When it's no longer necessary to speak

The Queens, New York neighborhood that I grew up in during the sixties, easily numbered between 50 and 60 kids. We were an adolescent melting pot consisting of Italians, Germans, Irish, English and Africans. Most of us were second or third generation, and we all spoke English. When we weren’t in school, or confined by inclement weather, we were outside because that’s where everything happened. It would not be uncommon to see thirty kids playing tag or stick ball. We would discuss amongst ourselves all the topics of importance: who had the most baseball cards? Who received a new bike for their birthday? Who knew anything about the birds and the bees? Who wanted to be what when they grew up? Our mothers would stand on their porches and call out for us at dinner time, and after literally inhaling our food, we’d practically tear the screen door off its hinges trying to get back to our friends. The only delay would be the obligatory questions from our parents in regards to our day. Outside, we’d play various games until dark until our numbers started to dwindle as our mothers would once again emerge, yell and depart.
No one feared the outside world. If a stranger ever wandered down our street looking for trouble, a child to prey on, he was met by an undivided front, fearless in the protection of one of its own. If all of our collective parents didn’t know each other by name, you can bet they knew the names of every kid from our block. We were a community. If somebody fell ill, or got caught up in drugs, or was in a family crisis, we cared. There were no secrets. We’d never think twice about gathering at someone’s home to offer our help. We held block parties, birthday parties and sleepovers. Our mothers played cards with each other on Wednesday nights and volunteered their time to be den mothers when we became cub scouts. At night, in our homes, we’d watch television together, laugh together, talk to each other.
Fast forward to today. Seldom do you see children playing outside. A child will spend hours alone with a “Game Boy” or “X-Box” or a “Wii.” And those are not exclusively for children. Adults will not hesitate to do the same. A lot of teenagers have discovered “online gaming,” where many of them can log on to a game screen and using a microphone and an assumed name, can communicate with each other while gunning down various antagonists. All while safely alone in their rooms. I can’t speak for anyone else, but the whole concept just creeps me out.
Today we have Facebook and Myspace where kids and adults volunteer personal information about themselves while silently waiting for someone to come along, notice them and then start to “chat,” letting their keyboards do all the work. The days of, “Tell so and so that I like them,” are gone. So are formal introductions. And then there’s email, which has practically replaced the telephone and the spoken word as the new means of communication. No longer do you have to look someone in the eye and tell them they’re fired. Or, you don’t love them anymore. Or, a loved one has died. You can safely hide behind your keyboard, express any thought or emotion, and never say a word. Today, a conversation between two people using their mouths and ears is almost as outdated as a cassette tape.
How did we ever survive without a cell phone? A marvel of our time. The freedom to talk to virtually anyone, anywhere at anytime and how have we, as thinking mammals with functioning voice boxes exploited its versatility? By “text messaging” each other. Genius! Again, we can sidestep the intimate quality of the human voice and read our messages instead.
There are countless numbers of websites that help you find friends, lovers and trysts. No longer do you have to wash up, dress up, and mosey on down to the local bar, supermarket, bookstore, church, or restaurant to meet someone new. Your keystrokes will break the ice and you can pour your heart out to cyberspace. Granted, for those amongst us who are painfully shy this is a godsend, but there is no substitute for the excitement you feel when you are face to face with someone new, look them in the eye and say, “It’s really nice to meet you!”
My opinion is that the modernized human race is slowly evolving into a species that will eventually come full circle. Thousands of years ago we started out as individuals living in caves with no formal means of verbal communication. Slowly, over time, we learned to speak common sounds that would translate into language. From there we taught each other, shared ideas, and connected with each other. We became a community. But the gameboy and online gaming and dating sites and personal sites and emails and text messaging require little to no oral communication. We can isolate ourselves and not have to speak to each other. All sense of community will be lost. We will revert back to what we were: alone, in our caves typing away as our keyboards do all the talking. I can see it now: I’m ninety, in a nursing home and I’m trying to get an attendant’s attention. My bedpan needs to be emptied, but keyboard is useless because, just my luck, I have arthritic fingers. People, talk to each other!

* Used with permission by The Next 50.