On the morning of Christmas Eve last week, I arrived at my gym””usually open at 5 a.m.””at 7:40, only to find that the holiday had delayed its opening to 8 a.m. Four of us stood there in a vestibule, listening to a frosty wind blow outdoors. The moment seemed perfect for holiday banter””how virtuous we were to be squeezing in a workout, how virtue would utterly disappear in the festive hours ahead. But one fellow pulled out his BlackBerry, and as if on cue, the rest of us did the same. For 20 minutes we read or sent emails and spoke nary a word to each other.
Of course, the image of the Internet holdout isn’t exactly a wholesome one. “Luddite” is the usual word for him, and the most infamous Luddite in modern times, Ted Kaczynski, was a lonely lunatic who killed and maimed in the name of tradition.
But in truth, little is really known about the offline American, and much is assumed: that he is rural, poor and possibly militant in his opposition to the Internet (although one blessing is that such opponents would have trouble finding each other offline).
I once had a high school history teacher, Mr. Bower, who told us on several occasions that the automatic door opener just might be the reason Americans don’t connect with one another in same way. In the old days, he said, you’d come home from running errands or from work, and you would park your car in the driveway, get out, and open the garage door manually. Inevitably, you’d see your neighbor, stop and say hello, and end up talking for a while. After the powered, remote-control door openers became popular, neighbors became more isolated. He was on to something. I’d love to find Mr. Bower and see what he thinks of our day of instant communication and social networking…
I guess I’m in the “in” crowd now. When my ten-year-old takes over the computer I fall back to the Blackberry.
Just yesterday I was contemplating what life might be like without the internet.