Not to say that I am old, but I do know that I sit more than my parents did, and also more than I did as a child.
I do not remember a time when my family did not have a TV in our home. We had a larger, but still “portable,” black-and-white TV with the rabbit ears. These ears were sometimes adorned with aluminum foil for better reception. There were four channels to choose from including Public Television. The networks signed off each night with the National Anthem playing while a flag waved, leaving you with static of “bug races” till the following morning. To turn on the TV, change the channel, or turn the TV off, you had to physically approach and turn the knob or the dial.
Is the phone ringing? If so, you got up and walked to it to answer. While talking you stayed near the phone, or walked as far as the cord would allow. The same if you wished to make a call. You had to physically move to the telephone. There mystery as to who might be on the other end of that ringing phone – and there was a proper etiquette as to how you were to answer the call.
My family listened to a lot of music. Music that would come from a radio or phonograph player positioned centrally, so that it could be heard throughout the home. Again. To make the music happen, you had to physically turn on the radio, or choose an album. It may be controversial, but in my family we stacked the albums, four or five at a time. Each A side would play (unless you chose to play the B side), and as it finished, the arm would return to its home, and the next album would drop into place. To hear more music? You turned the stack over and started again.
Nostalgia? Maybe.
These past weeks, we have been in the midst of a major remodel. This has required us to move out of the house, and into the wonderful home of a friend who has provided us with a place of respite during the messy time of demolition. Because she no longer lives here full-time, there is no internet. There is no longer a physical phone hanging on the wall. There is a TV in her kitchen that, with rabbit ears, gets one local station.
As I sit here writing, I cannot be distracted by emails dinging, or the ability to answer a text message from my computer. I am committed to the task at hand. At first, I was twitchy. Not because I was disconnected from email or text, but because I have been working (again) on my Fassbender book. As I write, I am not able to quickly hop online to re-check a statement for accuracy, or “oh heck, let’s look to see if I can find more about this topic.” A big rabbit hole that takes away from the actual writing. Getting the job done.
Which reminds me of a fourth piece of technology. Home internet. It really wasn’t that long ago that to access the internet you had to go to the designated spot for your computer, turn it on, or if it was on, grab a mouse and click to activate that nostalgic dial-up tone. Even when the web progressed beyond dial-up, you still needed a cord connected to the wall to access the online world. My children remember Thanksgiving in 2001. I was making cranberry sauce, and while I was waiting for the mixture to cook – hey, I had about 10 minutes – I went into the next room and dialed into the internet to see if my friend in Germany had sent new information. Cue the Genealogy Happy Dance, and the burning (almost) of the cranberry sauce.
Do I wish to return to the world before remote control, wireless internet, on-demand television shows, cordless phones – WITH the futuristic ability to see the person you are talking to? Maybe not. What I do miss is that each of these tasks was a deliberate action. You made a conscious effort to watch a particular television show. You answered the phone because someone you knew wanted/needed to reach you. You played music that you purchased in physical form. No doom scrolling or mindlessly watching ten hours of TV.
With all this being said. We will return to our home today. Into the remaining construction dirt with no furniture, and DANG! I packed the lamps…no light, but we will have internet…
