It's one strange, overconnected world


The most precious commodity any of us has is something none of us can control, or save, or give to another: time.

It’s intriguing to look back on the post-World War II era and try to imagine what life was like those 60-something years ago. With all the new labor-saving devices that were being invented in those days, people began to wonder what they would do to occupy the free time they would soon have on their hands.

Just imagine — women could have a machine to heat water, another to wash clothes and still another to dry clothes once they were clean. Of course, many women opted for an old-fashioned clothesline. After all, the clothes were already washed; it was nothing to simply hang them out to dry.

Another amazing machine began to appear in American homes after the war: the television. And while most people knew it had the potential to waste a lot of time, no one worried about it too much because there was still plenty to do to keep the average person busy. And certainly the average housewife.

But then a twin set of discoveries came along that opened up another huge block of time and would revolutionize the way people thought about eating.

First, a man named Birdseye realized that fresh vegetables could be frozen and transported to market in large freezer trucks. Next, a company named Swanson figured out that people were starting to eat dinner in front of their televisions. Why not make a whole little dinner that could be frozen, then reheated in the oven and eaten in front of the television?

No matter where you turned, life was getting easier and easier.

In the 1950s, a man named Ray Kroc discovered two restaurateurs named McDonald who had another idea about eating: Why not pick up a fast, cheap hamburger on the way home, along with some french fries and something to drink? Dinner solved, quick and easy. Kroc founded the McDonald’s Corp. and eventually took it national.

There seemed to be no end to the labor-saving machines that could be manufactured as long as there was electricity to run them. Sewing machines, steam irons, toasters, waffle makers, corn poppers, garage door openers — even an electric lawn mower.

By the time the ’60s rolled around, you didn’t have to travel to hear a symphony; there was music in stereo, like an orchestra in your own home! You didn’t have to leave home to get what you needed or wanted anymore — it was all right there at your fingertips.

Next came a discovery that changed not only our manual work but far more importantly our mental work. It was based on the same problem solver that made all the other labor-saving devices possible: electricity.

We discovered that the two aspects of the electrical impulse, on and off, could be coded into machine language and programmed to run something called a computer. Of course, the ending of that story is still being written.

Ironically, as it turns out, not only do we not have extra time on our hands, but with the widespread use of hand-held cellphones and the ubiquitous computer, suddenly, for the first time in the history of humanity, we are all available and all on call, all the time. We are all expected to participate in a conversation that never ends via the Internet, and if we refuse to join in, our friends will ask us, “What’s wrong with you?”

In the meantime, babies still come into the world needing the one thing that only someone else can give them: time. Couples in love still need to get to know each other in real-life time. No matter what kind of work they do, people still need to put in their 40 hours a week. Children spend hours each day in classrooms learning what only a real, live human being can teach them: the ABC’s of relationships.

Every one of us is given the same 24 hours to spend as we choose each day. The world around us clamors for attention even as those close to us languish for lack of intimacy. It’s a strange, overconnected world of too many chat rooms at the expense of the few heart-to-heart talks we manage to pack into our already overbooked schedules.

The substance of life is time.

Let me say that again: The substance of life is time.

If we do not make the time to do what is important to us, no one else will clear out our schedules for us. In fact, if they see an opening, they will be tempted to find some way they can use it for their own purposes. The only person who can safeguard the sanctity of our time, the very fabric of our lives, is us. You are the keeper of your own calendar.

When we come to the end of our time in this world, no one will apologize for asking us to do mindless, unnecessary, diddling little things that ate up our precious hours. But we will wonder what we did with that vast richness of days. Where did they go?

What’s on your bucket list? What things will you kick yourself for if you don’t do them? When are you planning to do them? If that day isn’t marked on your calendar and jealously defended, it will never get here.

The only one who can make it happen is you.


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