Such a Thing as Too Much Technology

Though I’ve never been in a Tesla, I understand a dashboard controls everything. This includes opening the glovebox or adjusting anything in the car. Controls work through voice commands or with a touchscreen. I must admit, I’m intrigued looking at the sleek handles seamlessly melding with the door. Even opening the car seems high tech and unfamiliar to me. Yet, it also feels like a sign of things that will become familiar, maybe at a faster pace than we would like.

During a cold snap this past winter, I read horror stories about electric vehicle owners. Challenges ranged from super slow charge times to more complicated problems like the controls not working in the sub-zero temperatures. In other words, people couldn’t open the sleek, technology-controlled door handles.

Driving the other day, I contemplated the simple action of reaching over to open my glove box for my emergency sunglasses. It’s tactile and easy to perform. I can reach over without looking, open it, and grab the sunglasses. What if everything in my car was controlled by technology and couldn’t be accessed unless I issued a command? Or touched a screen? Would this be an improvement? In some cases, maybe.

I do enjoy being able to do certain things in the car with voice commands such as calling someone, dictating a message, or changing what I’m listening to. However, these are all new things that became available with advances to phones. It feels natural to me that new things would work differently. But opening the car and the glovebox with a voice command or touch screen instead of a handle? That seems unnecessary. I would also feel a little concerned if anything happened to the computer in the car. Then nothing would work, all at the same time. I might get trapped inside, or locked out.

Sometimes I find the screen in my car annoying. The touch doesn’t always work the first time requiring me to press again. The screen changes based on what I’m looking at and there are a lot of options. Older cars didn’t have this many gizmos. I find it ironic that we talk about “hands-free” driving as less distracting, when really, most of the newer features are distracting by definition. Who says it’s a good idea to listen to messages, call people, and use voice commands for different actions…while you’re driving.

Response Time

I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation with someone that wasn’t broken up by checking phones. It seems when our memories fail, we have to know the answer instantly. Thinking about it, I’m not sure I can even recall how I used to manage. Having access to information instantly in my pocket 24/7 changes everything, maybe in more ways than we’re willing to realize.

My first experiences with the internet was with a dial-up modem. We made sure the phone line was clear before dialing. Then waited expectantly for the grainy-sounding digits to echo, connecting us… to what exactly I can’t remember. I just know it was new and exciting. But also very, very, slow. Downloading an image took ages, maybe even something you would start before bedtime to have a surprise waiting in the morning.

As downloading and connection times increased, so did our expectations. Patience, on the other hand, moved in the opposite direction. Now I find myself impatient to wait a few minutes for a friend running late. Or feeling frustrated if it takes more than .000006 seconds for my search results to appear.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupréy was, and still is, a favorite book to read. During his travels around the universe, the little prince meets someone who created a pill for people to take instead of drinking. Questioning the reason for this, the inventor explains we would save 45 minutes a day by not drinking. The little prince answers that he would spend his “extra” 45 minutes walking to a fresh water spring for a drink.

Though written about 80 years ago, this feels even more profound now. What do we do with all this extra time we’ve saved by getting answers instantly instead of, perhaps, going to the library? Or asking around? Or reading something ourselves instead of a summary? Naturally we’ve found even more ways to fill that time. A new app, scrolling through feeds, answering messages and posting them. Instead of feeling like we’re saving time with these advances, it seems as though it’s being lost at increasing speeds. And along with it, our patience for taking a leisurely stroll to get a refreshing drink of fresh spring water.

Mix Tapes

One of the best presents I ever received was a mix CD. My best friend, at the time, compiled a song list. The songs alternated between featuring my name and his. He used pictures of us for the cover art. I haven’t had a CD player in years, but I know I will always keep this one. I’m also not able to burn it to my laptop. So unless I manually recreate the song list, this is the only copy of it.

Growing up, mix tapes were a big deal. Each one lovingly, and painstakingly created, for someone special. Or maybe just to have your favorite tunes mixed in one spot to play on a clunky, heavy walkman. There was something precious about a mix tape. Though I have to confess, once tape players became obsolete, I tossed my old tapes, most of which wouldn’t play anymore, the tape worn thin from overuse. I switched to CDs. At first, we also used to make mix CDs. However, as the formats have changed, I’ve adapted, but still retain my fond memories of the mix tape days. Now we just make digital playlists, which can be replicated and shared with anyone and everyone.

My orchestra is playing a pops concert this month. We’re collaborating with a rock band. I honestly hadn’t realized my life was lacking until the orchestra played “Thriller” at the last rehearsal. It brought back that perfect, sweet mix of emotion, nostalgia, and a lot of joy. The second bassoon player, a bit younger than me, hadn’t experienced the impact of “Thriller” when it first came out. I still remember shouting in the lunchroom at school to play “Thriller” on the record player. It was probably one of the first music videos I ever watched on MTV, also new at the time.

I explained all of this to the second player, my voice rising with emphasis and childhood emotion. He nodded agreeing it must have been something big. Then shrugged and said most people just get stuff like that from YouTube. What struck me about this was the way that everything is so instant these days. We used to have to wait for that one special music video to play on MTV. Now we can stream it anytime, anywhere we have a connection. And watch it as many times as we want.

