Unplugged

By G. E. Shuman

     I've been thinking lately, and more and more often as the days pass, about what it would mean for a person to be “unplugged.” The idea of being unplugged, to me, is not one of being taken off the power grid, and to rely on wind mills, solar cells, or water wheels to provide my electricity, as some in our area have done. Those people take great pride in the fact that they are 'off the grid'. To me, that's their business, but not a big deal. They still have power, and may still hunker down around their various screens every single day. No, to me, to be unplugged would mean to be disconnected from those screens, and intentionally cut off from all the interconnected, interfering, meddling, identity-permeating 'stuff' that being on the grid has graciously provided for us. It would mean accomplishing the much braver act of pulling the plug on things like email, television, and, as impossible as this might seem, cutting the cord from the increasingly omni-present 'god' of the electronic world, the internet. It would certainly mean the elimination of the newly-discovered face of that 'god', face book, itself.

     For some, but not all of us older adults, the idea of getting off the information grid would actually be a relief from some of life's complication, at a time when we feel the great need to un-complicate. For some of our kids and grand kids that idea would be simply absurd. To them, there is little more important in life than maintaining contact with their 'twelve hundred friends', online. That, to some of us, is what is absurd. (By the way, no one has twelve hundred friends.) I have been chuckled at, and seen the grimacing faces of some of my own children, at any mention I might make of not being 'into' social networking. Kids, just so ya know... being treated as some bony old object in a Jurassic-period museum display is uncomfortable, especially when the ones you are teasing still see you as the little, drooling, diaper-dirtiers you were about five minutes ago. Also, don't blame us older folks when you look up from your screen someday and realize that you just spent your allotted eighty years without ever looking out a window.

     An elderly uncle of ours recently died. We didn't even know about this, until days after the funeral, because, well, it was announced on face book, and we didn't see it. Because of this I have, seriously, asked my own kids to not note my passing in that way. If you hear that I have recently assumed room temperature, just call around, like people used to do. I think that missing a family picnic because you missed seeing a face book post is not a big deal. Missing the funeral of a loved one because you're not online all the time is tragic. It really makes me wonder what our society is becoming. Admittedly, I'm sure there was a time, not so long ago, when making a phone call to deliver bad news was also considered less than proper by some. After all, with a phone call, you're not present to see the person's face, to give them a hug, to comfort them. I guess this is all relative, to our older and younger relatives.

     I am not unplugged, and am not sure it would even be possible for me to be so. But, as you have just read, I have given the idea some thought. In some ways, that thought is a very appealing one to me. It would mean that the people, my real friends, who wanted to talk with me would have to come and visit me. That would be nice... an actual three-dimensional visit with a real person, with a voice, and intonation in that voice, and expressions, and hugs, and handshakes, instead of abbreviated words in texted messages. (LOL). It would also mean that the friends and relatives who never call me would still not do so, so... not much would really change there. It would mean that news would travel slower, but since most news is bad news, I could live with slower. I would not have TV, or even be able to send this column, electronically, to the paper. I would just have to be happy with reading the classics, writing more books myself, and visiting my favorite newspaper office in person. I wonder how terrible all of that would be.

     Someday, when I am gone, I hope that people remember me for who I was to them, not for what my screen name reminded them of. If I suddenly disappear from the electronic world, it will be more evident to some people than to others. You will know, if you know me well, exactly what happened. If not, you may have to wonder if I am truly gone, or if I have simply become unplu----.

Wrist-Watches and Cracker Jack

by G. E. Shuman

A few weeks ago I was standing in our kitchen, and happened to notice something about my sixteen year old daughter, when I saw her sitting on the couch in the next room. “You don't wear a wrist-watch, huh Em?” I remarked.

“I don't wear a what?” Emily asked back.

“A wrist-watch.” I repeated.

“Dad, they don't call them wrist-watches anymore. It's just a watch, and, no, I don't wear one.”

“Why not? Don't you have one?” I asked, in honest ignorance of her point.

“I don't NEED one. Everyone always has their phone in their hand, and the time is right here.” Emily responded, holding up the electronic appendage which seems to be permanently attached to her palm.

“Oh. Yeah.” Was my only reply, as I was, once again, technologically trounced back into the old realization that mine is not exactly the cutting-edge generation anymore. I looked at my left wrist, and at my watch... my WRIST-watch, wondering if I will see the day when 'old' people like myself are actually laughed at for wearing one of these things. I suddenly felt like I was carrying around a spittoon and a buggy whip instead of a watch. Maybe, just maybe, that day is here.

It may have been that very same day, or perhaps a day or so later, that I noticed (I guess I'm noticing things lately.) something familiar and somehow exciting from my own childhood. My wife has recently taken to buying boxes of Cracker Jack, to take to work with her, as a snack. And, that day, right in front of me on a small round table in our kitchen, lay an actual Cracker Jack prize! Do you remember those? For generations Cracker Jack has proudly, (and rightly so) announced 'A prize in every box!” ON every box of their product. I remember vividly, as a child, ripping the entire top off my Cracker Jack boxes and squeezing the sides to see if I could see that cherished, tea-bag sized white envelope that I knew was buried somewhere among the caramel corn and peanuts. If I saw the prize I would immediately dump out enough of the Cracker Jack to get my fingers far enough into the box to snag the prize and drag it out. (Tell me you have never done that.) Now, everyone knows, and knew then, that whatever prize was inside the envelope had no great value. There was always a blue-ink printed joke to read on the outside, and something less than magical on the inside. To me, as a child, making fun of whatever the little plastic something was that was inside that envelope was half of the fun. Do you remember people saying things like: “Where'd ya get the ring... a box of Cracker Jack?”

I thought of all of this, as I picked up and looked over that genuine Cracker Jack prize envelope. The fact that it was still unopened proved to be too much for me to resist. For the first time in years, I opened a Cracker Jack prize, and, for the first time ever, was quite disappointed. In an effort to please the kids of today, even this has changed. Rather than some chintzy ring or other cheap plastic thing, inside the envelope there was only a note. The note said this: “Now you can download fun, authentic Cracker Jack prizes to your smart phone at:” with a website address following. In other words, at least to me, the prize was... well... nothing. It felt the same as when someone gives you a lottery ticket for your birthday. What did they really give you? Nothing. Frankly, I don't have a smart phone, and would rather have had a dumb toy than a stupid app.

I recently read an article in which the author lamented that: “Modern technology is taking away all of our stuff.” That we no longer need cds to play our music, or dvds to play our movies, were his main points. Some people now take virtual vacations, (Gee, those must be fun.) and others completely lose themselves in games which require no cards, game boards, game pieces, or even other players. I think today's kids are actually missing out on a few REAL things, as they willingly view virtual ones, displayed on small glass screens, in place of them. One of those real things is the proud feeling of a shiny new watch wrapped around your wrist; another is the joy of holding, instead of an iphone, a cheap and cherished Cracker Jack toy, right in the palm of your hand.