Brad Marley

I love my Dad. I do.

But I think he’s afraid of technology.

This past weekend my Dad and I went on an epic golf trip (81 holes in 52 hours) in mid-Michigan with 14 other guys, but we almost screwed up the format right from the start, thanks to my Dad’s refusal to embrace technology.

Two days before we left, we had a brief conversation on the phone:

“I’ll pick you up around 9 and I’ll plug directions to Pilgrim’s Run into my phone,” I said.

“No – I’ll print out the directions. It will be easier that way,” he answered.

“Fine. I’ll see you on Friday.”

On Friday morning I arrived, as promised, and we proceeded to figure out the puzzle that was fitting two sets of golf clubs and suitcases into my tiny Pontiac G6. As we backed out of the driveway, I tried again (unsuccessfully) to handle the directions.

“We just hop on 96 and take it to 131, right?” I asked.

“No, I have a different way to go,” my Dad replied, and pulled out hard copies of the directions.

Sighing, I gave up and let him guide us.

When we were five minutes from the golf course, he told me to keep an eye open for Chippewa Rd.

After we passed the green sign telling us Chippewa Road was the next light, I saw another sign for Buck’s Run golf club, which was the course where we would end our trip.

“I didn’t know we were so close to Buck’s Run,” I said as we passed the sign.

“Neither did I,” my Dad answered.

It took me three seconds to figure out what happened.

“You directed us to the wrong golf course, didn’t you?”

My Dad look down at the paper directions in his hand, then flipped over the top page to see the name of the golf course.

“Shit.”

***
Like a lot of parental units, mine, for the most part, steadfastly refuse technology.

Save for a Bluetooth headset that my Dad wears 24/7 (kidding. sort of.) and the bare bones cell phone they use to — GASP! — make phone calls with, they don’t own any of the consumer gadgets that are ubiquitous in the modern world.

I will never see my Mom curl up on the couch with a Kindle.

They won’t text message back-and-forth with me to learn which new words my one-year-old daughter is saying.

And, as we’ve seen, I will collect Social Security before I ever see them use a smartphone to get directions to a golf course.

While I respect the fact that they haven’t succumbed to the timesuck that is Facebook, there is room for some technology. After all, technology is what we use to make our lives easier.

***

Thankfully we made it to the correct golf course in plenty of time, so now we can laugh about that time we almost ruined a golf outing.

On the way home on Sunday night, I tried one last time to get my Dad to embrace a little technology.

“Next year if we go on this golf trip again, I’ll be the one who gets the directions.”

“No you won’t,” he said. “I’ll print them, but I’ll make sure we go to the right course.”

I sighed again.

Complain all I want about his stubbornness when it comes to technology, but he’s still my Dad, and I’m still his son.

I’ll defer to him for directions next time.

Image courtesy of Chokola.

The Amazon Kindle scares me.

Wait. Let me start over.

I love the Amazon Kindle and I desperately want one. I love the idea of being able to access any book in my collection at the click of a button without having to walk all the way down the basement stairs to peruse my bookshelf. I love the idea of not getting up off the couch when it comes to finding reading material.

However, it represents, at least to me, one of those technological advancements that separates generations.

See, I enjoy curling up on the couch with the physical form of a book. I like the way it feels in my hands. I (don’t laugh) like the way books smell.

But I know that the only books my kids’ kids (read: my grand kids) will ever know will be found in a digital form. When I explain to them the good ‘ol days of cars that humans drove and books that contained real pages, they’ll look at me the same way I did when my Dad confessed to me that it took him two years to figure out you could reply to email instead of forwarding your response. (How’s that for some shit my Dad says?)

In short, this device terrifies me and makes me feel old.

I worry about which technological advancements will render me obsolete.

Don’t get me wrong – I love gadgets. But what I don’t love is where my brain goes when I think about the fact that, soon, all of our tomes will be digitized.

What’s next?! ROBOTS THAT READ BOOKS TO US!?

See what I mean? My brain just went there.

In a world destined to be overrun with technologies, ebooks are surely the first step. I have no choice but to willingly succumb to the dark side.

So who wants to buy me a Kindle?

