Return to Walden Pond

Site of Thoreau's cabin -- Picture courtesy Wikipedia

by blogSpotter
My grandmother died at 93, about three years ago. She had a long, wonderful life -- spent most of her childhood in towns like Lorena and Bruceville, near Waco, Texas. She grew up on a farm, with three sisters and two brothers. I asked her how she remembered her early life -- did she enjoy it? Without hesitation she said it was a fantastic childhood. She remembers brushing her teeth with baking soda and salt, and making fruit preserves with her mother. She and her siblings rode to school on a hay wagon. Cars had been around a while, but only county judges and doctors could afford them -- the 'common folk' still used horses and buggies. Her older sister Doris was the first in the family to drive or get a driver's license. It was all so new-fangled at the time. Grandma Thedford had nary a bad memory about the whole experience: "I probably ate better than I do now, and had a beautiful childhood".

I decided to go back even further in time. Thought to myself, "If I, Robert, had been born in 1807 instead of 19?7, how would I have faired?” I'm not a strong man (then or now) so I wouldn't be nailing railroad ties or hauling bags of grain. Envision that I'd live on an eastern seaboard city with gentle breezes and cool summers. Air conditioning wouldn't come along for 100+ years, so you need the cool summers. Probably I'd live somewhere like Washington, Boston, maybe Charleston if it didn't get too hot. I probably would've had at least some high school education (cipherin' as they say on Beverly Hillbillies) and maybe some business training -- would probably work as a clerk or book keeper for a bank.

They didn't have sprawling apartment complexes back then, and a bank clerk probably couldn't afford a house. I probably would've had a room at a rooming house where a "house mother" might provide meals and even do laundry for a fee. I'd have a simple room w/ bed, desk, chair and maybe a wardrobe closet for my meager clothing. There would be a "chamber pot" and commode basin -- let's not go into that. I'd have oil lamps for lighting, and maybe a Franklin stove for winter warmth. In place of widescreen TV, iPod and stereo I would have a bookshelf with classics of the time. That would be my 'home entertainment system'. Options if I wanted to listen to music: A piano in the rooming house common area, a weekly visit to church, and of course -- dance halls and saloons. (Some things never change).

On the whole, it doesn’t sound that terrible. In fact my grandmother may be on to something. Here are three ways in which days of yore were better:

Organic Diet
In 1856, they didn't have monosodium glutinate or dipotassium phosphate. Maybe a chemist at Harvard had that, but not Nestles or General Foods. For that matter, there probably weren't many packaged food companies, and few to which 'common folk' had access. You would be stuck with roast chicken, fresh vegetables, homemade bread, fresh eggs and milk. Maybe an apple pie here and there. It wasn't necessarily a skinny diet, but it was comparatively organic and healthy.

Low Stress
Up until the mid-1980's, I didn't have to take my job home with me. Then we added pagers where I could be beeped at anytime. Now we have iPaqs, Blackberries and notebook computers with universal wireless access. Your office follows you like a shadow. You could be at the South Pole, and still expected to dial in and check emails. There is no moment, no matter how sacred or sacrosanct that some type of beeper can't interrupt. I like quiet contemplation. To me, the office-in-your-backpack is life ending in its awful implications. We used to laugh at the concept of "company man" -- a man who lives his whole life for his company. Nothing ensnares us more than all this connective technology. We're company men now more than we ever were. The technology that was supposed to free us has turned us into workaholic 'bots.

Human Companionship
There's a flip side to affluence. Now, we can all afford spacious, private homes. If anyone such as a spouse annoys us, we can divorce them or at least bannish them to another room. So here we sit in our lonely, expansive 2000 square foot domiciles. We have iPod, iPhone, plasma TV, 500 channel cable, PS2, etc. We have every toy imaginable. We can stay preoccupied for hours with a joy stick or a remote control. The Robert of 1857 would have to have dinner with other rooming house tenants. The Robert of 2007 eats Le Menu alone, while talking to a calico cat and watching CNN on a big screen TV. The Robert of 1857 would gather with others to listen to "Turkey in the Straw" or church hymns. The Robert of 2007 gets deaf listening to iPods ad infinitum. Even in pairs, we isolate -- me in the computer room and you on the headphones. Again, technology gives us a Midas curse -- a terrible consequence from something that started out with such good intentions.

Yeah -- those olden days were terrible. All that low-stress, good diet, human companionship would've gotten me down. I'm not yet Amish or Luddite -- I'm not forsaking the convenience we've acquired over the years. But maybe with some perspective, the Robert of 2007 can go back to Walden Pond now and again. David Thoreau sought isolation at Walden Pond from what he thought was intrusive modernity. Mr. Thoreau -- just give me back some of your 1850's modernity. The olden days weren't so terribly bad after all.

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