Hermitage

I used to think that people walking alone and talking were touched. So did you – admit it. Now we reserve judgment. They may be on the telephone. They may be “reaching out and touching someone” else.

That's the jargon, but the reality is that most people can no longer stand silence, nor to be alone. And at the same time they often insist on being alone. Many of those who have buds in their ears as they walk along with their eyes down are listening to something or other, but not to someone on the other end of the telephone line. It's a “play list,” or some other form of entertainment. For lots of people, the main enemy seems to be actual communication, and they protect themselves from it by whatever means are necessary. With the buds in their ears they warn everyone else to stay away. And the buds provide license to the wearer to ignore everyone around, using the pretense that no one is heard.

I'm more like the members of this latter group. Like Greta Garbo, “I want to be let alone.”ⁱ I prefer silence to people. I'm a hermit. I'm willing to concede that. I prefer isolation.  I'm not enochlophobic – I just don't like people.  So unlike Garbo, I want to be alone as well. Perhaps I should get earbuds connected to wires that are loose in my pocket. No one will suspect a thing. 

But I want to be alone on my terms. And, for better or worse, there's a world out there that I want to be available when I want it to be available.

I raise the issue because, a few days ago, I was cut of from the world. It happened in Massachusetts, in the southern Berkshire mountains, where my wife and I have a vacation home. It's my Hermitage. Andrew Jackson had his (as did Catherine the Great, for that matter) , and this one is mine.ⁱⁱ

I happened to be there alone one dayⁱⁱⁱ when the electricity went off. No big deal. It's happened before. The house is in the woods, and the town is small, but there are available electric company employees in the area and repairs are usually reasonably prompt. I decided to take a nap and reevaluate the situation when I woke up. I suspected that the electricity would be back by that time, and I was right. But when I picked up the telephone,^iv there was no dial tone.

That's a little more unusual. In all likelihood the problem had existed for a while, but, since I rarely use the telephone, I hadn't noticed. My primary use of the land line is to get DSL for my laptop. It had been spotty earlier, but that's frequent when you're out in the country, so I didn't pay much attention to it. Now, though, it was only working sporadically and unpredictably.

So I pulled out the cellular telephone that I occasionally carry in case of emergency. I rarely use it – perhaps once or twice a year – but I have it as insurance. Except the message I got was “No Service.” I think I had overpaid for the “insurance.” The only chance I had to communicate with the outside world was to leave a note on one of the message carriers and hope that it got transmitted in one of the occasional burps of internet service. And fortunately it did, at some time or other after that. The message was addressed to my wife and it asked her to contact someone I know who lives near me^v so that he could have the telephone company check.

I'm not really sure when the message went out, but, as I said, apparently it did, for a couple of hours later there was a knock at the door and I was greeted by my friend's cousin,^vi who came to inform me that my wife had called in a panic, and he wanted to get me to a phone to call her back. (She'd been trying to reach me but all she got was a busy signal, despite the fact that I wasn't using the telephone).

So I did, and after I reassured her about my health, I learned that she had already called the telephone company and they'd come by on the following day. They kept their word and fixed the short on one of their poles about a mile away, and by the following afternoon the world and I were one again.

But I had been unreachable. And just as I, until then, had had the expectation that I could contact others, she expected to be able to speak with me whenever she felt like it. That's the problem. Our ancestors could live in solitude without any concern because they never experienced anything else. On the other hand we, having always been “connected,” become anxious when that capability disappears. It's one of the curses of our modern technological society. The numerous devices we have around have created their own set of expectations and we get nervous when they can't be met. The telephone system^vii at our primary residence is dependent on a backup battery which lasts for about eight hours. It should be plenty of time in a modern city for the return of power. Except that isn't always the case, and once, when electricity was off for several days, we were without power, and without the ability to reach the rest of humanity. As I mentioned, that sort of thing is quite acceptable to me, but most people can't live with it. It's hard for them to tolerate life in a hermitage unconnected to everyone else.

