I am reminded of a reality of the reporting life: We think of this as the always-connected age. Indeed, if you'd gone away to Mars eight years ago, and just suddenly been plunked down in any American city small or large, the first texture-of-life difference you'd be amazed by is that people are always staring at little devices in their hands, even when they're otherwise walking, standing in line, (oh no!) driving their cars, or for men (OH NO!!) standing at urinals in the rest room. And on days when you're mainly in your office or at your home, the main challenge can be breaking away from the constant online lure.
I find that it's very, very different on the road, where ideally as a reporter I should spend a lot of my time. What I think of as "working" connectivity involves: (a) having a real keyboard to type with, rather than a tiny smartphone screen on which to hammer out "thx" or "c u soon," (b) ideally having a place to sit (even if it's an airport concourse), so I can type with both hands rather than using one to prop up the computer and pecking at keys with the other, and (c) having a fast-enough connection for a long enough time to see what is going on. By those standards, when I'm not in my office it can still seem to be the rarely-connected era.
Over the past month I've spent a lot of daylight hours either traveling to someplace, in various non-connected circumstances; or interviewing people and touring farms, factories, etc, where my attention is on the people I'm seeing; or being in meetings; or staying in places with shaky online connections. I've spent the past few hours getting to and sitting in the San Diego airport, where the wifi coverage (like most provided across the country by the AWG company, in my experience) goes off and on, and am about to spend the rest of the day and evening aboard an airplane -- which, because it's a United B-737, means it has no wifi. [And where we've just been told there will be a three-hour takeoff delay.][Now back to one-hour.]
I am not in any way complaining; I feel more fortunate by the day to be able to make a living doing what I love. By far the best part of the reporting life is the time when you're out seeing, learning, listening, and being surprised. (The worst part: the actual sitting-down-and-writing.) But while the benefits of the disconnected life are clear -- adventure, discovery, the ability to concentrate on the person or place you're actually encountering rather than with an eye drawn to the electronic simulacrum of life, the simple chance to read or think -- I've noted that the costs of disconnection also seem to mount up. There are so many emails I "mean" to answer, and know that I never will; so many discussions with friends, readers, or critics I unintentionally let wither; so many leads I would like to pursue, from political and aeronautical developments to the Atlas Shrugged Guy. Even a few years ago, you could be away from the internet through a 24-hour cycle and still feel perfectly normal. Not so much today.
Of course this is the General Predicament of life, in slightly updated form -- decades ago, I remember my 10th grade English teacher talking about the pileup of magazines and Book of the Month Club deliveries in her mailbox each week, and how there was so much more she wanted to read than there was time. And of course too it is a better problem to have than the reverse. I mention it now (a) because a multi-week burst of mainly disconnected time has highlighted the tension, and (b) as way-long-winded prelude to a list of items that I had hoped to say something about. And will still try, but in case not:
1) How wonderful it is for the Atlantic, for the reading public, and for Ta-Nehisi Coates and family that he, his wife, and their son are immersing themselves in France and that he is chronicling their experience. And how grateful my wife and I are for their friendship and his generous note.
2) More on Asiana 214 -- including what we know and don't know now, why it is so nutty to hear TV speculation about findings from the "black box" when (in contrast to most crashes) there are three live pilots to discuss what happened, why so many people survived, and what the pattern of injuries for survivors might indicate.
3) The very long talk I need to have with the author of the latest NYT op-ed piece, which begins this way:
ATHENS -- If you drop a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will instantly jump out. But if you heat the water slowly (or so the story goes), the frog will sit there patiently until it boils to death.
4) The very long talk we should all be having with the Republican party's leaders in the Senate, and the Democrats' too, about the very different ways in which they are contributing to a breakdown in governmental functioning. The Republicans, by abusing the filibuster in an unprecedented fashion; the Democrats, by not calling them out more clearly or fighting back more firmly than they have. Read more about one of the many bad consequences here. And the long talk we need to have with the press about stories like this on CNN: "The U.S. Senate voted today against taking up a Democratic measure to temporarily reverse the doubling of some student loan rates, falling short of the 60 votes needed."
Of course, having seen CNN and other cable networks in the hotel these past few days, I realize that we should be grateful for news on any topic whatsoever other than George Zimmerman.
5) Why my wife and I have been at a big meeting in San Diego these past few days, which I can explain; and why Dole apparently has an entire container boat dedicated to the shipment of -- pineapples? bananas? -- between the islands and the mainland, which you see above and which was a surprise to me.
6) Why so much of the angry email I get these days is from Hong Kong. Will try to provide some samples.
Time to board the plane. Thanks to readers, supporters, and even complainers.
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