Driving four 15 year olds today, my turn to be quiet and observe. Cell phone in hand, they alternately converse with each other, play games, take calls and text friends. Where they end and the phones begin is hard to discern. They have apps to fool your caller ID, they know how to beat the newest games, they have ringers that make each other laugh. (One ringer was the old phone company recording “I’m sorry but your call cannot be connected…”) They don’t just own droids, they are droids.
You can laugh at them if you want, ridicule them if it will make you feel better, but it doesn’t matter. We are the dinosaurs, not them. Technology is moving on without our permission and there are no barriers to communications for my son and his friends. They are not isolated by technology, they are united by it. All of their friends are only a thumb stroke away, E Mail much too slow for these guys. They check in, post pictures and change their status as they seamlessly move through the day, they are constantly on what we dinosaurs used to call a “party line”.
While I usually feel more connected to humanity by Facebook and Youtube and am comforted that I can find out anything I need to know from IMDB, Huffington Post and Google, I wonder if the boys will ever have to worry about Facebook stalkers, intercepted private documents and inconvenient relationship status changes. Yes, sometimes I get tech’ed out. There are times that people are too much for me, times when even someone’s typing is more than I can bare. I don’t know if the boys will ever know the joy of being incommunicado, of blocking everyone.
I’m unplugging for the weekend. No cell, no computer, not even a Kindle. My son would suggest this is the equivalent of going to Amish Fantasy Camp; I consider it a much needed sanity break. My sanity appears to be broke and I don’t think the internet can fix it.
I need saltwater, a dolphin tending to her baby, a manatee’s curious gaze. I need sunrise from the ocean, I even need mosquito bites at dusk. I need to play arpeggios to the moon, I need to not know the news.
I need no plan.
See you Monday.