WHAT AM I DOING?

During the Christmas holiday, daughter Anna had a nice, unobtrusive way of taking occasional candid photos of the goings-on. I like this one of me, for a couple of reasons. (One Facebook friend remarked that it would make a good jigsaw puzzle!) But, while taking a second look, it occurred to me that the picture presents a different, rather modern puzzle, which could be titled, “What is he doing?”

It’s not difficult to see that I am holding and looking at my iPhone (ah, the tell-tale Apple logo accomplishes its intended purpose). But what am I doing? This Amazing Techno-Age which we’ve entered allows a surprising number of equally probable guesses, any of which could explain this very photo. I could be:

•      Reading a book on my Kindle app.
•      Reading St. Luke’s Christmas story from my Olive Tree Bible app.
•      Pondering the New York Times crossword on my NY Times Crossword app.
•      Reading the New York Times.
•      Pondering my next move in my ongoing Scrabble game with a friend.
•      Looking up a word on my Oxford English Dictionary app. (Not that I would ever do so to cheat at Scrabble….)
•      Reading an article from The Guardian in my Safari “Save For Later” feature.
•      Reading The Atlantic magazine.
•      Reading the Minneapolis StarTribune.
•      Catching up on my e-mail.
•      Checking the recipe I’m using for tonight’s dinner.
•      Checking the lectionary texts for preaching this coming Sunday.
•      Looking at the calendar I share with Caryl.
•      Looking at an incoming phone call to decide if I should answer.
•      Reading a clever text message from brother-in-law Jeff.
•      Drifting off, after doing any of the above.

For most of the choices above, if I knew how to do it, I could photo-shop an appropriate image to substitute for the iPhone in my hand (book, Bible, magazine, crossword book, etc.), and the game would be over; in fact, there’d be no game. We wouldn’t be asking, “What’s he doing?” But, since the question remains, we are left to wonder not only what it is I might be doing, but what effect such a protean device has on our minds, our lives, and our relationships.

At one level, the smartphone is just another functional delivery system, giving us access to all of the media, information, and entertainment listed above (and you could probably double the list)—with the added convenience of not having to move across the room to a bookshelf, game table, dictionary stand, or mailbox.

But, on another level, if we are honest, I think we find something off-putting about scenes like this. If we are honest, is not our first impression that the subject (me) is rather wrapped up in himself, oblivious to anyone else who might be in the room, and—if in fact there are others in the room—rude? This photo at least allows for such a reaction in a way that a picture of me reading a book or working a folded-paper crossword puzzle would not.

I don’t have a clear answer to the difference between finding an innocent explanation (he’s reading the Bible), or an offended one (put down the phone, jerk!), but it must have something to do with the mystery of the device—since we don’t know what he’s doing, we’re shut out, and left to assume the worst. This is similar to what social-science experiments have found to explain why an overheard cell-phone conversation in a restaurant or airport lounge is so irritating: In addition to the volume of the speaker (often), we are psychologically off-balance because we only hear one side of the conversation—we’re left hanging.

I make it a practice not to be bent over my iPhone in the presence of our grandkids, but on the rare occasions when I am, I have taken to letting them know that I’m reading the newspaper or a book. And, while I still use the Kindle app for convenience at times (in the doctor’s waiting room, for example), I have gone back to actual books for my general reading, primarily because when Sam and Violet see me reading a book, I want them to see me reading a book, and not staring at a screen. (Plus—I love the books!) In her new book, “Reclaiming Conversation,” author Sherry Turkle makes the obvious but important point that the most significant element in our kids’ relationship to these devices is what they see demonstrated by the adults in their lives.

So, what am I doing in Anna’s photo? I am on the Apple Music app, searching for—and about to play—a beautiful song about friendship which Jeff sent me from Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard’s new album. And Anna played some of her songs for me. (We were the only two in the room.) It was a lovely time.

As to photo-shopping: Don’t you think that if I could replace the iPhone in my picture with a floppy leather Bible, it could become a new classic--like that portrait of the old man praying over his supper? I’m going to order up the jigsaw puzzle version. 

