My mom’s forty-eighth birthday was not an overt occasion. It was a small party: my family of 4, my Nana, and my Grampie, who was arriving late from a real-estate convention. The atmosphere was soft and quiet. We settled into that comfortable cushion as we ate around the dining room table. We laughed and talked, reminisced about days past. My brother, Brian, finished first. He sat listening, fidgeting, as Mom, Dad, Nana and I talked about whether Nana and Grampie should lease or buy a new car. Slowly, Brian got up to clear his plate. Our attention shifted momentarily to his movement, then returned to Nana as she listed the parts of Grampie’s station wagon that needed to be replaced. We moved from topic to topic of discussion, our tones growing quieter and quieter as the sky outside faded to black. A blue glow from the kitchen caught my attention. My brother had logged on to my mom’s computer and was tapping away at the keyboard. Minecraft, probably. He muttered something to himself, something about loading. I sighed. I was the only kid at the dining room table now. But at sixteen, not anymore, really. I sidled out of my chair and walked past Brian to get a blanket from the living room. He did not look up as I passed by. I grabbed a plaid fleece blanket from the couch and wrapped it around my shoulders. As I moved towards the dining room again, I whispered to Brian, “Do you want to play a game?”
I was surprised at the sound of my voice. So softspoken and innocent, like a small child asking for a story. “Um, hold on, I just gotta build this.” “Okay.” I stood by the computer for a bit, waiting. Then I sighed and returned, hopes dashed, to the adult conversation in the dining room. I knew that “hold ons” were usually “nos” anyway. __________ There used to be a time when “no” was“yes” when “hold on” was “I’m on my way”. It was a warm summer evening, almost ten years ago now. Brian toddled into my room, his head barely surpassing the footboard of my bed. Rounding the corner of my bed, he lifted his chubby little arms and pulled himself up onto my comforter. He was clutching a board book in the shape of a clownfish, and his small face was flushed with excitement. “Can you read to me, Jennie?” I smiled. Brian had just turned two, and I still felt warm and fuzzy every time I looked into his big blue eyes. We read story after story that night. The wood and glass clock on my wall lost its importance. We had pulled my covers over our legs, cuddling together for warmth against the blast of the air conditioning. I was hunched over so my head was at Brian’s level. He leaned into my shoulder, eyes following my finger as I pointed to the bright pictures of fish swimming across the page. My preschool reading ability didn’t matter to him. Reading together took us on a journey with the fish as it swam through the ocean. A bright flash came from my doorway. Mom had poked her torso in through the crack, and was moving to hide a disposable Kodak behind her frame. She was quiet for a moment, then whispered, “Brian, time for bed.” He gave Mom a reluctant pout, then wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a hug, his fingertips barely touching. “Goodnight sister!” “Good night, Brian,” I said. He carefully climbed down from my bed and toddled out of the room after Mom. _________ Brian and I spent a lot of time together growing up. Our favorite thing to play was a game we had invented with our dad. Brian and I would stand at one end of the living room. Dad would tell us to lift our right leg, cross our arms behind our back, wiggle our eyebrows, any combination of weird motions. Then Brian and I had to race across the living room, maintaining our funny stances. We would collapse onto the couch at the other end of the living room, laughing until we couldn’t breathe. When I became a middle-schooler, things changed. I suddenly didn’t have as much time to play. I had dance lessons to go to, playdates with friends, or homework to do. My “yeses” became “laters” and my “laters” became “nos”. My Mom became the treasurer for our church, then for Brian’s Cub Scout pack. My dad switched jobs and assumed a directive role. Their “yeses” also became “nos”. We maintained Friday night as family night, but the other days of the week were consumed with “to dos” and places to go. And Brian got stuck in the middle. Then, during my eighth grade year, I developed serious health issues. Now Mom and I were spending many of our waking hours going to and from my various doctor’s appointments. Brian continued to be stuck in the middle, as Nana had to take over for mom. Around the same time, the computer game Minecraft came out. Brian, an ingenious Lego builder, wanted to see his ideas come to life digitally, so my parents let him install the game on our home computer, provided he stuck to a time limit. But with the amount of time the rest of us were away, he didn’t have anyone to answer to. He would get really upset when Mom and I came home from long doctor’s appointments because that meant no more Minecraft. Because he played it so much, he began to see it as his only source of fun, and considered time without Minecraft to be “boring”. He became almost addicted to the game, and would even bring Mom’s laptop into the kitchen during his breakfast to watch Youtube videos about the game so he could improve his “crafting” skills. My parents allowed him to do so because it kept him preoccupied during hectic school mornings. Brian also began to inherit technology devices from older cousins. He could now play Minecraft, or really any game, on a Kindle, Wii, my mom’s laptop or the Chrome-book he got from school. He carved out other parts of the day to use this technology, especially on weekends, and would become enraged if anyone tried to disrupt them. It has put a strain on his relationship with my mom, and anytime they argue it’s about technology. Brian has been a lot busier since entering middle school, and isn’t as obsessed with gaming as he used to be, but it’s still hard to pull him away from those devices in a moment of downtime. “I’m not a little kid anymore,” he tells my frustrated parents. “You can’t control my life.” As much as I outwardly blame him for it, I don’t necessarily see Brian’s rampant use of technology as “his problem”. I don’t see it that way for the rest of society either. Yes, there comes a point when we are unaware of how much we rely on technology, but there’s a reason we use it at the rate we do. In science, there are various laws of conservation that state there is a set amount of everything in the universe. Similarly, humans have habits or routines they don’t like to deviate from because those habits and routines provide a sense of security. When our routines are compromised beyond our control, we change them to maintain our own sense of security. The part of Brian’s “routine” that was significantly altered was time spent with family. Mommy time. Daddy time. Sister time. The more the three of us got caught up in our own lives, the less family time Brian got. So he replaced it with something that was enjoyable and always available: technology. Technology is labeled as an evil that takes the place of social interaction. But if we were created to enjoy companionship and have positive social interaction in our lives, why would we want to replace them with technology? There must be something lacking before it is replaced. Some part of our social world must have been disturbed if we felt the need to replace it. __________ As I rejoined the party at the dining room table, I could hear my mom and Nana talking about the Thanksgiving supper our church would be hosting the following week. I cast a longing glance at Brian. If I hadn’t been as busy in middle school, hadn’t developed health problems, hadn’t said “no” so many times, would Brian be sitting next to be right now? Part of me said, “You can’t blame yourself for that. Life happens.” But there was another part of me that was determined to change the status quo. I am sixteen, I thought. I’ll only be at home for so long. I want to enjoy time with Brian while I can. I won’t take no for an answer. I heard Grampie coming up the front steps. “Brian, get off the computer. Grampie’s here!" “Okay, I’m coming!” By: Jennie O'Leary -Staff Writer |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
June 2019
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