We’ve all heard it countless times before: Our generation, and overwhelmingly society as a whole, is far too dependent on all things technology. Just last week, this evident dependency heightened when someone somewhere decided to live stream the moon. The moon. Let me set the context: A full moon that occurs in the month of June is known as a “Strawberry Moon,” a title given by indigenous Algonquin Tribes as a signal for ripening fruit. This year, the strawberry moon occurred on the same day as the summer solstice, which happens only once a generation. Despite its name, the strawberry moon has no pink, red, rose-colored hue but instead appears golden amber. If you happened to neglect looking up or going outside at all and missed this rare occurrence, do not fear. You can check out the footage online. Sure, if you’re an astronomical space buff of some kind and somehow missed news of this uncommon phenomenon, this is an amazing opportunity only the continual advancements of technology can permit. Bravo.
And yet, I can’t overlook the larger generational issue this unintentionally alludes to. There is no doubt that live streaming and recent developments in video recordings are exceptional advancements. We can see sports events being played across the country in real-time, our all-time favorite band performing live across the ocean, and a political rally we may have the utmost interest in taking place on the other side of the world. We can witness foreign cultures first-hand and gather an understanding of planet Earth like never before. The option of clicking to a live stream is even perhaps ideal in order to watch a meteor shower that can only be seen in some remote region of the globe, you aspiring astronomer, you. But, the moon? There are few things in this world that connect us all, the moon being a rare symbol of unity we can look up to as a reminder that we are a part of a whole wide world just like an unknown cousin deep within the Swiss Alps can, too. Now, rather than stepping outside our door and looking up, we can stay seated on our comfy couch and tune in, should we be willing to pause Netflix for just a moment. There is no need for George Bailey to "lasso the moon" because he and Mary can cuddle up in front of the iPad and watch it shine all night long (George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life). Where will it end?
Will we begin live-streaming everything, from daily happenings to life-changing events? So what if you can’t make your niece’s wedding, here’s the link to watch online. Don’t worry about missing the birth of your son; you can virtually hold your wife’s hand while eating Chinese food and flipping between channels to catch the game score. Yes, I do see the technological appeal for an elderly grandmother unable to make the trek to her granddaughter’s graduation, or a family friend across the country hoping with all his might to witness the high school reunion. I also know that these few and far between exceptions will not be the only ones who tune in, and you know it too. When will we power down and restart?
Millennials are too dependent, too obsessed, too involved with iPhones and laptops and Apple watches and anything and everything WiFi-able and wireless. A majority of our population is well aware of this fact, and yet we are doing little to change it. We are often appalled by the continuously decreasing age of kids receiving their first cellphone, disgusted by the lack of young children seen playing imaginatively outside. Just the other day I sat through an entire dinner aside an 11, maybe 12, not yet 13-year old girl craning her neck to play a DS non-stop the whole evening. Her bemused mother looked on, speaking only to the waiter who looked equally as disappointed in what degeneration of a generation he was witnessing. Still, we will never delete our Instagram because we get too excited when the good-looking neighbor down the street throws a #like, nor consider passing up on perusing a good snap-story. And why should we? Unfortunately (and fortunately for some) one cannot aptly function in this day and age without at least attempting to embrace our wireless culture. You don’t want your 13-year-old on Facebook all too often, but if you refuse to let her have one she’ll be automatically outcast by some social circle, maybe a few.
Somewhere down the line our fascination of this once unique means of connection became an insignia of social status and overall existence. When I began college, the typical freshmanly thing to do was of course do your best to meet everyone in your hall. One room a few doors down was still waiting on its second occupant to arrive. Would he show up? The curiosity began not because he just so happened to be the last floor-mate to arrive, but because his worried roommate had no idea what to expect, if anyone at all. He had no Facebook, no Instagram, no accessible Twitter account. He was, presumably, a nobody. Yet, when he finally arrived, he was as kind, as funny, as sociable as the rest of us, unknowingly outcast by his lack of online presence. Be forewarned, if you do not allow your child to choose a pretty profile picture or creatively amusing Twitter handle by at least the age of 14, they will no doubt be presumed a criminal, witness in protection, or nobody at all in the eyes of peers across the nation.
We know this, but we know no resolve. I have no viable suggestions of reducing our dependency, no realistic approaches to solving millennial obsession. In fact, I am pursuing a career that relies heavily on social media and reaching a mass audience through a simple, yet well thought out tweet. Perhaps this is the solution to a formative resolve: there are professional, strategic, useful methods of taking advantage of our ingenious, online advancements. Maybe we all just have to learn them. For now, happy live streaming and idle viewing. Just remember, every once in a while, look up at the sky.
I’m really not kidding about the moon, it’s actually pretty cool. Take a look.
