The Waiting Room

As I sat in a waiting room today, I looked around and noticed that everyone (aside from myself) was busy either playing a Nintendo DS or completely absorbed in their smart phone. I noted one solitary magazine on a table across the room, and a box of not-so-gently used children’s books underneath it. No one was talking. The only sound came from the little boy’s Nintendo game.

As an introvert, I’m perfectly fine with the lack of chit chat in the waiting room, but it leads me to wonder how far this fascination with technology goes. When I was a child (not THAT many years ago) we couldn't watch cartoons in the car while our parents carted us back and forth. We marveled at the little machine that would tell us who called while we were away from the house. Phones were attached to the wall or had super long antennas that would likely put an eye out if you weren't careful. We learned about our friends face to face—or through the rumor mill. We took photographs with a camera, with film, that had to be developed. The one-hour photo service was amazing.

I’m not against technology. I embrace it with arms wide open. However, I do wonder about the kids of today. Are they being exposed to too much technology at too young an age? As these tots grow into young adults, will they possess the social skills needed to interact? Will it even matter?

I guess I’m just an old soul at heart. I long for the days when the perfect afternoon included running around on my grandparents’ farm without a care in the world. We didn't have to worry about our virtual farms or digital cities. Getting a phone call from a friend during summer break was exciting. Receiving a letter in the mail from them was even more special. Declaring boredom got you sent outside, into the fresh air and sunshine, to ride bikes with the neighbor kids.

I often wonder what our society would look like if we all had to unplug for a few days. Something to think about, I suppose.