At RWI’s incredible retreat last weekend, Jean Brashear came up from Texas to entertain and educate us. We “knew” each other online, but this was the first time we’d met in person, and she was just the doll I’d expected her to be.
One segment of her all-day workshop (I know we ate too much and too often and took too many bathroom breaks, but I’m still calling it all-day) was on hyperconnectivity. Even if you haven’t heard the word, I’m sure you’ve already guessed what it is. Yep, being too connected via electronic devices.
My son is hyperconnected. We’ll be having dinner, and he’s texting DIL or friends, checking news, looking up stuff. A Christmas or two ago, after a wonderful dinner, the kiddo, DIL, Niece #1, her husband and Niece #2 were sprawled on the sofa and love seat, each of them with their own laptop, each doing their own thing. Me, I hardly answer my cell phone, when I even remember to turn the ringer on. I don’t care so much about email, unless it’s wonderful news or from people I adore. I don’t Twitter, I rarely Facebook, and I’m fairly unsociable about social media.
I’m thinking of starting a name for people like me. “Hyperdisconnectivity” doesn’t quite have the ring I’d like. People Without Phones in Hand? Or People Who Don’t Care What You Do Every Second of the Day? Maybe something simpler: Old-Fashioned.
Yep, that’s me.