Connected By Jamie Kirkpatrick

Not all that long ago, if I told you I was a “connected” guy, you might think I was a made friend of Tony Soprano. But now, when I say I’m connected, I really mean I’m at the mercy of a thousand different electronic gizmos or smart phone applications that have been designed by tech-savvy kids half my age to make my life better, easier, simpler. For example, these days, I can set my home thermostat remotely; now, on a frosty morning, I can snuggle down under the covers and turn up the heat from my phone so that when I go downstairs, everything will be toasty. Or this: the smart coffee cup my daughter-in-law gave me for Christmas last year knows how to keep my morning joe at a constant temperature so even when I’m sitting on my front porch in chilly weather, my coffee always stays fresh and piping hot. Or this: I could drive to Timbuktu and back and never get lost because Waze will tell me how to get there, turn by turn. Not all that long ago, I would have needed a little helper in the shotgun seat navigating me across Mali by reading an extra-large, three-fold AAA map upside down. “Turn here!” and suddenly, I’m lost in Mozambique.

Think I’m yearning for simpler times? Not by a long shot! When I was a kid, our black and white tv had three channels and rabbit ears. Now, I need to ask one of the grandkids to turn on the damn set and then navigate through a myriad of platforms and channels so I can watch a football game. Heck, I could even open a multiscreen platform and watch five games all at the same time if I were so inclined. The fact that my eyeballs would be spinning in circles like Jerry Colonna’s isn’t the point; NFL Sunday is there if I want it.

It used to be that the Continental Divide was somewhere atop the Rocky Mountains. Not anymore. Now it’s the hands of young people like my eleven year-old grandson who know what I need and how to get it. The other night, when all the little kids were in bed, four adults spent an hour trying to find a way to download a particular movie we wanted to watch. By the time my friends figured it out, I was asleep, too.

We are indeed living in a brave, new world. The only problem is that I’m cowardly and old. My wife has tried to convince me that we would save a bundle of money if we gave up our home cable service, but I’m afraid that if we do, we’ll never find reruns of the Andy Griffith Show, or that the fees we’ll pay for all those new streaming services will make our current investment in basic cable look paltry in comparison, Sigh.

The days are getting shorter, and I’m not just talking about hours of daylight. I mean my own days are getting shorter. If being connected is this complex, then maybe it’s time for me to head for the Himalayan hills and join a monastery. I could spend my days chanting and studying ancient texts that reveal the true meaning of life. Nah; I’d miss NFL Sunday.

Believe me: I’m doing everything I can to make peace with all this new technology. Now, when I sit shivering on the front porch on one of these chilly October mornings, I’m delighted my coffee will stay piping hot while I watch Andy, Barney, Aunt Bea, and Opie whistling away their best lives down in Mayberry from my phone.

I’ll be right back.

Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives in Chestertown. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine.

His new novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon.