If the Iowa caucuses taught us anything, it's not about politics: Lord knows that picture is as murky as ever. Even after New Hampshire, even after Nevada and South Carolina, even after Super Tuesday, the odds of the Democratic nominating process being definitely decided are somewhere between slim and none. When the June 2 Guam vote and the June 6 Virgin Islands contest may be the difference makers, you know you have to reevaluate your system.
No, what it taught us is that we can take even the easiest thing and make it hard. After all, what could be easier than having a group of people picking among a bunch of choices? You put them all together in a room, and ask folks to raise their hands for each. If you want to make it private, you ask each to write their choice on a slip of paper, then you tabulate the results. The one with the most votes is declared the winner. As Ed Norton says to the Chef of the Future, "Zip, Zip and it's done!" Simplicity itself.
But just like that famous Honeymooner episode, sometimes the modern way isn't the better way. Sometimes it complicates the situation, adding complexity where none is needed. Or as Bret Stephens wrote in The New York Times, "In Iowa, someone had the remarkable idea that an app could make things easier, and instead it did precisely the opposite. We'll have to add this to the list of things we used to be able to do as a country but no longer can: fly to the moon; build highway intersections in under a decade; and teach long division in a comprehensible fashion."
In fact, there is a laundry list of things that we have either forgotten how to do or have been obsoleted by "the modern way." In some case the improvement is for the best. In others, it's just another way of doings things: not necessarily better, just different. And in still others, as in a better way to "core a apple," one has to wonder if it is an improvement at all.
Take getting somewhere. My dad taught me how to read a map back in my Boy Scout days, and I have loved them every since. When I learned to drive, I began to collect road maps, and looked forward to passing them onto our boys. I wanted to show them the tips and tricks I had learned, including how to refold them when done.
Then GPS happened. No longer do you need to pour over an outdated piece of paper to plot your route. All you need to do is say "I'm here and I want to go there" and the best route is computed almost instantly. Now even the most directionally challenged among us (Honey, I'm looking at you) can get from any one to place to any other.
The same situation exists for remembering phone numbers (your phone), looking at houses for sale (Zillow), math(calculator), programming a VCR (Netflix), using a travel agent (Expedia) and on and on. Once you experience the current equivalent, it's hard to imagine ever doing it any other way. That said, the new method is not always superior: making a Spotify playlist is the not the same as making a mixtape, and it will never rise to the level of Jackson Browne singing "The Load Out" and plunging right into "Stay."
But as Iowa demonstrated and Stephens noted, it can also go the other direction. The new math is harder than the old math. You can't repair even the simplest of appliances anymore with a pliers and a screwdriver. And when was the last time you picked up a phone to be pleasantly surprised by an old friend calling? Now you never pick it up unless you recognize the caller ID as your kids, your mother or your spouse. And even then voicemail can be a godsend.
It's a matter of picking and choosing, of deciding when a pencil is better than a keyboard, when a conversation is better than a text. You have to balance what works for you with the tools and tricks of the digital age. Or as George Carlin put it "I'm new wave, but I'm old school and my inner child is outward bound."
-END-
Marc Wollin of Bedford still has a pencil sharpener on his desk. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
No, what it taught us is that we can take even the easiest thing and make it hard. After all, what could be easier than having a group of people picking among a bunch of choices? You put them all together in a room, and ask folks to raise their hands for each. If you want to make it private, you ask each to write their choice on a slip of paper, then you tabulate the results. The one with the most votes is declared the winner. As Ed Norton says to the Chef of the Future, "Zip, Zip and it's done!" Simplicity itself.
But just like that famous Honeymooner episode, sometimes the modern way isn't the better way. Sometimes it complicates the situation, adding complexity where none is needed. Or as Bret Stephens wrote in The New York Times, "In Iowa, someone had the remarkable idea that an app could make things easier, and instead it did precisely the opposite. We'll have to add this to the list of things we used to be able to do as a country but no longer can: fly to the moon; build highway intersections in under a decade; and teach long division in a comprehensible fashion."
In fact, there is a laundry list of things that we have either forgotten how to do or have been obsoleted by "the modern way." In some case the improvement is for the best. In others, it's just another way of doings things: not necessarily better, just different. And in still others, as in a better way to "core a apple," one has to wonder if it is an improvement at all.
Take getting somewhere. My dad taught me how to read a map back in my Boy Scout days, and I have loved them every since. When I learned to drive, I began to collect road maps, and looked forward to passing them onto our boys. I wanted to show them the tips and tricks I had learned, including how to refold them when done.
Then GPS happened. No longer do you need to pour over an outdated piece of paper to plot your route. All you need to do is say "I'm here and I want to go there" and the best route is computed almost instantly. Now even the most directionally challenged among us (Honey, I'm looking at you) can get from any one to place to any other.
The same situation exists for remembering phone numbers (your phone), looking at houses for sale (Zillow), math(calculator), programming a VCR (Netflix), using a travel agent (Expedia) and on and on. Once you experience the current equivalent, it's hard to imagine ever doing it any other way. That said, the new method is not always superior: making a Spotify playlist is the not the same as making a mixtape, and it will never rise to the level of Jackson Browne singing "The Load Out" and plunging right into "Stay."
But as Iowa demonstrated and Stephens noted, it can also go the other direction. The new math is harder than the old math. You can't repair even the simplest of appliances anymore with a pliers and a screwdriver. And when was the last time you picked up a phone to be pleasantly surprised by an old friend calling? Now you never pick it up unless you recognize the caller ID as your kids, your mother or your spouse. And even then voicemail can be a godsend.
It's a matter of picking and choosing, of deciding when a pencil is better than a keyboard, when a conversation is better than a text. You have to balance what works for you with the tools and tricks of the digital age. Or as George Carlin put it "I'm new wave, but I'm old school and my inner child is outward bound."
-END-
Marc Wollin of Bedford still has a pencil sharpener on his desk. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
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