Nancy and I shared a sound rant, focused upon naïveté and its grasp on technology, far beyond texting with one hand and turning up the Ipod volume with the other while driving ten over through a school zone at 3:00. Crossing guard? It’s worse.
An evil hand knows. And manipulates technology as a means to a desired end. A charitable hand does likewise.
But far too many today seemingly cannot see the overhead view. Call it engaging technology in the hands of naïveté. Norman L. II comes home, enters his room and plays RPG’s for hours, loudly tunes out and surfs the web. He does remember to brush his teeth. Norma L. too arrives on the scene, quickly logging on to Facebook, IM, and Hotmail. Unfortunately her room’s next Norman’s and she has to plunge her earbuds deeply just to drown out the racket rattling through the walls. She knows there’s more to do, but she’s busy. Norma does remember to take off her makeup and set the alarm. Norman L. Sr. arrives sometime later than his offspring, bearing one of the burdens of technology: more to do because so much is expedited at work because it’s all wired super fast to the information highway. He has a net conference to prepare for, reports to send off, and 72 emails demanding attention. He knows the kids are somewhere. Home at least, they’re safe. The pattern repeats with occasional variation. But it’s M.O. It’s routine. It’s N O R M A L.
Most American families are so disconnected physically that they don’t even sit down to dinner together during the week. Public service announcements call upon families to do so at least once in a seven-day period. Once? Why? We’re busy. Stuff’s happening. I have 231 Facebook friends to attend. Ttfn.
It’s not that way at all in the Hudson home. Dinners together. No in-room TV’s or computers. What’s she doing—trying to create “disconnected” children? How will they relate in middle school?
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Nancy and I shared a sound rant, focused upon naïveté and its grasp on technology, far beyond texting with one hand and turning up the Ipod volume with the other while driving ten over through a school zone at 3:00. Crossing guard? It’s worse.
An evil hand knows. And manipulates technology as a means to a desired end. A charitable hand does likewise.
But far too many today seemingly cannot see the overhead view. Call it engaging technology in the hands of naïveté. Norman L. II comes home, enters his room and plays RPG’s for hours, loudly tunes out and surfs the web. He does remember to brush his teeth. Norma L. too arrives on the scene, quickly logging on to Facebook, IM, and Hotmail. Unfortunately her room’s next Norman’s and she has to plunge her earbuds deeply just to drown out the racket rattling through the walls. She knows there’s more to do, but she’s busy. Norma does remember to take off her makeup and set the alarm. Norman L. Sr. arrives sometime later than his offspring, bearing one of the burdens of technology: more to do because so much is expedited at work because it’s all wired super fast to the information highway. He has a net conference to prepare for, reports to send off, and 72 emails demanding attention. He knows the kids are somewhere. Home at least, they’re safe. The pattern repeats with occasional variation. But it’s M.O. It’s routine. It’s N O R M A L.
Most American families are so disconnected physically that they don’t even sit down to dinner together during the week. Public service announcements call upon families to do so at least once in a seven-day period. Once? Why? We’re busy. Stuff’s happening. I have 231 Facebook friends to attend. Ttfn.
It’s not that way at all in the Hudson home. Dinners together. No in-room TV’s or computers. What’s she doing—trying to create “disconnected” children? How will they relate in middle school?
Too many don’t get it.
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