By Elyssa R. Glaus
It’s a Friday night, and like many other families, mine is gathered in the den, flipping through the available movies on the different streaming platforms, coming up dry.
“Ooh, look for ‘The Hobbit!’” my 10-year-old says.
A chorus of agreement ensues, and the search commences. None of our platforms have it right now, and it’s $3.99 from Amazon.
“Wait,” I say, “we own this one. We just have to hook the DVD player back up.”
My husband, who was just about to bite into an enchilada, groans a bit and sets his plate aside. Thirty minutes and several attempts to get the cords through all of the systems correctly later, and the movie is on. The graphics are terrible — no high-def in the old tech — but I am beaming. This is what life was like before we outsourced everything to services. You owned it, you worked for it, and the effort made it all the sweeter.
This is a big theme in my life right now. I am a mother of three, and as conveniences become more widely available — and more difficult to opt out of — I am feeling the pull to slow the pace, simplify, and show my children that, even when it looks like you do not, you have choices for how you consume. I am trying to live a more analog life.
I was born in 1993. I remember what it was like. My childhood and adolescence were full of imagination and adventure. I explored, got lost, found my way, saw sights, made up stories, dreamed of my future. It was wonderful. I want that for my children — adventure, risk, excitement. I want them to have a grip on how life used to be — and secretly still is.
This grip on the old ways is something I have not lost. I have always kept a paper calendar. I do my budgeting on paper and track my cycle by the moon, but there is one threat to my peace that looms — this high-speed computer in my pocket that follows me everywhere — and I have decided I must let it go. A good old-fashioned flip phone is due to arrive on my front steps today. Soon, the process of removing myself from the Social Mediaverse will be complete. Goodbye, dopamine addiction. We were not friends.
I hope this resonates. And if you are trepidacious, let me just say, for some, this will be easy; for others, it will be a monumental task. It requires trust, communication and presence. It also requires saying “no” over and over again. But these no’s create space, and before you know it, you will have turned your doomscrolling time into rest, your afternoon space-out into creative time, and dinner into a ritual that feeds your body, mind, and spirit. You will get your brainspace, your can-do attitude and your love of birdsong back. You will rekindle old friendships and find new ones. You will connect with strangers in coffee shops and watch trains go by — so much excellent graffiti! You will make more home, tend more plants and talk to more bees. You will daydream, journal, doodle and twiddle your thumbs. You will carry on songs like “Miss Mary Mack” and “Miss Susie Had a Baby,” and give another generation of children a reason to clap themselves into puddles of giggles.
You will do all of the things you say you want. The analog life beckons — cut the cord.
Practical Tips for a More Analog Life
Reduce information overload and decision fatigue by limiting your available resources with these tips:
1. Build your reference library made up of books on your topics of interest, a collegiate dictionary and thesaurus, and any relevant religious texts, and make this library readily available in your home.
2. Collect a few cookbooks that contain basic recipes for every day — “Martha’s American Food” and “Paula Dean’s Southern Cooking Bible” are my go-tos — as well as a few for special occasions. A good technique book like “Salt Fat Acid Heat” is great to have on hand, as well.
3. Keep a paper calendar, and reference it often. You will find your recall will improve quickly, and you will always have a ready answer to the question, “What are you doing Friday night?”
4. Wear a sweet analog wristwatch. They never have bad news (unless you are late!).
5. Have a community of people on speed dial to call when you do not know the answer.
6. Carry cash. It talks so much louder than plastic and can get you out of a scrape.
7. Turn your notifications off. Nothing rips you from the present with greater efficiency than the call of the digital world. Decide how you wish to engage, then stick to it.
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