A Deep Divide

I am NOT writing about the divide in this country that has always been there, but that has surfaced in unimaginably awful ways since the election of HWSNBN. I am NOT writing about the divide in Israel between the secular and the fundamentalist religious fanatics. I am NOT writing about the divides in any specific country. I AM writing about something far more universal that affects all of us in this new digital age. I am writing about the divide between the young generation born with technology at their fingertips and those of us born in the previous generation. I am also not writing about the societal problems caused by technology, or the wealth of knowledge that we do have at our fingertips. No, I am writing about the practicalities of life as a peson who was not reared in the digital age. That person is me. Not too long ago I moved, and I now reside in lovely new surroundings. Of that, maybe more later. My landlords and myself share direct service TV. My landlords spent large amounts of their time in farflung areas of the globe. As I wrote in a previous blog, since the inauguration of HWSNBN, I spend inordinate amounts of time escaping from our present reality. I go to movies and watch TV - mostly, I have to say, inelegantly, crap, but it does keep my attention away from our ghastly present reality. There are programs I want to see, but sometimes I am away, so I record them. For instance, Victoria. I faithfully recorded the first season and looked forward to watching it in my time. When I pressed the recorded TV button I saw all sorts of programs I had not, in fact, recorded. I was bemused by the vagaries of my TV which seemed to have a mind of its own. I dutifully deleted all these strange programs. Where was Victoria? no trace, not even the name. For quite a awhile I continued searching in the hope of finding Victoria and diligently deleted all these strange programs which my TV had decided, on its own accord, to record. A short while ago it dawned on me that maybe my landlords had recorded these programs as we share the 'service.' This was confirmed in an e-mail I received last night politely inquiring as to the possibility that I may be deleting the recordings they had programmed. I am, of course, mortified. However, the whereabouts of Victoria was still a mystery to me. I replied, acknowledging that I am guilty, abjectly so, miserably so. I then told them about the absence of Victoria. They confessed that they had also recorded Victoria and deleted it after they watched it. A dreadful error on both our sides. Today I went to my writing group. Previously we had decided that each member would bring a favorite piece of music to play, then the group would write about it. Well, the problems we faced. The loudspeakers, the bluetooth, the linking of systems, the setting up of the apparatus. Our omputers, wi-fi, passwords, playing a song, replaying a song. The only beneficial outcome of all this is that I no longer look at my technological awkwardness and fumblings as personal. I am not totally dumb, backward, retarded (sorry for the use of the word), clumsy, inept, inefficient, uneducated, fumbling - rather I belong to a cohort that was born before all of this entered our lives. I pass the baton to the 6-month old babies who soon will teach me all I need to know to survive!