ilbegone
01-06-2010, 04:42 PM
Techno gap? There's an app for that
By Doug McIntyre
01/05/2010
At Christmas, I listened to the kids prattle on about the various "apps" available on their iPhones. They spoke with great enthusiasm, actually with an intensity that bordered on zealotry.
Sitting in my recliner with a rotary dial telephone inches from my hand, I became the focus of a messianic harangue from the techno-deists I live with with. It was all my fault, because I knew I was poking the bear when I asked, "What's an app?" Yes, I am the e-heretic of the house. The Luddite of L.A.
For the next 35 minutes, the kids were engaged with their old man. Back and forth went the conversation - the kind of quality time between a father and his sons usually reserved for fishing trips and estate planning. The kids, 20-somethings by the way, were appalled by my technological ignorance, and worse, offended by my belligerent rejection of Bill Gates and the world he's imposed upon us. "Your poor ol' Papa is analog," I said, hoping to end the double-barrel sermon.
But the digital intervention continued with demonstration after demonstration of the many marvels now available right through your palm-sized phone - maps and movie trailers, restaurant reviews and square roots, tweets and texts, and somewhere in there you can even make a phone call, except, as I discovered, actually speaking on the phone has become somewhat passe.
"There's more to life than gawking at those little screens," I said, deliberately waving my copy of the Daily News. Of course, the kids have no more use for a printed newspaper than they do a senior citizen bus pass. And that's when it dawned on me my world is rapidly sinking into the quicksand of history. My childhood toys were made of wood. Wood, for God's sake! Abe Lincoln's toys were made of wood. My kids have never owned anything that didn't come with a charger, including some of their clothes.
My world of newspapers and wooden baseball bats and blocks, books and Johnny Mercer lyrics relegates me to the Hall of Antiquities.
It's not that the e-Generation is particularly uninterested in the world that preceded theirs - let's face it, my crowd didn't exactly stay up nights worrying about the Dust Bowl. Rather, the digital revolution has fundamentally changed how the generations experience life.
With a new Wii system, the whole family can still laugh and high-five while cyber-bowling right there in the living room. But lost forever is Mom kissing a thumb blister boo-boo all better from a too-heavy bowling ball or Dad lacing up a pair of clownish rented shoes. The digital world offers sanitized bowling, deleted are the sights, smells (yes, smells) and sounds of an actual bowling alley.
No Facebook status update will ever replace coffee with a friend. A tweet is a poor substitute for a shared experience. No digital download will ever replace the sensory stimulation of an hour's walk on the beach.
Obviously, our technology is useful or it would be tucked in the junk drawer with your old Jane Fonda workout tapes and Pet Rocks. I actually own two computers and have Googled.
It's the religiouslike devotion to technology I regret. Like all false gods, it's bound to disappoint.
I deliberately wrote today's column longhand, with a ballpoint pen, not a quill, just to see if I could still do it. I'm happy to report it's like riding a bike.
Do kids still ride bikes?
By Doug McIntyre
01/05/2010
At Christmas, I listened to the kids prattle on about the various "apps" available on their iPhones. They spoke with great enthusiasm, actually with an intensity that bordered on zealotry.
Sitting in my recliner with a rotary dial telephone inches from my hand, I became the focus of a messianic harangue from the techno-deists I live with with. It was all my fault, because I knew I was poking the bear when I asked, "What's an app?" Yes, I am the e-heretic of the house. The Luddite of L.A.
For the next 35 minutes, the kids were engaged with their old man. Back and forth went the conversation - the kind of quality time between a father and his sons usually reserved for fishing trips and estate planning. The kids, 20-somethings by the way, were appalled by my technological ignorance, and worse, offended by my belligerent rejection of Bill Gates and the world he's imposed upon us. "Your poor ol' Papa is analog," I said, hoping to end the double-barrel sermon.
But the digital intervention continued with demonstration after demonstration of the many marvels now available right through your palm-sized phone - maps and movie trailers, restaurant reviews and square roots, tweets and texts, and somewhere in there you can even make a phone call, except, as I discovered, actually speaking on the phone has become somewhat passe.
"There's more to life than gawking at those little screens," I said, deliberately waving my copy of the Daily News. Of course, the kids have no more use for a printed newspaper than they do a senior citizen bus pass. And that's when it dawned on me my world is rapidly sinking into the quicksand of history. My childhood toys were made of wood. Wood, for God's sake! Abe Lincoln's toys were made of wood. My kids have never owned anything that didn't come with a charger, including some of their clothes.
My world of newspapers and wooden baseball bats and blocks, books and Johnny Mercer lyrics relegates me to the Hall of Antiquities.
It's not that the e-Generation is particularly uninterested in the world that preceded theirs - let's face it, my crowd didn't exactly stay up nights worrying about the Dust Bowl. Rather, the digital revolution has fundamentally changed how the generations experience life.
With a new Wii system, the whole family can still laugh and high-five while cyber-bowling right there in the living room. But lost forever is Mom kissing a thumb blister boo-boo all better from a too-heavy bowling ball or Dad lacing up a pair of clownish rented shoes. The digital world offers sanitized bowling, deleted are the sights, smells (yes, smells) and sounds of an actual bowling alley.
No Facebook status update will ever replace coffee with a friend. A tweet is a poor substitute for a shared experience. No digital download will ever replace the sensory stimulation of an hour's walk on the beach.
Obviously, our technology is useful or it would be tucked in the junk drawer with your old Jane Fonda workout tapes and Pet Rocks. I actually own two computers and have Googled.
It's the religiouslike devotion to technology I regret. Like all false gods, it's bound to disappoint.
I deliberately wrote today's column longhand, with a ballpoint pen, not a quill, just to see if I could still do it. I'm happy to report it's like riding a bike.
Do kids still ride bikes?