Nothing more dramatically underscores the changes in the way we communicate with each other in this era than going through the ritual known as “downsizing.” The Connecticut homestead my wife and I live in has been in her family for five generations, and the time has finally come to plunge into the cabinets, trunks, and closets throughout the rambling old house to decide what letters, diaries, memorabilia and photographs are worth preserving (a good deal) and what can be, there is no polite way to say it, tossed.
One file drawer in the garage apparently unopened for decades turned up a carefully maintained collection of my late father-in-law’s letters to his parents from his service as a navigator in the 7th Army Air Corps as the war raged in the Pacific; a cache definitely worth keeping. A front-page photograph in the Greenwich Time of April 13, 1944, showed Capt. Albert W. Sherer receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross “for heroism or extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight.” That medal (among others) turned up in a dresser and was presented to Captain Sherer’s great-grandsons at Christmas.
Consider the emotional effect and enduring value of spending days with these tangible and largely irreplaceable artifacts of the past⎯compared to the maintenance of today’s digital archives, mainly emails (or, more recently, Facebook entries) that are in computerized folders or, for protection, in the cloud.
In his New York Times column “Disruptions” this week, Nick Bilton wrote with satisfaction of disposing of 46,315 unread emails (more than likely most were business related) to clear his figurative desk at the start of the year. Bilton’s point is that long-distance communications are now so routine and essentially free that we are overwhelmed by them.
Sure, old fashioned letters are nice. But few of us need paper and postage stamps for correspondence. . . . And we certainly don’t have to travel⎯next door or around the world to communicate with someone. Email, messaging on social networks and even text messages . . . cost nothing more than the devices in our hands. As a result we are deluged by messages. There is no escape: Email is probably the most invasive form of communication yet devised.
Moreover, clear limitations on privacy and the tendency for emails to be written in short bursts diminishes their thoughtfulness. That is what makes them so disposable and why years from now, the pleasures, surprises and poignancy of delving into old correspondence is unlikely to provide the impact of what we found stashed in so many places around our house.