It seems to me that we have gone from the warmth of the 20th century to the cold of the 21st.
I’m not talking about wars or politics, but books and telephones and newspapers and board games as opposed to texting and emailing and electronic games and the anonymity of the computer itself.
People today speak quickly as if they want to get over it fast; they text in acronyms, shortened words or letters like OTC, RA, LOL. It’s as if we haven’t the time to converse, to interact, to care about each other.
Commercials on television (which I actually despise) usually have nothing to do with the product itself and, are presented so fast, that before you “get” them they’re on to another.
People no longer want to talk to each other when they can either send pictures or text.
Here’s an idea for an interesting sci-fi story. We text and text until we stop using our voices entirely and, when we try to again, they’re gone!
The same goes for what we now call “snail mail.” People used to write beautiful letters, describing unforgettable sights and journeys, employing words that could almost be poetry. Now, we email and text using as few words as possible. We send Snap Chat pictures that last only a few minutes for instant gratification and not something to remember.
We’re still reading but have lost the sensuality of turning pages, the tactilely gratifying sensation of feeling them move between our fingers; the smell of a new book; the crisp sound of never before opened covers. We now read Kindles or Nooks, cold, flat electronic tools. Same story, different experience. Our eyes see the words but the rest of our senses miss the glorious moments spent holding each separate book in our hands. How does one cuddle up with a Kindle?
I am a 20th century woman. I like real newspapers, talking on telephones, listening to Johnny Mathis. I like movies that tell a story and have live actors, not computer-generated cartoons for adults. I like the marriage of pencil and paper as opposed to blank screen and plastic letters. Warm and intimate, not cold and indifferent.
Do you remember when you called your doctor’s office and spoke to a human being who knew exactly who you were without looking you up in their medical computers; the great feeling you got when your grocer remembered what kind of cheese you liked; when your mail carrier knew you by name and not your box number?
Perhaps you’re thinking I’m a dinosaur. Well, maybe I am, but you know what…dinosaurs are considered relics and relics are precious connections to the past. Ergo, I’m very proud to be a dinosaur.
Contact Adrienne at firstname.lastname@example.org