First, I’m not advocating becoming a Luddite, or any other such extreme opponent of technology. But I am advocating considering the downside to the magic of technology, particularly as Christmas approaches.
As we are all painfully aware, the shopping season for each holiday starts earlier and earlier each year. Before one major holiday ends it seems the displays of items for the next appear on the shelves.
No one is forcing you to buy them, but they are there accelerating the already rapid passage of time.
Halloween decorations appear in July, Thanksgiving in August, and Christmas in September. The rush to the future is on.
I suppose one has to accept such things in a world where patience long ago fled the jurisdiction what with instant Amazon deliveries, microwave five course meals, and instant gratification for entertainment.
It is this last item—the immediate availability of almost every movie or TV show ever produced—that troubles me the most. Such instantaneous access steals the magic.
1964 and 1965 saw the release of two of the most magical TV specials ever produced, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Charlie Brown’s Christmas. The anticipation of watching these shows lingered just below the surface until Fall, then grew as the first hint of winter and the holidays approached.
Every year since their release I have watched these shows with the same sense of magic and awe. Every year.
And as I became a father and grandfather the idea of sitting on a comfortable couch with my daughter and later grandsons, wrapped in a blanket as cold and snow howled outside, as the opening scenes of Sam the snowman telling the story of the storm of the century in Rudolph or Linus’s brilliant soliloquy on the meaning of Christmas, was the sign of a life of success.
Nothing can replace such magic. By my calculations, I have watched those shows a combined 119 times. But the reality is different.
Back in the days of VHS tapes I should have recognized the signs. Technology, offering a copy of the shows to watch at your leisure, was slowly stealing the magic. While we may have only watched them two or three times, it was different.
Today, we can watch them on our phones, laptops, and iPads on demand and broadcast them on our giant TV screens. Anytime, anywhere, any place.
I’m willing to bet, given the choice, my grandson, Levi, would watch these shows and pass my total number in a week. Wyatt is still a bit too young to embrace the full story, but he does watch in between exploring the world with his newfound ability to walk.
The magic is still there if you look for it, but it is diluted by such availability.
As I said in the beginning, I’m not advocating abandoning technology. I couldn’t publish these rantings for you to read without it, but we need be judicious in its use.
Hearing the memories of Clarice singing “there’s always tomorrow for dreams to come true” or swaying to the sounds of Vince Guaraldi’s timeless “Linus and Lucy” theme kept the magic alive in my heart all these years.
I hope to find a way to pass that on.
Author’s Note: I have my own tradition of passing on a story for which one must have patience. Every Christmas season when I was growing up in Cumberland, Rhode Island, the Pawtucket Times published a serialized story over the two weeks leading to Christmas.
One had to wait each day for the next chapter to arrive. Imagine! Several years ago, I started my own version and will continue this until I am just a memory myself. This year’s story will start on December 10. Here’s a link to last year’s in case you’d like to see what’s in store.
The Writing of Joe Broadmeadow 