In the night sky the distant stars appear to be bright dots. One can visualize patterns in the stars. With no technology except observation and memory, our ancestors saw the stars as constellations and projected on the visualized images destiny over human fate. By seeing patterns and connecting the dots, ancient people would strive to connect to the forces beyond understanding.
Now, in the digital age, we have a seemingly unlimited flow of information and the nearly unlimited accumulation of human knowledge and creativity at the tips of our fingers. The dots have been replaced by pixels. Because of pixelated proximity we have the sensation of connection, but that too is an optical illusion.
Everyone wants a good connection. Once, a good connection was the fellow you could buy weed from. If a guy was connected, it meant he was mobbed up.
Now, when we say connection, we speak of the entire globe hooked together through a web and we can poke anyone anywhere instantaneously. A good Internet connection has become something like a necessity.
There was a time when, if you wanted to reach out and touch someone you had to be close by. To communicate at greater distance we used signal fires or runners. Paintings on cave walls were yelling out “Can you hear me now?” long before mobile phone ads or Alexander Graham Bell showed up on the scene.
Communicating over distance involved travel or enough imagination to turn letters exchanged by slow moving mail into fluid conversation. Letter writing was an art. The practice of that art was widespread.
A letter was not limited to a number of characters by technological design and restraints. The length and depth of a letter was determined by the veracity, tenacity, pugnacity, passion or obsessiveness of the writer.
Then, wires were strung from coast to coast and cables from continent to continent bringing the immediacy and convenience of cutting edge technology to the far flung corners of the once distant globe. Before long a telephone was to be found in almost everyone's home and pay phones in booths positioned on many corners. One could even call from one payphone to another if privacy was a concern.
I find it interesting that we still use the word “dial” when we speak of placing a phone call. When I was a kid, telephones had a rotary device that was an essential element to the function. It has been decades since that has been true.
The dial was replaced by push buttons and the push buttons have been largely replaced by touch screens. Swiping and tapping is now the norm. While my phone is processing an electronic command and negotiating the labyrinth of cell towers and satellites involved the scrolling message on my screen reads “now dialing” or something to that effect.
It is not hard to imagine placing an online order from any remote corner of our planet and an automated delivery of anything you wish within an hour or so. I can imagine such things. All it takes is being connected.
Interestingly enough, my tablet informs me often enough that I am “connected” but there is no Internet. While the gizmo shows an incessant scrolling symbolically representing an attempt to connect, I have lots of time to ponder the glories of our modern technological possibilities.
It won't be long, I suppose, before we will have the option of traveling from planet to planet and galaxy to galaxy, well beyond the familiar constellations. With long distance travels and communications it is best to not be sucked into a black hole. Of that I am fairly sure.
For years I used a basic cell phone and it worked pretty well most of the time in most of the country, until we got to this corner of rural Oregon. Woodpecker Flats, near the intersection of Loony Mountain Road and No Way is at the center of a communications black hole.
Mostly there is no cell phone signal at all. If you walk up or down Loony Mountain Road there are some random spots where a signal comes through occasionally but mostly not at all. Driving north on the highway will bring you to the Rough and Ready Creek and the signal comes in pretty clear there most of the time.
Strangely enough, we discovered one spot about four feet from our camper where we could perch my cell phone and get enough of a signal to send and receive text messages sometimes. Leaving a cell phone out in the rain of course is a bad idea and may affect the way it operates. I speak from experience. I dried it out and it worked again for a while, but…
Public Internet access is sometimes available at the library in Cave Junction which is only about ten miles from Woodpecker Flats. The library is open thirteen hours a week and sometimes the Internet is working. Sometimes it works on and off. Sometimes they have a sign up that says they are waiting for the tech crew to show up and fix it any day now.
One has to take it all in stride. We have other sorts of concerns about connections that have priority over accessing the World Wide Web.
There are three extension cords that connect us to the power box that connects us to the electric grid. When too much power is pulled, like perhaps the extravagent use of a toaster, I need to pull on my boots and go flip the switch at the box. This is most likely when it is raining and at night so a raincoat may be useful and it requires a flashlight, hopefully with good batteries.
We also have three hoses that connect us to water. When the water is not flowing you need to follow the source upstream. Most likely someone disconnected a hose. In the summertime when a lot of water is being used for gardens and bathing and such, the problem may be further upstream, at the well house where the pump needs restarting. In the winter, chances are the water is frozen and all you can do is wait. We keep a bottle or two of water around just for washing because when it gets real cold there will be no running water.
It is wise to have some idea about how other sorts of things connect as well. You may have learned that most things tighten to the right - Lefty Loosey, Righty Tighty - and that is mostly true. With connecting propane it is just the opposite and that is very important to know. A good propane connection makes cooking and heating water possible. A poor propane connection could be dangerous.
Running out of propane, especially when it is cold, is most unfortunate. You can expect that the propane tank will need replacing at night, when it is cold and rainy. It is best to figure out that you need to do this before you get naked and stand in the shower.
Living in the country involves a lot of driving. Ribbons of highways connect us if we don't mind the drive. Not all that long ago, although admittedly well before my time, if you used the word “drive” it usually had something to do with moving cattle across many miles of open terrain. The people that did the work of driving the herds were called “drovers” or “cowboys” and these folks rode on horses while driving. A teamster was a fellow that handled a team of horses strapped together to pull a wagon.
Now we drive cars and trucks and the power of these vehicles is measured by horsepower, and a Teamster is a member of a union who may or may not drive a truck. A trucker is one who drives a truck and can also mean a go-getter.
Of course, that's all about to change. When the vehicles are all electric and are programmed to operate without our physical intervention, will we still speak of driving?
What happens to all that fancy and all so smart technology when it enters the dead zone that surrounds Woodpecker Flats? Do you think the very smart cars will be able to find the way up Loony Mountain Road, out No Way, up and down our rutted driveway and distinguish which broke down trailer to park in front of?
I am mildly optimistic that self-driving cars will be the norm before I become too feeble to drive myself. I wouldn't bet even money that any high tech gadget will ever get me all the way home.
I guess we will see how it works out. Go ahead and try to get in touch with me if you want to know how it looks from out here. Telephoning is still touch and go. You can email or text and chances are I will eventually pick up the message. Send me a letter as long as we still have a postal service and I will pick it up when I make it down the hill to the Post Office. No promises from me, how good my response might be.
If you really want to find me, probably best all summer to look in my garden. In the winter I’ll be in the camper trying to stay warm, probably smoking weed. Come by and visit. That's called being connected. If you are here at night you can see the stars and between us we can decide what it all means. Maybe the patterns will make sense if we connect the dots.
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