I have always been a book nerd. I love writing. I love to write. I love to read writing. I basically love words. If I had my way all math would be spelled out in words. It would make much more sense to me. And no letters and numbers mixed please.
Loving words, it is also a given that I enjoy communication. There can be no writer who does not enjoy the art of communication because that is what writing is. Even if one writes a journal to be tucked away in a back drawer for nobody else to read, that person is still communicating with themselves. Which is very important thing we should do.
This topic came to mind the other day when I was at a McDonalds (not in Franklinton) with my two grandsons, who are four and five years old. I was taking them to play on the gym set.
Unfortunately, when I walked up to the counter to order, the lady simply pointed to a structure in the middle of the room. She literally said nothing. She just pointed.
So, I walked over to the tall screen and began poking around on it, trying to figure out how on earth I was going to get the ten nuggets we wanted and the chicken wrap and the diet coke and the two waters. I instantly felt extremely unintelligent as I kept having to start over until a young guy started giving me pointers on how to place the order I needed to somehow convey to the warm human bodies just behind that front counter. You know, the people I could have told my order to in three minutes or less.
By the time I had settled on the order, which was not what I was planning to order but I found that hitting the happy meals was easier, I had spent twice the amount of money I had planned and then was in search of where to put my money. There was no place to put my money, and I was insistent that I would not use a credit card to buy fast food.
So, by now a new person was working on the screen next to me. And this girl told me what to tap so I could then walk up to the counter and hand them my money. You know, the people I could not speak to in ordering my food.
As I silently approached the counter, I felt like I was in some strange movie. The counter lady didn't even make eye contact with me as I handed her my money, so I had to blurt out, "How are you doing today?"
It came out a bit louder than I expected, causing her to flinch and look up. She said, "Good," without a smile. And then she quickly looked down again. An old man sat in the corner chowing on a large burger, and a young girl was in the opposite corner nibbling on French fries before she clocked in for work.
The boys rambled loudly all through the play set with another young boy and girl giggling and shouting. They pretended to be characters from Star Wars and then Mine Craft. They shot over and grabbed a fry then ran while they chewed. The four talked together to decide where base would be while they played chase.
And a part of me wondered if this art of communication would continue to be lost in a world of tapping screens and ordering online, a world of texting and emailing, plastering our best selves on social media, and calling in prescriptions to pick up at drive through windows.
Will our world continue to shrink in communication as it expands globally in contact? Will the art of eye contact and good conversation dissolve into efficiency? Will words one day just disappear, taking with them the art of emotion, empathy, and understanding? In that moment I was so happy my grandsons were playfully enjoying a moment where that frightening thought had not yet arrived
