With Every Advance in Technology, We Lose a Functionality

When we went from LPs to tapes, we lost the ability to drop the needle just where we wanted, in the middle of a song. When we went from tapes to CDs, we lost the ability to stop the tape just where we wanted. Same thing. But we lost something else: the LP jacket as art. The LP album cover was the kind of art we could hang on a wall; CDs reduced that art to something you might carry in your wallet or purse. And downloading songs does away with the jacket art altogether. Going back further, I remember driving one of my first cars, a '62 Buick, that had power windows. One hot summer, in Texas, the windows locked up at the same time that the air-conditioning quit. I couldn't roll the windows down because there wasn't a handle. I drove around all summer with the windows up; I was too poor to get the windows fixed. We need to welcome new innovations but, at the same time, realize that we lose something whenever we embrace a new technology. I used to be able to program my VCR by punching buttons on the unit, even when it wasn't on. Now I have to turn the TV on and do any programming on the screen, using my remote. I still love -- and use -- the old technology of getting messages on my answering machine; I don't want to have to dial a number to see if I have messages. The cell phone is a wonderful invention, but now I have no place to hide! Even if I don't leave it on all the time -- and I don't -- anyone can call and leave me a message and then fuss at me later for not responding. What ever happened to privacy? On the other hand, I know people, as you do, who can't go an hour without checking to see if they have phone messages. What did those people do before voicemail? Were they lost, out of contact, drifting, anxious? No, of course they weren't. They went on about their lives, interacting with other people, doing all the things we did before we were in constant contact with each other. It seems to me that we should all use technology on a needs basis: if you need it, use it; if you don't, well, don't. Something gained, something lost; if what is gained doesn't make up for what is lost, reject that technology. If you can afford to. Increases in fuel efficiency have resulted in smaller cars, which are, obviously, less roomy and also potentially more dangerous in a crash. So you can keep driving that big SUV or Hummer, but you may need to cut out other luxuries, or even other necessities, to keep the monster in gas. One of the most useful recent advances in technology is, without a doubt, email. Instant communications without having to wait for the post office to deliver our thoughts/emotions/demands/etc. to someone else. So what is lost? When was the last time you got a handwritten letter from anyone? If you're young enough, chances are that you have NEVER gotten a handwritten letter -- and you likely never will. Type is impersonal; handwriting is about as personal as a human can get. I still receive a letter every few weeks from my 97-year-old mother, but once she's gone, the letters will be gone, too. Nothing from then on but bills and junk mail and countless emails with little smiley face icons. A big loss.
In the meantime, if you need to call me, just leave a voice message -- your own personal voice -- on my answering machine, and I'll get back to you.