My friends use Facebook. And, yes, I do, too.
My professional colleagues send text messages or send small notes via instant messenger.
I know newspapers that Twitter news stories. You can read this column on the Web and write me your thoughts via e-mail. My kids love to send text messages via their phone.
Yes, we all love technology.
The small, gray cell phone I own flips open, makes a StarTrek bleep, and looks just like the communicator used by Captain Kirk. It’s simple, easy and convenient.
And it’s making us forget the simple act of conversation.
Not that long ago, I watched my daughter sit on her bed with her cousin and send text messages back and forth and, just for the heck of it, to another cousin sitting on the floor at our house. For the record, this occured with three 14-year-old girls — quite possibly the most vocal species known to man.
But instead of talking, they texted.
On any given day, as I walk across the University of Oklahoma campus, I watch my fellow students plug into their iPods or the phones, oblivious to those other students who also are plugged into their iPods and their cell phones.
Frankly, I prefer old school.
I prefer talking.
I prefer the face-to-face approach.
Last week, I met a friend for coffee. A fellow reporter, he agreed, provided we disavowed any technology. There were no iPods, no laptops and no cell phones.
We simply talked.
Over several cups of coffee and a few muffins, we caught up on each others lives, swapped kid stories, laughed a great deal and, generally, had a great time.
Several weeks ago, I had the same type of meeting with my niece and several other friends. We all met on a warm Sunday afternoon at a small, funky coffee shop and just talked.
The results were amazing.
Instead of feeling disconnected and out-of-touch, we shared our thoughts and fears and concerns. We learned more about the depth of each person and what, exactly, made them like they were. We communicated as humans are supposed to communicate. And in the process, it gave us a richer understanding of each other.
As I write this, the newspaper industry is struggling to redefine itself. Newspaper experts are telling editors, reporters and writers that we must embrace technology and provide information in the form the reader wishes to receive it.
But, last year’s big ice storm — and the smaller one this year — reminded me just how far we have to go. Last January, with no electricity, no computers, televisions or e-mail, residents turned back, again, to ink on paper to get information.
Those newspapers found on icy sidewalks didn’t need extension cords or pdf readers. They simply needed to be unfolded.
The same goes for us humans.
We don’t need gadgets, earphones or Facebook.
We, simply, need to sit face-to-face, open our hearts and listen.
My professional colleagues send text messages or send small notes via instant messenger.
I know newspapers that Twitter news stories. You can read this column on the Web and write me your thoughts via e-mail. My kids love to send text messages via their phone.
Yes, we all love technology.
The small, gray cell phone I own flips open, makes a StarTrek bleep, and looks just like the communicator used by Captain Kirk. It’s simple, easy and convenient.
And it’s making us forget the simple act of conversation.
Not that long ago, I watched my daughter sit on her bed with her cousin and send text messages back and forth and, just for the heck of it, to another cousin sitting on the floor at our house. For the record, this occured with three 14-year-old girls — quite possibly the most vocal species known to man.
But instead of talking, they texted.
On any given day, as I walk across the University of Oklahoma campus, I watch my fellow students plug into their iPods or the phones, oblivious to those other students who also are plugged into their iPods and their cell phones.
Frankly, I prefer old school.
I prefer talking.
I prefer the face-to-face approach.
Last week, I met a friend for coffee. A fellow reporter, he agreed, provided we disavowed any technology. There were no iPods, no laptops and no cell phones.
We simply talked.
Over several cups of coffee and a few muffins, we caught up on each others lives, swapped kid stories, laughed a great deal and, generally, had a great time.
Several weeks ago, I had the same type of meeting with my niece and several other friends. We all met on a warm Sunday afternoon at a small, funky coffee shop and just talked.
The results were amazing.
Instead of feeling disconnected and out-of-touch, we shared our thoughts and fears and concerns. We learned more about the depth of each person and what, exactly, made them like they were. We communicated as humans are supposed to communicate. And in the process, it gave us a richer understanding of each other.
As I write this, the newspaper industry is struggling to redefine itself. Newspaper experts are telling editors, reporters and writers that we must embrace technology and provide information in the form the reader wishes to receive it.
But, last year’s big ice storm — and the smaller one this year — reminded me just how far we have to go. Last January, with no electricity, no computers, televisions or e-mail, residents turned back, again, to ink on paper to get information.
Those newspapers found on icy sidewalks didn’t need extension cords or pdf readers. They simply needed to be unfolded.
The same goes for us humans.
We don’t need gadgets, earphones or Facebook.
We, simply, need to sit face-to-face, open our hearts and listen.
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