The Last of a Dying Breed
12.07.06An old friend of mine died recently. Well, I mean he wasn't an "old friend." He was in his late 70s (which I think still qualifies as "old") and he was a friend, even though I was privileged to know him for only five or six years. Still, his passing leaves a pretty big gap in my life, and I think I know why.
John was a dabbler, a sort of Renaissance man, if you will. And you just don't see a whole lot those around anymore, not in this age of narrowly defined interests. He was a courtly man, a retired cab driver who thought of himself as an artist. He was an accomplished painter. He could sculpt. He wrote poetry, which wasn't very good, and prose, which was top notch. He played some classical guitar and fooled around with the piano. He was a lifelong scuba diver who hunted abalone up the coast and had once been a competitive swimmer. He traveled the world several times over. He spoke a couple of languages. He was married three or four times. (He never got the hang of domesticity apparently, but he always spoke fondly of his exes.)
He was one of those larger-than-life guys who always made you smile when he hove into view.
But he never learned how to use a computer. What's more, he never had any interest in learning. For John, life existed "out there," not on a screen. He never owned a cell phone, or any phone, for that matter. Didn't have a TV. Probably never heard of an iPod. But he was one of the most interesting people I've ever known.
I think what made John so interesting, beyond the adventures he had and the great stories he loved to tell, was that there was always momentum to his life. He could make a lot out of a little. His days were full and I'll wager that, after Viagra came along, his nights were pretty busy, too. He personified the active over the passive. He was a doer, not a watcher.
Which is probably the biggest reason John didn't care about computers. Yes, they're efficient and good for business, if business is what you care about. But sitting at a computer when you don't have to is to be cripplingly passive, even if you're playing the bloodiest, most maniacal shooter game ever. Sorry, podnah, but that doesn't make you Billy the Kid. You're just a couch potato with twitchy fingers.
Computers have changed the nature of the workplace, the nature of work itself. This is the information age so a lot of us are cubicle-bound and tethered to the screen, whether we like it or not. It's also the age of specialization. You gotta work to live so unless you've cultivated a rare skill -- like you can really hit a curveball or something -- there's a good chance you'll wind up behind a desk. And on that desk, inevitably, will be a computer.
Which makes it really important for your balance and well-being to get out into the world in your free time and do something -- anything -- that doesn't involve some kind of software.
The physical toll of computer overuse is well documented. And while I'm unaware of any statistical data supporting my thesis that sitting in front of a computer for more than a few hours a day is spiritually draining, anecdotal evidence abounds. You just have to look around you, at a society growing more dysfunctional, discourteous and disconnected every day. There are a lot of reasons for this, of course, but technology that discourages real human contact is certainly a prime contributor.
We are social animals. We are meant to see each other, speak with each other, touch each other, smell each other. "Connecting" online with people you never actually see face-to-face doesn't count. If that's what passes for "community" in the 21st century, well, poor us.
Should we be more like John? Sure, if you can swing it. If you're resourceful enough and not materialistic you might have a shot, but the world has changed since John was young. It's hard to poke around in the interesting corners of life when you're under the gun to make as much money as possible just to stay afloat.
Pity. We'd be so much better off.
Tony Long is copy chief at Wired News.