SCREEN TIME AND FACE TIME: AN INTERIM REPORT

I just wanted to stand up close,

shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart
with this, my friend. ~Gerhard Frost

Caryl and I recently spent a week with my sisters and their husbands at the  remote mountain cabin we share – our annual work week and “partnership meeting.” Although it is more common for us to use the cabin separately, we get along well and enjoy these times together. At one point during our week my sister Barb made an observation to the effect that “everyone seems to be on some kind of screen.” And she was right: one of us was doing a crossword on an iPhone, another was on the deck trying to get a cell signal, another was reading a book on Kindle, two others playing Scrabble on an iPad. All of this in spite of the fact that, by mutual agreement and technological limitation, we don’t have internet or wi-fi (or TV or radio) at the cabin.

My first response (a bit defensive) was to point out that we were doing the same things we’ve always done when relaxing at the cabin: working crosswords, reading books, playing board games. But upon further reflection, I had to wonder if there wasn’t in fact a kind of qualitative difference. Is it possible that one is more “absorbed” and isolated from others when reading a book on Kindle than when – sitting in the exact same easy chair – reading a bound book? Or is it that the electronic device erects a more off-putting shield than does a tattered-corner paperback book of New York Times Crossword Puzzles? I don’t know; thus my suggestion of an “interim report.”

Electronic screen time may be one of those areas in which we think of ourselves as the exception. Even the most hard-bitten cell phone libertarian who doesn’t want anyone to pry the phone out of his steering wheel-clutching hands tenses up just a bit when he notices another driver approaching with a cell phone to her ear. I think the reason for this is that we all know that when we’re on the cell phone we’re sort of “out of it” – we’re in that phone-zone. But we excuse ourselves, thinking we can handle it, even though we keep a wary eye on anyone else using the phone in the car. Likewise, when Caryl clicks to yet another round of solitaire Scrabble on her iPad, I may mutter internally, “What, another game of Scrabble?!” while I turn back to the neat new Crostics app on my iPhone.

There are historical reports of post-Gutenberg parents complaining that their children were spending too much time with these new-fangled “books,” and fearing the effect it would have on their brains. (The development of book-reading has, in fact, had an evolutionary effect on brain wiring.) Similarly, I take pride in how adroit my three-and-a-half-year-old grandson is with “Angry Birds” (not just his game performance, but the smarts to figure out how the whole thing works),* then I wonder just how long it is “good for him” to play the game in one stretch.  Some sociologists and brain scientists are publishing opinions that decry the effect of computer games, others that herald the technology as brain-enhancing. Interim.

A few weeks ago I joined some friends at a pub where another friend was performing on the small stage. We were never more than a handful of patrons, and at one point there were just two of us in the room when, in a coincidence of timing, my friend was texting his kids – checking in with them for some good parental purpose – and I was glancing at a text that had just vibrated to my attention. Something made me observe this scene from the viewpoint of our friend, the singer: looking out at the bare room, in mid song, he sees two of his friends, both with heads cranked strangely down toward their knees – certainly not looking at him. Having a personal policy against the use of cell-phones in these kinds of situations, we were both making exceptions for ourselves.

And we’ve all witnessed the disturbing scene of an otherwise caring parent bent intently over her device as her two- and three-year-olds scramble over her shoulders, vainly seeking mom’s attention.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer cautions us against that habit of listening “with half an ear,” while we’re actually preparing what we want to say.** (Listening with a switched-on device in our hand cuts that down to about a quarter of an ear – and pretty much wipes out eye contact.)

So I guess I’m musing over two issues here. One is the so-far ill-defined effect that this new technology has on our brains and our society, the other is the old-fashioned question of etiquette. Can we any longer have face-time conversations with our loved ones without our eyes drifting toward the enticing glow emanating from our cupped hand?

Who knows how this will all work out. In the interim, let’s keep talking, eye to eye and heart to heart.

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* It occurs to me that the game “Angry Birds” -- launching cartoon birds at goofy monkeys -- just may be an effective and harmless (?) way for a three-year-old to work out all of that “shooting” that he seems to want to do.

** Bonhoeffer makes this observation in "Life Together," his engaging small treatise on Christian community.