. With their mothers standing behind them and the red Salvation Army bucket front and center, the foursome were ringing bells rather zealously. The girls were singing "Jingle Bells."

At one point, Anna Fairchild said, "It's so cold out here, Mommy."

Her mother, Christine Fairchild, responded gently: "We're out here for two hours. There are people out here all the time."

The girls kept ringing and singing and smiling.

Christine, a 38-year-old oncology nurse, had been out here the night before with her teenager. Volunteering for the shifts through their church has become a family tradition. There are moments when she's reminded why they do it.

This cold morning, a middle-aged woman stopped in front of the bucket with a handful of change. "I don't have a job right now," the woman said. "This is all I can give, but I want to give something."

Christine wants her daughters to witness these moments of generosity.

Laura McDurmont, 42, of Ballwin, Missouri, decided she and her daughter, Emma, would join the Fairchilds on this outing. Earlier in the month, the McDurmonts had visited a special-needs school to help children pick out toys. They also brought donations to a local food pantry and made gifts for another child through church.

"Right now, you're pretty lucky," Laura has told her children. "But you don't know when your luck is going to run out."

Babies and toddlers are self-centered by nature, and our job as parents requires that we meet their needs. But even very young children can begin to understand how their actions impact others. And this awareness becomes even more important as they get older.

The antidote to entitlement is gratitude. Research shows that gratitude helps to develop a child's sense of empathy and increases her own odds for a happier life. But just like imparting any value or life skill, teaching gratitude takes time, repetition and reinforcement.

It also requires some restraint and discipline on our part. Parents don't have to buy every single item on a child's wish list. Sometimes it's just as important to not get what you want.

Reflecting the cultural and economic mood, some parents have told me that their kids' requests to Santa were simpler this year. Many families are paring back. There is a recognition that with too much stuff, things get lost in the shuffle. Sometimes, the more you give, the less it is appreciated.

Although the McDurmonts' financial situation is stable, they also decided to cut back on purchases.

"The things we do buy are more meaningful," Laura said. "We're going to church more and doing more service projects."

They drew names with their extended family, rather than buy gifts for everyone. And she's taken to heart her friend's philosophy on raising grateful children.

Christine's cheery and chilly daughter may be the best testimonial to a parent's effort paying off. Anna said she's glad she got to ring the bell in the freezing temps: "I've been having fun doing it."

"For me, it's not about telling them," said Christine, on teaching her kids about gratitude. "It's about doing things with them."