I’ve recently completed reading the series of books about Lyndon Johnson by Robert Caro.  Born and raised in the hill country of West Texas, Lyndon Johnson went on to become President of the United States.  But when he was a boy, if his family needed hot water, someone had to take a bucket down to the nearby river, carry the water back to the house, go back out to chop some wood, bring that back to the house, load the wood into the woodstove, light it on fire, then wait for the water to heat. Sounds like a major expenditure of time and effort.

In other words, it used to be a lot of work to take a bath.

What do most people in the United States do today?  Simply turn the spigot and adjust the temperature.  Viola!

By introducing greater efficiency (thanks to engineering and technology and the miracle of modern plumbing) we minimize our personal effort and enjoy the benefits of hot water without even thinking about it.

Most of us reject unnecessary effort. On a trip from Los Angeles to San Francisco we do not customarily add a detour to Detroit. We value the use of our time and energy, because both are limited.

Greater efficiency offers the possibility of a greater return on our time and effort. That’s why, for example, the Federal Government has mandated increasing gas mileage for automobiles. They simply want to squeeze the greatest return from the investment in fuel. And perhaps that will have the added benefit of reducing greenhouse gases.

Now, we find ourselves at a particularly interesting juncture in our civilization. With the development of AI, there are opportunities to streamline many of the “executive” and creative tasks typically carried out by humans. Such as writing a blog. But at what cost? What happens when efficiency overrides creativity and the human touch? What happens when we don’t have to “think” anymore to solve problems because a computer will do it for us. Maybe, as with the gathering of water from the river, we’ll be able to use that time to do something more creative and be even more productive. I hope so.

But in the interest of being efficient myself, I think I’ve made the point, and see no value in my saying more about that subject at this time. I assure you, this blog was written entirely by a human.

Alan

During the past several years Daveen and I have continually had one or another of our adult daughters living with us (which has truly been a pleasure). But today we are living only with each other. Huzzah!

As they say, the silence is deafening. And I mean that in a good way.

In the evenings we often lie next to each other, relaxing in bed, either reading or responding to emails on our cell phones. While Daveen completes her Wordle of the day, I brush up on my Solitaire skills (which has filled many hours in my life), before we get back to cuddling.

I remember the first moment when I was impressed by the explosion of cell phone ownership and its ubiquitous place in our lives. That was an evening more than thirty years ago. We were enjoying dinner with another couple. I noticed that every one of us had placed our cell phones on the table where we could see them. This was not for show. It was in case we received a call.

I know this will further date me, but I remember my own first “cell phone”. It was as heavy as a five-hundred-page book, and I needed a briefcase to carry it around. Now it easily fits in my pocket and I can actually talk to someone – thanks, Dick Tracy – on my watch.

Years ago, I heard a story that has stayed with me (although it might be an urban legend). In the late 1800’s when the head of the United States Patent Office resigned, he purportedly said “everything that can be invented has been invented.” Little did he know. I sometimes wonder what Leonardo de Vinci would think if he were here and was able to fly on an airplane or a helicopter or talk to a friend on the other side of the world.

I wonder what new inventions will come along in the next twenty years. I don’t think everything has been invented yet.

Okay, Simon and Garfunkel. Keep singing.

Alan

Last weekend our daughter and three-year-old granddaughter, both of whom had been living with us for the past year and a half, moved into a place of their own.

It’s so quiet around our house now.

I virtually never miss people, and I’m not particularly a dog person, but when they moved out, they took with them Oscar, their eleven-year-old dog.

I’ve never told this to a soul, but I used to have imaginary conversations with Oscar, largely around that fact that there we were two older guys just enjoying our final days together.  I like to believe he understood.  Isn’t that what life is about – connection?  Our connection to the world, to each other, to our homes, and our pets.

Last year one of my sons said to me, “You know, Dad, if we continue to see each other once a month over the next 15 years that will be about 200 visits for the rest of our lives.”

Whoa!  But ultimately, those are the limitations we all face.

This is the best reason to make the most of each and every day, because the number of days we each have is finite.

After all, if we’re lucky enough to live for 100 years, we still only have 36,500 days to spend together, to love and be loved – and to make the most of our time.

Good bye Oscar. I’ll miss our chats.

Alan