I love Facebook for the simple fact that it’s an easy way to stay in touch with old high school friends and colleagues. You know, people who I don’t see very often, but would like to know how they’re doing.

But even at its best, Facebook should not act as a substitute for personal interaction. In fact, I believe it’s made us lazier when it comes to stoking the relationships that matter.

My wife turning 30 yesterday is a prime example of this phenomenon. 

Guess how her parents and brother wished her a happy birthday?

Yep.

On Facebook.

No phone call. No visit.

A Facebook wall post. They chose the activity that literally took the least amount of effort. And what if my wife didn’t log on yesterday?

It’s so easy to pound out a few words to a friend when you’re killing time on Facebook.

But are you willing to put in the work for the relationships that really matter?

If so, get off Facebook and pick up the phone.

Are you kidding me, Brad?

You’re saying we need to slow down? If anything, we’re not moving fast enough.

I mean, look at everything that has been made available to us in the past decade because of advances in technology:

- We can stream movies instantly, directly to our personal computers.

- We can be alerted each morning about amazing deals in our hometown.

- Our fantasy football scores are automatically tabulated IN REAL TIME.

- I can bring my entire CD collection with me to the gym.

- If I had an Xbox 360, I could play a game of Madden against my friend, who lives an hour away, from the comfort of my basement.

- We can buy our groceries online.

- Robot slaves do our bidding.

If I tried hard enough, I could live, work and play without ever leaving my living room. ‘Course, that doesn’t indicate a need for speed, but it shows that’s I’m willing to embrace the technology, thus, freeing up time for other things, allowing me to do more.

So to say that we need to slow down is absurd. Look around you. Everybody is moving faster than they were the day before. Those who stop to smell the roses are going to get clipped by the hordes of people cruising down the information superhighway, like an elderly woman standing in front of Target on Black Friday.

And all of that talk about technology re-altering or brains, or something? That’s bunk.

If anything, technology is…is…wait, what was I saying?  Actually, forget it. I have to check my e-mail.

At the time of this writing, it’s a lovely, cool late August evening in Michigan, and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with the patio door wide open, letting the breeze stream across the room. It’s a welcome respite from the stifling heat of the past few weeks, but I’m not complaining. There will soon be snow on the ground.

Somewhere outside I can hear a wind chime catch the wind as the cold front makes its way through my neighborhood. Hearing that familiar sound instantly transports me back to family vacations spent “on the farm” at my grandparent’s house in Pennsylvania.

Snuggled in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains, I spent many summers at that house, sitting on the front porch with a book or magazine, while my Grandma’s wind chime provided the same clumsy musical accompaniment that I hear as I type away at my laptop.

This wasn’t so long ago that personal computers and e-mail were nonexistent, but we definitely were not living in the technology-crazy world that we inhabit in 2010.

The Web wasn’t ubiquitous; smartphones and iPods were nowhere to be found.

As far as technology goes, those were simpler times. Aside from a faint longing for my Sega Genesis, my so-called “devices” did not call to me from home, yearning for me to cradle them in my hands, swipe the screen with my finger, or send out a tweet.

But in a few short years, we have become one with our technology. It is literally changing our brains. We can’t go five minutes without checking our e-mail or looking for new Facebook updates from our friends. Smartphones that basically function as computers-in-a-pocket are constantly winning our attention over our friends and family. (When was the last time you actually talked to your friend on the phone?)

While nobody can argue that technology has improved our lives in countless ways, the attention it craves from its users with its myriad apps and alerts has put us in a heightened state of anxiety, always on our toes for something else.

Maybe it’s the familiar comforting ding! of an e-mail landing in our inbox.

Maybe it’s the satisfaction you get when you gain another follower on Twitter.

Whatever it is, we’re always plugged in, moving and thinking as fast as our Internet connection will allow.

We need to slow down.

Take a vacation.

Read a book (a real one.)

Meet a friend for coffee.

Do something. Go out and interact with real flesh-and-blood humans, not the avatars that substitute for their presence. 

But for God’s sake, forget about your technology for a few minutes.

Don’t worry – it will still be there when you get back.