And not everyone can abide a primitive life in general. Abe Lincoln read by candle light. That requires two things: a book and a candle. When the electricity is out and the batteries have already been discharged, there's neither candle nor Kindle. We've become so dependent on technology that its absence is threatening. Our expectations have been raised to such a high level that a fall from it is paralyzing.

So what's the solution? Actually there are three things that can be done. The first, of course, is to prepare for any possible contingencies. For example, get some candles. And get some real books. You should also keep some foods and drinks that won't spoil in the absence of refrigeration.

Next, lower your own expectations and those of the others in your life. When you're hiding away somewhere, let everyone know that you won't be reachable and they shouldn't even try. That won't stop you from contacting them if both the capability and the will exist,^viii but that's your choice. They won't be anticipating it or waiting for it.

And the third thing you can do is somehow or other turn everyone you know into hermits too.

Next episode: “The New Paradigm” – You can decide if it's really better.

i         In “Grand Hotel” (1935) she said “I want to be alone,” but she denied that this was her personal philosophy. Quite correctly she drew a distinction between being alone, and being let alone. The latter was her desire. In terms of quiet, most of her career was in silent films.

ii       Thomas Jefferson occasionally referred to Monticello as “Hermitage.” It seems he not only favored a “wall of separation” between Church and State, but a personal wall between himself and the outside world. I can relate.

iii      My wife was in New York at the time. Sometimes I go to Massachusetts to “veg” and to glory in my solitude, and she comes up for the weekends.

iv       I can't remember why I picked it up. I really don't like talking to people.

v        Actually he lives about a half-hour away, but since he takes care of my house when I'm away he seemed like the logical person to contact.

vi       My friend had fallen asleep. Fortunately he and his cousin live in the same house.

vii      FIOS.

viii     And don't forget to tell them that you had to travel many miles to be able to call them. That will impress them with the idea that you care a lot, and it will give them a sense of guilt for your having to do so just to speak with them. (That may not be true, but it will probably discourage them from calling back.)

The First Step

                                                     

“My name is Sir Oracle, and I'm a retrophiliac.

“I've sort of known that for a long time, but I never gave it much thought. I never really considered its implications, or the effects it might have on others. But when I finally recognized the seriousness of the condition I “googled” it, and I think I now understand it better, and I understand myself better. But I also know that I'll always be a retrophiliac. I'll never be cured.

“And I'm glad.”

I know I'm not supposed to feel that way and I should certainly not say it in public, but that's the way it is. I don't want to be cured! That admission doesn't make for an auspicious start to the process, but the emphasis is on honesty and I have to be honest. So my first step at RAⁱ has to be seen as something less than a complete success.

A retrophiliac, by the way, is someone who's nostalgic; who has a preference for things as they were, rather than as they are. And that's the way I feel. Not for all things – but in some categories. Too many things are changing simply because they can. A lot of those changes are related to the increasingly rapid advancement of science. Many, however, are based on economics. Someone, or some company, has figured out a way to get money from the public and isn't shy about hawking a useless product, or a book about a useless technique, or something else, to a gullible audience. I remember a time when the latest car model wasn't very different from the last,ⁱⁱ and prices (and the stock market) didn't change wildly from day to day.ⁱⁱⁱ It was a time of stability. At least it seemed so to me.

Perhaps it seemed so because the primary responsibilities belonged to my parents. I had no concern about life's practicalities and little interest in the world around me. Except, of course, for baseball. But even there you knew that the players on your favorite team would be the same ones as last year. That's certainly not the case today.

Times have changed. Prices go in only one direction – up. Women's clothes seem to be fashioned as part of a competition for the bizarre, and the models are chosen for their appearance of boredom, or their similarity^iv to dazed drug addicts with eating disorders. Food styles emphasize exotically-flavored dishes in tiny portions.^v In addition, we live at a time when popular “music” isn't music. Rap with a backup of rhythm only, and loud^vi rock mock what we used to hear.

