Analog Man

            I am an analog man. It’s not that I don’t have digital devices, I do. And a couple of them are quality products and actually are improvements over their predecessors. My word processor is infinitely better than my old typewriter. Although digital cameras are expensive, they don’t begin to match the cost of rolls and rolls of film, contact sheets, printing paper and chemicals. And it’s a heck of a lot easier to put music onto an MP3 player or even cd than it was to tangle with reel to reel tape recorders or their descendants. But some things I just like analog.

            To be honest, I don’t really mean just analog/digital. There are things that I call digital that aren’t really digital, they’re just the newfangled item. To be clear, I am not a Neo-Luddite, although I do love that term. In most cases, it’s not that I object to the “digital” version, it’s just that for one reason or another, I prefer the old way.

            I do have a cell phone, although some people unkindly make fun of it. I use it strictly to make and take telephone calls. I understand it is able to send and receive texts, but if so, that is unknown to me. Now I do use email all the time and have discovered that I can send and receive texts on my computer. But my phone is, to me, a device to communicate when needed, not on a whim.

            I have a snow blower (here’s an example of my non-digital use of the digital idea). If there’s a big event and we get a couple feet of snow I might use it. Or if I have to get the car out first thing in the morning. Otherwise, I really prefer the old snow shovel. The machine is quick, but it’s so damn noisy and I have to pay attention all the time- this lever, that lever, adjust the spray nozzle or whatever it’s called (oh yeah, a chute), don’t step out into the road, etc. With a snow shovel I feel a little bit of accomplishment for clearing the driveway. Plus, I get a little exercise in the bargain. If you dress properly for the job, a winter’s morning can actually be a pleasant time. It’s usually quiet, with the snow dampening the usual hubbub of modern life. If it’s still snowing it’s worthwhile to notice the particular charm of living here in all seasons. If you don’t think there’s any charm to it, why do you live here? It’s slow work, I’ll admit but I take that into consideration. I find I can live without tv or Facebook for an hour or two without too much harm.

            To keep track of things, I’ve always liked a calendar and a clipboard. If I’m at home all I have to do is walk to my calendar, I don’t need to load up anything. If I’m not at home, well, I often find it useful to be able to say “I don’t have my calendar with me, I’ll have to get back to you after I check at home.” This may or may not be precisely true, but it can be handy in a pinch. On the clipboard I usually have a list. Sometimes, it’s more accurately a list of lists but you know what I mean. As I accomplish the entailed tasks, I cross them out. This acts as a source of great encouragement to me. If the only items left are completely unsavory, I can always flip through the other pages on the clipboard. At best I’ll find something I’m willing to attempt, at worst I give the impression of an engaged task manager.

            GPSs are fun. I’ve even seen some people get where they wanted to using one. I’ve also seen people get seriously lost using them. Even people I know, who should know how to navigate in the area where they got lost. I don’t have one. When I need to go somewhere, I look at a map. I’ve always loved maps. Now I know not everybody does. It’s usually easy to tell a “map person” from “not so much a map person.” The clue is usually in the way they hold the map. Map Persons hold the map the same no matter what direction they are going. They can sort of visualize themselves travelling on those little lines and adjust the right or left turns accordingly. Not So Much Map Persons have a tendency to turn the map to try to make it fit the direction they are currently going. I’m not going to go into it all, but that way lies only madness and heartbreak. If, for unexpected reasons, the map fails me (or to be honest, vice versa) I rely on what my Dad called “dead reckoning.” This involves thinking calmly about your current location as best you understand it to be and its relation direction-wise to where you want to be (I mean this in a temporary sense, more a in-the-moment desire than say, Hawaii or Aspen). Then you use the available road situation to get you started in the right direction. You’d be surprised how well this works; we often over complicate our travel.

            Interestingly, I’ve seen some scientific studies showing variance in brain activity patterns between people who typically use GPS and those who don’t. I’m not going to make a judgment on this, it’s just interesting. They found the most extreme differences in London cabbies. Apparently, they have to pass a licensing test which includes rather extensive recall and visualization of the complex London traffic system.

            The last thing I want to talk about are digital instrument tuners. I play guitar, which I realize puts me rather low on the evolutionary scale of musicians. In the past we would tune by finding a note we had some faith in. A tuning fork would work, but we were more likely to have a harmonica. If there was a piano player, well since it was impracticable to retune that beast, we’d just tune to the piano, or really, to just get one note from the piano. We’d then use one of any number of methods to tune our instrument based on that note we were faithing. These days you see all manner of musicians using electronic tuners, often that simply clip to the instrument. Not so much with the classical gang, but with garage band goofs like me they’re everywhere. I use one too. What I really get a kick out of though, is that after using these precise, electronic ears, most musicians then tweak their instrument via their original equipment (ears) to suit their personal auditory desires. I’m not sure music is really meant for that level of precision. One of Bach’s most famous pieces is the Well-Tempered Clavier. “Temper” doesn’t refer to the clavier’s (a precursor of the piano) crankiness (well come to think of it, maybe it does) but rather a system for tuning the damn things, impossible to get “perfectly” tuned. Bach wanted something that would work, not necessarily be perfect. Kind of like the old saw, “close enough for jazz.”