It has always been one of the most difficult of challenges for parents, grandparents, step- or biological. For any caregiver, really, who takes on the mind-bending, heart-twisting, daunting task of easing children into the future: "Sharing some truths, some beliefs, they can lean on as they move through life."
As I begin to wander through my 78th year on this big blue marble - surrounded by the lunacy, greed, arrogance, and naked aggression that still seems to swirl unabated - I continue to cling to my personal mantra: "Foster harmony, Enable beauty, Distill complexity and Oppose harm." And I suppose folks with more than a few decades in the rearview mirror might buy into that worldview. But trot it out for whatever youngsters on the shallow side of thirty are calling themselves these day - maybe "the whatever generation" - and their eyes will roll back under their eyebrows as they respond "whatever. . ." And probably rightfully so, since except for those delightful exceptions, older than their years, my mantra may seem more parental patter without relevance in their everyday life.
So let's go there for a bit - into the lives of the "whatever generation," and increasingly into mine. Into the world of screens, technology and the internet. The world that was my academic speciality for half a century until its nebulous ambiguity helped drive me into the seemingly saner space of retirement and art. But, I suppose, not surprisingly, this new version of my former ivory tower has become infected with those same digital devices that swaddle the "whatever generation." Life "off the grid" is a fiction - even to those seeking a separatist world back in some rural redoubt. They too need space-based technology, if only to keep track of what the world from which they are hiding is up to.
At the moment my advice to the "whatever generation" is to remember that when it comes to the technology on their screens or in their ears, in their pockets, in their cars, on their wrists, and in their glasses only works when it wants to. It isn't that their devices just decide to stop working, it is that the incredibly complex systems of hardware and software aren't always compatible, especially when one underlying system, say Mac, "updates" their operating system without being really really sure that their various partners, say hospitals or air traffic control systems, will be able to adjust to the new operating system.
Those scenarios, along with the nefarious global hacks so popular in techno-thriller videos, are, of course, the extremes. But what about the very real, everyday glitches that make life in the 2020s more complicated instead of easier. [As I type this a little notice has appeared in the upper right corner of my screen telling me that "macOS Sequoia 15.7.3 is available and will be installed later tonight." Doesn't ask. Tells me. And my techie friends tell me I should always update to the latest OS version or bad things may happen! Anyhow, I digress as usual.]
OK, everyday glitches. I'm a Mac guy. Have been since 1990, when I was writing Taming the Wild Tube: A Family's Guide to Television and Video, in Wordstar, [You may need to slip into the WayBack machine for that one. 1979 - 1992.] and Mac came out with a better word processor. And the university finally allowed computers other than UNIX boxes onto the university system. Anyhow, my everyday glitches are usually the result of one Apple product talking to another, or not. I have four. 2 Powerbook laptops, an iPad and an iPhone - one up and running, a new 17 in a box waiting the attention of our Mac midwife.
Most irritating for me is what some system update or another has done with positioning various apps on the iPad screen. It seems to take some sort of perverse pleasure in sticking various apps off to the side of the screen, so you know they are there, but you cannot get to them. Then, occasionally, they let you grab a corner and pull them to the center of the screen - but not full screen. Sort of a 3/4 bubble, which sometimes you can grab a corner of and make full screen. Of course, other times, and with other apps the device works just as it did in the "olden days."
Second is "Car Play" when the phone talks to the GPS screen in the car and also plays music. Most of the time. Except when it choses not to, and then you have to go through 5 steps to "reconnect" the phone to Car Play. Which is a minor thing, except when you are driving. You know you should either continue to your destination - say the grocery store - without music, or pull over and reconnect to Car Play, but you are tempted to wing it while driving - endangering yourself and others. Still, it does charge the phone.
I could go on, but why bother. You all have your own list of irritating glitches, or suggestions as to how I can correct mine - "You just put two fingers on the upper left-hand corner of the screen and then double click while reciting "Mary Had a Little Lamb . . . " But that is not the point. The point is to tell the "whatever generation" that technology is transitory. The newest and greatest will be "same-old, same-old" tomorrow. And it may not work the way you are used to. It may not work at all. So what?
I'm thinking there must be camps that teach kids how to acquire "old skills." Things like writing a letter on paper, putting it in to an envelop, writing an address and a return address. Putting on a stamp. Putting it in a mailbox. Or like reading a paper map, using it to drive to the next town, or the movie theater, or to the grandparents house. Or using and balancing a paper checkbook. Listening to music on a record player - vinyl is coming back! Using their phone to make a voice call. Talk to a friend. More difficult, but perhaps possible at their school or a local art center - learn how to shoot, develop and print pictures from film.
I know it sounds kind of silly. And for the foreseeable future it seems that technology will continue to meet many of these needs, hopefully with increasing reliability. But there are some truths, some experiences I think are worth passing along. I find myself going back to the third part of my mantra - Distill complexity. There is, I believe, value in getting back to basics. I remember changing the oil in my car. Filling notebook after notebook with these ramblings that now live on various digital devices that may soon become obsolete. Lying on my dorm room floor, my head between the two speakers listening to those two new guys with the weird names; Simon and Garfunkel. Cutting and gluing film for my senior project called Scratches on my Favorite Phonograph Records. Sculpting with my hands covered in streaks of terra cotta or porcelain. Touching real stuff, real people.
No batteries required.
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