It seems to me that we live in a world of gadgets and gizmos. Everything seems to be about technology, applications, smart phones, smart watches, face-times, and video evidence of literally everything we see around us. We have street cameras that detect our speeds—and trust me, I know all about this because I have speeding tickets that come in the mail and fines that need to be paid now.
We have moved far away from the days of beepers or pagers, and pay phones on the corners or at the stores down the block.
Hell, I had a rotary phone in my house . . .
And with all due respect, even the porn industry has made changes to which I swear when I tell you; we had to work for porn when I was a kid.
But not anymore.
We have access to anything and everything, right in the palm of our hands. I don’t know what this has done for the research industry. I remember having to use encyclopedias when I was a kid.
No need for that now.
There is a search engine for anything, just waiting to be requested, waiting to inform (or misinform) the masses.
I remember the technology when I was a kid, which wasn’t much. We had video games. We had arcades too, which is mainly a thing of the past.
I remember when my parents brought home home a microwave.
I also remember being told to get out of the house, and to not sit so close to the television. I remember when The Old Man would tell me how television and video games are going to turn my brains into mush.
I remember the music from my generation and the generations before mine. I remember when vinyl record albums and 8-tracks went to cassette tapes and then cassette tapes became CD’s and yes, I remember when we used to rent movies on VHS tapes.
I remember the labels on the VHS tapes which read, “please be kind, rewind.”
You don’t have to rewind anything now.
I remember when VHS tapes became DVDs and now all of this technology is antiquated and obsolete.
I remember the technology that came easily to me. I remember watching my Father, The Old Man, become confused and unsure of how to use things like our new VCR.
He’d ask, “what does this button do,” and twist his face a little.
I never thought that I would be this way too. I never thought that I would look at today’s technology and make the same facial expressions when some young kid explains the technology of my new systems at work.
I look around and see empty playgrounds.
I see this and wonder where the kids play now. I think about how I was always outside.
I was never home when I was a kid.
I was always doing something or going somewhere.
I walked all over the place in my hometown. I might not have known every street by name, but I knew my neighborhood, same as my neighborhood knew me.
I remember the playgrounds and the places where kids would gather. I remember the empty parking lots and alleys and the different places in my neighborhood.
I remember where I would go and hang out for hours, and yes, there was trouble.
I was not innocent. I was not a Boy Scout, by any means, but as different as I was, there are still troublemakers around. That much has not changed.
I know that.
I remember when there was a hurricane that passed through my town. I remember how we lost power in the house for two days. I was still in grade school, I think.
I also remember being with my family and how odd and awkward it was. There was nothing to do – no power, no television.
I remember ordering pizza the last night of the blackout. I remember eating at the dining room table and playing a board game called Trivial Pursuit.
I remember being too young to know any of the answers. But at the same time, I remember having fun. I remember laughing and playing and then, out of nowhere, the lights came back on.
Mom and The Old Man and my brother Dave and I all leapt with excitement. I remember the smoke lifting from the candles as Mom blew them out.
I remember how everyone got up from the table, except for me because I remember wishing the lights could have stayed off for a little while longer — at least until we finished the game.
I never thought I would identify as I do now, or that I would be this lost soul.
I never assumed that I would be a hopeful or hopeless romantic, nor did I think that I would desire the quietness of say, no power, no thought controlling devices, or technology.
I often see playgrounds and I shake my head.
I have this youthful idea, which is more like a romantic request.
This is for whomever it is that I to grow old with, — that is, if there is such a person, of course.
Nevertheless, I have an idea for us.
I want to go to an empty playground and maybe go down the slide, if there is one, or swing on the swings and hang from the monkey bars.
I wouldn’t mind playing a board game. And I definitely wouldn’t mind sitting in the dark with some candlelight.
I want to do this with the world’s most beautiful and delicate face looking back at me, eyes like glittery gems and twinkling in dimness, like fairytales from my youth, which help me to believe in words like “happily ever after.”
I want to be someone who has someone to grow old with.
I want to be someone who knows how to stay young because the love of my life puts a fire in my heart — and when I see her, I will never grow old and I’ll never go a day without hearing the words, “I love you.”
I know you’re out there. And I know you can hear me.
(At least I hope so.)
I know there’s been some changes, but despite them all, I know that I want to grow old with you.
No texts. No smart phones. No modern technology.
Just a few candles and maybe some music — to dance to
of course.
The Written Addiction 