Ayo Technology

I was having a conversation last night where I found myself referencing Silk's not-so-classic video for their most famous single, "Freak Me". In the video (which dropped I believe in either '91 or '92) there's a scene where the entire group, unnecessarily shirtless, are wrapped in towels with pagers clipped to them. This was the age when the pager was the telecommunications accessory of the moment. Why they would have pagers in the showers was a question that obviously didn't concern the director.

While I am a tech-head, I'm rarely the first to buy anything. And when it came to pagers I got my first one during the final months before I went to college, nearly two years after most of my friends started carrying them. For one, there weren't that many people trying to get at me who couldn't just leave a message. And two, I didn't want a bill unless I absolutely had to, though Romeo, my service supplier (and a man who was the spitting image of a weed dealer I would meet nearly a decade later) was A-OK once I did have service. I didn't even want a pager in college.

When cellphones came around I fought the trend for as long as I could. Though I had far more friends and was living in New York, I once again didn't see the need for folks to be able to find me at a moment's notice. Even as a reporter there was always enough time to get to a pay box or back to the office to relay crucial info. It was only when I went on my first book tour and had to fit my entire life into a backpack that my first cell account was open, a big ass silver Star Tac that I still have for the sake of posterity.

But when I look across my classroom I have a four girls who all have phones that are going off at least once in our 90-minute class period. And they're so cheap with their minutes that they even talk to their parents on the walkie talkie function. Whereas pagers would be instantly confiscated these kids can always argue that their phones have to stay on in case their parents need them. And parents calling their kids direct instead of the office is a problem within itself, as the administration deemed responsible for their children often ends up getting messages secondhand. Fights are videotaped on phone capture functions(though I kind of wish we had done that as I've seen some pretty amazing fights in my day). And the text messaging never stops.

I've been trying to wean myself off of texting so much. It's a habit that Rich, a man who I believe never uses more than ten minutes of his call plan, got me on. But the more I've done it the less I've found myself actually hearing people's voices. And that makes me feel like I've becoming a part of a world where human contact is becoming less and less important in favor of speed and efficiency. I mean will husbands start sending happy anniversary texts? Will I tell my parents about the birth of my first child via e-mail? I oh so hope not. Hell even your creditors can find you at a moment's notice these days.

So lately, despite my adoration for my Blackberry babies, I've found myself missing certain things of old: seeing a woman's handwriting on that piece of paper when she wants you to call her, that moment of truth when you came to see your answering machine light blinking, and perhaps most importantly, the kind of trust that develops between a parent and child when they are away from one another for more than an hour at a time. Sure the world is more dangerous, but it's also a hell of a lot more paranoid as a result. GPS is going to a nightmare in the years to come.

I can see why my father refuses my attempts to get him an Ipod, or why he doesn't switch out his broken tape deck. Maybe at a certain point in your life you get tired of the new. It zooms past you no matter how hard you try to keep up. You stay with your own rhythm, whether it's sticks and stones or digital hi-fi. And you stay there. I'm not at that point in my life just yet. But I'm sure there will be a time come sooner than later that I might be. Out.