“The More Things Change, the More They do Change” Sydney Williams
Since the Industrial Revolution, the world has seen rapid change, driven by new inventions, most for the better. My grandparents grew up before cars, washing machines, airplanes, or telephones. My parents grew up before radios, jet planes, atom bombs, or Social Security. I grew up without television, computers, microwave ovens, seat belts, and even before zip codes and valium. My children grew up without cell phones, the internet, Sony PlayStations, DVDs, e-mail, or social media.
Are we better off for these inventions? Yes, most have enhanced our lives, and the world is thankful that it was America, not the Nazis, that first produced the atom bomb. Technological advances have freed up time, made jobs safer, improved living standards, and made lives more comfortable. But are we happy? Again, yes; according to Gallup, Americans are generally satisfied with their lives.
Nevertheless, as time rushes by I think of what my grandchildren will never experience: gliding through the park on strapped-on roller skates, rolling up a car window, or emptying an ice tray. They will never use a fountain pen, type a letter on a Smith-Corona, or open a can of peas. They will never play tennis with a wooden racquet, lace a pair of ski boots, or float off on an inner tube. They will never call a friend on a dial phone, pay a bill with Travelers Checks, or read a roadmap. They will never have to get up to change the TV channel, or handle carbon paper. They may never read a print newspaper, use a handkerchief, or mess with a window air-conditioning unit. And their children may never have to pump gas!
Will they miss what they don’t know? Probably not. Do you miss skis with long thongs, tire chains when roads are snow covered, shoveling coal, or using the choke to give your car the proper fuel-air mixture?
Yet, I feel privileged to have grown up in an old-fashioned way – in a small town in New Hampshire, with artist-parents who preferred a simple life, so different from the homes in which they had been raised. We lived on a rocky farm four miles from the village. We had indoor plumbing but no central heat and the house was not insulated until I was about ten. In the kitchen, there was a wood stove and a real ice chest; and in the bathroom the tub sat on claw feet. Our first phone was a wooden box with an ear-piece on the left and a small crank on the right. In front was a mouthpiece into which one spoke. By turning the crank, the operator was aroused who then placed the asked-for call. It was a party line, so first one had to make sure the line was free. Modernity came late to our home.
Dreamers and inventors have improved lives, which speaks to the importance of education. Electric vacuum cleaners, frozen foods, and dish washers have eased the drudgery of housework. Factories and farms have become more efficient. PDAs have made family and friends more accessible. The internet has replaced the need for encyclopedias – though now artificial intelligence is fast approaching, bringing unknown changes. But some things should not change, like curling up before a wood-burning fire on a December night, with a hot chocolate and a book printed on real paper – something I hope my grandchildren will know and enjoy.
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