SEASONS AT DEMETER

By DALE SARGENT/Columnist

Big brother is watching

It’s not so noticeable in summer when the trees block it out. But as autumn comes and the leaves drop, the red eye stares at us from the top of Brushy Mountain. We can see it clearly as we sit on the porch and savor the last few warm evenings before we have to abandon it for the winter. The eye is only red at night. During the day it and its cousins on Rich Mountain and near Exit 58 flash a bright white strobe. Sometimes while hunting, I catch a glimpse of the Bastian strobe and mistake it for the flash of a deer’s ear or squirrel’s tail. The flash takes me by surprise every time even though I see it dozens of times a season.

Cell phone towers with the convenience and connectivity they bring are a relatively new part of the Bland County landscape. Sometimes its hard to remember, but we seemed to muddle through just fine in the decades before they arrived. In the “old” days when the gang showed up for deer season, we had no phone service. During our week in the mountains we were beyond the reach of bosses, friends, family and text messages. We had an evening ritual then. We’d pile in the car after supper and stand in line at the BP station for our turn at the pay phone. There weren’t many private conversations unless it was raining and those waiting chose to sit in the car. On some nights I found out more about a stranger’s life than I wanted to know. Why is it that guys always seem to talk better to their mistresses than their wives? I suppose I could have started a thriving blackmail business.

Of course if a true need arose we could be reached, provided Uncle Darryl was at home and was inclined to carry the message. Many times he rolled out at night or in the worst of weather to let us know we were needed. My uncle is a saint, but is very happy to have given up the messenger role.

Some of the guys bought walkie-talkies to keep in touch while hunting but the reception was spotty in Demeter’s deep hollows. Most abandoned the devices the first time a shot was lost because of a poorly timed hail.

This is not a Luddite’s rant. Reliable cellular service has improved rural life greatly. But I’m struck by the fact that what seemed normal only a decade ago is now seen by some as irresponsible and unacceptable. My buddies carry smart phones and are continually in touch with their jobs. Friends and family feel free to ring them up any time. They no longer have time away. It seems to me that, as a result, they are less refreshed at the end of our week.

When the nightly call from the BP was all that was available our families, friends, and employers got along fine. When problems arose, they were dealt with until we were available. There are few emergencies in business or in life that truly require our immediate attention. Think otherwise and we’re stroking an insecure ego and inflating our importance beyond reality. Most things go OK without us being available to give our instantaneous input.

There is a thin line between technology as a boon and technology as a taskmaster. Have we crossed that line? When did “I have my cell phone on 24-7” become a badge of honor as opposed to a marker of neurosis? When did it become our duty to be instantly available?  When did the tyranny of the urgent replace the time to deal with the truly important? Are we even aware of the Faustian bargain we’ve struck?

It’s not easy to find the right balance. I do have obligations to others especially my family. But one of those obligations is to keep myself physically and emotionally healthy. I need alone time as surely as I need sleep or food. We all do. Heresy or not, my cell phone stays at the cabin when I hunt or take a long walk. We sometime go a day or two without checking voice mail. Our kids and friends understand. I’m convinced our lives are richer as a result. What we occasionally miss doesn’t compare to what we receive.

I’d prefer not to have Big Brother staring down at me from the top of Brushy. I don’t have that choice. Instead, I let the red eye in the sky remind me that we can receive the blessing of technology without becoming its slave.

Dale and Joneen Sargent are stewards of a tract of mountain land, Demeter, in Bland County. Dale can be reached at dsargent522@gmail.com.