Blackout

Woke up this morning sort of out of step with the world.

It got me to thinking... how much of my day is spent (or wasted) with chasing after things, circumstances and dreams instead of actual accomplishments?

I've also been reading about families and schools that are encouraging families to be doing "technology blackouts" in their homes.

Hmm.

Blackout.

Would anyone notice if I skipped my contact with them for a prolonged time period?

Would it be missed by another if I didn't blog?

How about that pesky cell phone of 24-hour linkage? If the line went silent of chatter, would it matter?

Really. Would it matter?

I'm not sure on these things since we aren't living atop Walton's Mountain and we, in our alleged to be better modern society, haven't learned what we can and can't do without. Technology of all stripes has been available to most of us since the day we drew our first breath.

There are some conveniences to having 24-hour access as well as some hefty drawbacks. While we are all thankful for advances in medical technologies that prolong the lives of each person blessed by their presence, there remains the question of just how much information can be shoved into the public eye before we blink or flinch or simply withdraw.

In the movie "Freaky Friday" (the remake, not the oldie), the threat is made to put a teenager into a "phoneless, dateless, Amish existence". In this day and age with the vast forms of media and technology saturation, that is a credible threat. Babies seem to be born with a cell phone in their hands and an email account established before the ink is dry on their first handprints.

But is that a favor or an albatross? Are we helping them or turning them into drones, slaves to technology that is now the master?

I do worry about it because if ANY of the dire predictions of the world's end are true, they all share one common thread, communication in our modern time will cease to exist. The writers of horror know the one dread shared by all... to be silent and unheard.

Helen Keller knew a lot about being unheard in her day. The array of technological opportunity was not even dreamed of during her lifetime. Even the brightest among us couldn't have forseen the changes that could come from small devices that can talk for those who cannot talk on their own.

My own son, Jared, is the proud owner and user of such a piece of wonder. His "Tango!" gives him a voice for a variety of settings. He selects the wording and the "Tango!" speaks for him.

While not yet an exact science for him, it helps.

Imagine what could have changed for Helen Keller if computers had been available to her to record her ideas, thoughts and feelings. While we do have some of her quotes and thoughts given to us through her faithful and dedicated teacher, Ann Sullivan, there is much about Helen Keller that remains a mystery until we meet at the bar of God.

How much of our lives can even be considered mystery now? We tell everyone everything except for our dirtiest of secrets - and those can even be shared for the money on reality TV.

We think the world wants to know the minutia of our lives and treat every message, email and phone call as if we are alone in our need to be heard.

But what if the options disappeared? To borrow a phrase by Garth Brooks: "if tomorrow never comes", how would we adjust to a life that was solitary and which only boasted the most primative communications and shared conversations?

During my youth, I read a story about the development of the telegraph and the station to station operators who transmitted faithful dits and dots of messages from one end of the line to another. Often, these men (and a few women) were isolated in railroad shacks awaiting the next train.

So lonely were these outposts of modernity that the only means of communication THEY possessed was their telegraph line.

It is a form of solitude that most of us would simply be unable to survive.

Two men, separated by miles of rugged country and praries filled with grasses, crops and cattle played chess via the telegraph line. They NEVER met. They NEVER sat face to face and shared a laugh over a cup of coffee. Yet their need to be known made the telegraph wires hum with chess moves sent through miles of cable to the shack down the line.

Just something to think about today.