The 550th Posting

After last year’s three-month break, I jumped back into an exciting time. It was hard to stop myself from blogging with so many things happening. But I needed the time off to regenerate.

First and foremost, the pandemic lessened. I resumed some of my activities. However, the new pace reminded me of an old trick “Making Things Modular.” This strategy maximizes time by minimizing effort.

Artificial Intelligence (AI) made incredible leaps towards the end of 2022. The rapid pace of change continues, disrupting and changing everything. In particular, generative AI (e.g., ChatGPT), has made it easy for AI to, well, generate new stories, art, images, etc. based on what it learns from existing sources, and more. Lots more.

This led to some interesting questions, such as “Is AI-generated Art, Still Art?” Are we now living in “The Era of Beethoven’s 10th?” As a fan of Beethoven’s 9th, I certainly hope not! There’s something sacred about people creating art. Hopefully gen AI will not be “The End of Originality.” And “The Ethics of Big Data” remain part of the story.

Although, new AI advancements demonstrate many noteworthy benefits, especially in the medical profession. Who wouldn’t want to get test results sooner? AI can work 24/7, doesn’t get fatigued, and has proven to be highly accurate in some scenarios.

The heavy emphasis on technology in the past year left me with a hankering for “The Glory of the Analog Days.” In one post, I reminisced about “The Independent Act of Playing Records” as a young child. I was completely in control of what I listened to, when I wanted to. In another post, I speculated on the non-age related reasons my memory doesn’t work as well as it once did in “Things We Used to Remember.” Now the technology is so prominent that parents register for email accounts in utero!

On a personal note, a new player entered my ongoing internal debate of paper vs ebooks. Somebody in my new book club introduced me to Audiobooks.

And finally, last year we celebrated my father’s 20th deathday. A sad milestone, but I had some help getting through it by “Discovering Joni.” Right around that time, Joni Mitchell resurfaced with a live show. She was one my father’s favorite musicians. A few months later, the start of the school year provided me with another powerful memory of my father “Grading Homework.

Age Appropriate Cell Phones

Now that nobody has landlines anymore, I often wonder how kids communicate. Or stay in touch with relatives or family members if they don’t have their own cell phone. When I was growing up, my sibling and I came home by ourselves when we were in elementary school. We had a landline available to call out, for emergencies, but also for incoming calls to check up on us. Then again, we didn’t have any other form of communication available either. It was the phone or nothing. I think we had some battery-operated walkie talkies, but the range was pretty limited on those.

Now, if kids are maybe too young to have their own cell phone, they have other methods of communication available. Computers and tablets all offer ways to get in touch electronically. That may work for parents getting in touch with kids, but that may not always translate for kids to communicate with other kids.

Growing up, the phone was a pretty simple device to operate. Not to sound ancient, but my first phone had rotary dial. Even so, I recall being able to answer the phone and make calls from a young age. This was an important life skill. It connected me to loved ones, but also provided a way for me to have some independence. I learned conversation etiquette and how to handle myself with adults calling for my parents. The phone was a central part of our lives. It was a landline and a lifeline of sorts.

For all of my childhood, the phone, though common, held a place of importance in the household. Every advance of it somehow making things a little bit easier. First we had longer phone cords making it possible to move around while talking. Then came answering machines, so you didn’t have to wait around at home for that important call to come in. You could even call some of the newer machines to access messages remotely. Then there were push button phones followed by cordless ones. Each advance making things more comfortable for the individual but separating us more from each other. Now, we hold everything in our hands, portable, individual, customized, and solitary, to a certain extent. And where does that leave people too young for cell phones, or others not able to use them?

Things We Used to Remember

Ever since I started using my smartphone, I’ve noticed a decline in my memory. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m constantly inundated with information. Or maybe because my phone distracts me, so I don’t focus as carefully as before. Or it might be because my brain decided it doesn’t have to waste precious energy remembering stuff that’s always, and instantly, a few swipes away.

After writing my blog about Grandmother wisdom a few weeks ago, it reminded me of the analog days. The times when we memorized phone numbers. I used to remember all kinds of things such as addresses, recipes, birthdays, and other important events. My brain was teeming with useless trivial facts and odd bits of information. I even knew how to get places without GPS and narrated directions. The first time I drove to the airport in Toronto, I had to navigate using road signs, plus a few key pointers committed to memory. Now I routinely plug the destination into my navigation system, even though I’ve been there enough times to know the way. But with narrated directions, I can rely on something else to help me navigate.

I memorized recipes I made regularly. Now, I can barely remember which link I used the last time, especially if I didn’t favorite it. However, with so many options available, I also have the opportunity to discover new things and techniques. This is a definite advantage, but sometimes slows me down reviewing multiple choices. Or trying to remember which recipe I used the last time. Other times I rely on my patchy memory of a recipe and cobble something together, hoping for a good outcome.

In an effort to keep my memory muscle strong, I now try to challenge myself to get places without GPS. Or type in phone numbers instead of relying on contact information to autofill what I need. I can’t really explain the link between my smartphone and memory decline, but I know it’s happening. It would be easy to blame it on the aging process, but something else is going on. And who are we without our memories, even if they only amount to a few phone numbers, some amazing recipes, and the assurance of knowing how to get from A to B without narrated directions.