Why I Am Not a Naturalist
I am addicted to technology. I will admit it without shame. My
coffee maker wakes me up with the rich aroma of home brewed
sweetness at the precise moment I stumble out of the shower and
my car comforts me at the end of a long day with the
self-adjusting lumbar support and air jets to cool or heat my
feet. I depend on technology to help me through my day. Gadgets,
gizmos and doohickeys decorate my life with an amazing array of
convenience not found in my parents' age. Naturalists want me to
return to a simple way of life but I could not imagine myself in
an era as recent as twenty years ago without the technological
advances that we see today.
The progress that the medical field alone has made in the last
twenty years is amazing. I can now go to the store and buy a
drug that can reduce my swelling, alleviate my pain, and assuage
my fever in two simple, easy-on-the-stomach, gel caplets. I have
received vaccines against childhood diseases such as chicken
pox, measles, mumps and rubella. I have been taught over the
years not to let children eat lead-containing paint chips, not
to use asbestos in my home, or rub alcohol on infants to bring
down a fever. I can perform CPR, the Heimlich maneuver, and
basic first aid. My doctor can see my heart valves with an
ultrasound, diagnose my ailments with an Open MRI, and tell me
that my child does not have Down's Syndrome by using a form of
gene-mapping. Also, if a problem ever arises that requires
surgery, forget the invasive procedures of yesteryear. The
techniques of microsurgery have become so refined and so common
that my father's six-inch scar from his two kidney surgeries
would have been non-existent if performed just ten years later.
My vehicles have become much more posh and luxurious since I
have reached the age where I could own and operate a car. I can
choose from a list of options that include air conditioning,
power windows and locks, power and heated seats, heated mirrors,
and self-tinting rearview mirrors, Global Positioning Systems,
keyless entry, CD/cassette player, TV with a VCR/DVD player, and
even A/C outlets to plug in my portable hair dryer and my
laptop. Also, today's sedan can save my hard earned money by
averaging over 30 miles-per-gallon on the highway even while all
these options are running at full blast. My little portable home
also includes space-age tinted windows that slow the baking
process of the black interior in the hot sun and more nooks and
crannies for storage than my new closet organizer.
Automobile manufacturers are also seeking to ensure my peace of
mind. The 2003 model vehicles are boasting dual front airbags,
canopy airbags that fall from the ceiling upon impact, and more
durable frames with more efficient crumple zones all meant to
guard my family and me against our companion drivers. If an
accident does occur, the OnStar system will automatically notify
the local police and medics of my position while calling the
cell phone of my choice to check on my health and condition.
Also included with OnStar is a roadside assistance service that
will send a handy man to change my flat, free my keys from
inside the locked car, jump start my car after I have left the
light on the vanity mirror on all day, and tell me that my
self-inflicted acts of stupidity are perfectly acceptable as
long as I continue to pay their monthly fee.
Once I arrive home, a plethora of devices await to provide and
enhance my comfort and ensure convenience for my daily
activities. I can stay connected with my cell phone, personal
computer, email, Internet, pager, and my very own Palm Pilot. My
central heating and air keeps the house at a constant 72
degrees. I am never bored while connected to the Internet 24
hours a day and if I do reach the ends of the net, I always have
my Digital Cable TV and a Nintendo 64. My tennis shoes are
engineered to make my jumps higher, my running faster, and my
back hurt less. My dishwasher scrubs even the nastiest dishes
that are caked with microwaved-on food, while my self-scooping
litter box cleans up after my cats.
I try to imagine myself staying at home without the ease that my
toys and appliances bring. I would start my morning by brewing
my coffee in a percolator and watching it to ensure the gas
flame did not burn the bottom of the pot. Once this was
completed, I would go take my lukewarm shower and get dressed in
my freshly starched and ironed clothing. Once I was ready for
work, I would go crank the Chevy and drive it to the gas
station. After it was full, I would head to work fifty miles
away. To complete a hard day at the office, I would massage the
cramps out of my hand so that I could put down the pencil I have
been tallying numbers with all day and walk out to that blasted
Chevrolet. I would have to remember to take off my suit jacket
so that I don't fry in the infernal Atlanta heat and smog on the
way home. Finally, I would get home and pull off my high heels.
I would start boiling the water and turn on the oven so that I
can cook dinner. For the cats, they could live for another day
if I don't scoop their box. Somehow, I am not overcome with
nostalgia and I manage to shake myself out of my daydream.
After all, we do live in an era of convenience. Our tools and
toys help us to achieve goals that a nation of over-achievers
has set for us by giving us more time to work. However, I don't
have to worry about all this convenience making me fat and lazy.
I have an exercise machine to help me avoid that.