I recently finished the book, Hamlet's Blackberry, by William Powers.  The author gives voice to nagging questions in the minds of anyone with Internet connectivity and multiple screens in their home and work environment (which is pretty much everyone I know):

"Is being more digitally connected *really* a good thing?"

Powers answers the questions:

"How did we get here?"

"What can we practically do about it, without resorting to being a hermit?"

A global economy has changed the way many of us work.  Ten years ago, I didn't hear professionals talking about working nearly around the clock (e.g., 11pm conference calls with colleagues in other parts of the world.) Today, it's commonplace. In this new world, texting at all hours of the day or night and answering emails from wherever you are doesn't seem so outlandish.  For several years now, I've referred to this as the "electronic leash." 

Powers argues that while technology has enabled an "always on" state, it's not a condition that puts us at our best.  To make meaning of the world around us, we need processing time, away from other people.  To create, and draw upon our inner muse, rather than blindly following the crowd, we need time alone.  We are better off when we strategically choose to disconnect.  Photo by miyeong.

For me, the book is a validation and reinforcement of the necessity to have time to think…and blog.  Blogging is my way of making sense of the world around me, where the inkling or odd feeling gets fleshed out.  Ironically, blogging connects me with others.  But first, it connects me to myself.

No sooner had I finished the book, did I see a Wall Street Journal article titled, "The Only Tech These Geeks Lack is a Cart To Haul Their Gadgets."  It cited people who carry more than one device for staying connected, including a CEO of a startup that totes around 25+ lbs. of gear. In his stash are multiple phones, tablets, headsets, and routers (yes, you read that correctly, routers.)  Honestly, there's got to be a name for this disease.  Even sadder–about half of the commenters completely missed the point by sharing different configurations of equipment that could make the load lighter while providing just as much connectivity.  Photo by kodomut

This is not to say that my house isn't riddled with screens or that I'm techno-gadget free.  For the past few years, I've seen less and less of my sons, as they retreat to their rooms–after coming home from school, after dinner, and for the better part of weekends–to stay connected to friends on multi-player video games and through chat windows.  While I don't have a smart phone, the thought has crossed my mind to get one, just to keep up with what technology is providing (especially apps.) And if anyone were to monitor my email and social media habits, I might be diagnosed with a mild case of the electronic leash.

The best part of the Powers' book is towards the end, where he provides his own family experience with an "Internet Sabbath."  He, his wife, and his son agreed to turn off the modem from Saturday to Sunday, every weekend.  After several years of doing this, they now enjoy their time away from "the crowd" that is the Internet. They look forward to time, carved out of the weekend, for themselves, and no one else.

This intrigued me enough to propose a shortened version to my husband and sons–from Saturday at noon to Sunday at noon.  Andy, the younger and possibly most connected of all of four of us, quickly found reasons not to do this.  His argument?  There were ways to game the system and still stay disconnected from each other and oneself, Nintendo games being one of them.

My husband agreed and proposed something that got more to the crux of the matter–having time allocated each week to spend together as a family, without any outside distractions. While this might have not have been such a big deal when my kids were in grade school, or even middle school, the teenage years have been different.  I get the thing about independence, but that's different from disconnection.

As a start, we settled on a board game and making cookies after Sunday dinner. For several years, Sunday has been my one night of the week to cook. It's a time when I can plan a special meal, one that takes more time to make than what we can devote on a weekday, and one that invites everyone to linger at the table a bit longer than usual. I've learned that the way to capture a teenage boy's attention, without resorting to learning World of Warcraft (a popular video game), is through his stomach. Photo by Michael(mx5tx)

My heart is happy tonight. After a fine meal (complete with sparkling cranberry juice–a bit hit), we broke out the Scrabble set on the kitchen table.  In parallel, whoever was furthest away from their turn worked on the dough for chocolate chip cookies. It was fun to work on something together, even if the cookies came out a bit flat (forgot to adjust for high altitude) and the calories over the top with Ghiradelli chocolate chips. I can't remember the last time we laughed as a family as much as this evening.  I won the Scrabble game but more importantly, we won as a family.  For 90 minutes, we forgot about the screens and we engaged with each other, enjoying each others' company for more than a bite or two. Photo by Lara604

Which brings me to an awareness of how much I cherish having a deep connection to those who matter most to me–my family.  Without that, life seems flat.

As Thanksgiving approaches, visualize a meal with no connection to the outside world, and every connection to those sitting around the table.  The rest of the world can wait.