And things are moving too fast for me. Especially science.^vii There's a new discovery daily of what life is like^viii a few billion light-years away. But we'll never experience it, so we'll never really know. And most of us – people like me – won't care. The development of nanoscience, at the other end of the spectrum, may have more practical applications, but it is equally incomprehensible, as well as being hidden from our view. I do welcome many of the medical advances that have taken place in recent centuries, especially in therapies, but perhaps we have moved too fast in other aspects of biologic science. As much as I may admire the development of genetics, I'm not convinced that we'll gain from the cloning of human beings^ix or the ability to design our offspring.^x

There are several driving forces behind the rapid scientific advancement. The wish for fame is certainly one of them,^xi but an important factor is economic. Marginal improvements in unnecessary products are hailed as “game changers.” We wind up with frequent news conferences announcing a larger TV screen, or the latest model of cell phone, pod or pad or computer, indispensable even though we didn't realize we needed it. And the last one goes into a drawer or the attic.

I guess I'm an anterophobe.^xii It's not that I'm against progress, but I need the time to digest one “advancement” before I'm presented with its second, third, or fourth generation. I don't have a cell phone or other electronic device. I'm satisfied with what I have and with peace and quiet. In Greta Garbo's words, “I vant^xiii to be left alone.”^xiv We need to slow down.

Surely my views are not new. They've been the same for generations. I suspect that those who preceded us found the changes that occurred during their lifetimes too rapid. Our music didn't please them and they had trouble keeping up with all that was happening around them, whether in science, politics, or style. Our children and grandchildren will be appalled by the way we live. They won't be able to understand how we could go around without an iPad^® or its equivalent, and our great-grandchildren won't believe there was a time when such conditions existed – even though the particular devices are fossils. But that's the way it is. I can't understand how people lived before there was a reliable refrigerator.

So I'm a retrophiliac. But the more I think about it the happier I am. I'll leave the advances to the advanced, and wallow in my memories. I like nostalgia. Thinking about step one of my treatment has convinced me that I don't want to be “cured.” The world's wrong. I'm right, and I'm convinced that the best thing we can do is to stop the world.

Next episode: “Better Things For Better Living" – On the art of self-improvement .

i      Retrophiliacs Anonymous. Not the Royal Academy, Rifle Association, Rural Americans, Resident Advisors, or the Rabbinical Assembly.

ii      Actually that's as true now as before, but the advertising has become more aggressive, and minor differences are promoted as major improvements – advances that change the industry.

iii    Indeed. There were times when there was little change from century to century. But I'm not that far gone. And I have neither the interest nor ability to be a medieval farmer.

iv     Or, of course, they may be the real thing.

v      Both the flavors and the portion sizes are offensive. I would not be appeased by being served a large dish of something with, for example, cilantro. [Cilantro lovers and other fools should stop hissing.]

vi     It's always loud.

vii    I said it before, but it's worth repeating. Looking back at the previous mention of this idea gives me a feeling of nostalgia and comfort.

viii  More accurately “what things are like.” We have no idea at this time whether “life” exists elsewhere. We may suspect it but there is no adequate proof at this time.

ix     If it hasn't been done already.

x      Ditto.

xi     Sometimes leading to falsification of results. As the wise man once said, even a retraction adds to the length of your resumé. Fame, and employability, are sometimes more closely related to quantity than to quality.

xii    Don't waste your time “googling” it or looking it up on Yahoo! I made it up as the opposite of retrophilia, which does exist. It's not that I fear the future, but I think that our race to it is unwise. I don't think we look enough to the past and to incorporate its lessons before we go hurtling forward and making changes that are ill considered and which impoverish us.

xiii   No disrespect is intended by the use of her accented English. However she pronounced it, she had it right.

xiv    In “Grand Hotel.”