Cleaning out digital closets

…the maximum number of meaningful relationships most people can have is somewhere around 150. David Brooks citing Robin Dunbar, March 24, 2022

After doing a thorough weeding job, my Google Contacts list just shrunk from 5700 entries to 96. Whacking so many entries took about a week of on again/off again deleting.

Many of us have found that minimizing our physical possessions brings us, if not joy, at least satisfaction. I’ve done a pretty good job of that, so with the advent of a new phone with a new OS entering my life, I thought minimizing some of my digital stuff was a good idea too. And I started with my contacts.

How does one accumulate 5700 entries in one’s contact list? Well…

• About 2/3rds of them were the school staff email addresses from Mankato schools where I worked from 1991 to 2014. We were a fairly early adopter of Gmail as our institutional email system and somehow my work and personal contact lists were merged. I had a lot of the old @isd77.k12.mn.us domains from before we switched to @isd77.org. I have to admit it was fun going through the names of folks I’ve not thought much about lately. For many accounts, I recognized the name, but could not place the face. But for most, I could remember personal interactions, both positive and negative. I had the old email addresses of our current governor, his wife, and our Department of Education Director on my list. Not that they would have worked any more.

• Another large group of email addresses and other contact information were for people in professional organizations and regional technology groups. I was a very active member of MEMO (now ITEM) locally, as well as ISTE and AASL nationally. Fellow board members, conference planners, and document authors came from all over the US as well as from other countries. I am sure some of these folks I first communicated with during the early days of LM_Net! While I eliminated most of these contacts, assuming my role with professional organizations is pretty much done, I kept the ones who turned out to be not just colleagues, but friends as well. 

• Another surprisingly large number of entries were of folks who arranged for me to speak at conferences or do consulting work in their organizations. I have kept an email folder with missives from most of these events (another clean up project), so I didn’t hesitate wiping these contacts away. Placing faces with names in this category was difficult.

• There were quite a few folks who served as editors of periodicals for which I wrote articles and columns along with book publishers. Whack, whack, whack, I’m afraid.

• Genuine friends and family - all 96 - remained. These are people with whom I want to stay in touch. For whom the relationship was personal, not just professional in some way, shape, or form. I did delete even some friends' contacts when I knew the email addresses were old and that I could contact them via Facebook.

• Finally, I was surprised at how many people in my address book had passed away. As I age, that number will only grow and grow more rapidly. While I am sure there will be email in hell, I’m not so sure about in heaven.

Like tossing an old, but beloved shirt when cleaning out the closet, so many names caused me to pause, remember, and reflect. I recognized some folks as those with whom I was extremely glad I’d never have to interact with again - not many, but a few. 

More often, a name would bring a smile to my face along with the memory of a meeting, a dinner, or a night of collegial revelry. (My bedtime wasn’t always 9pm.) These were folks who believed in me, offered good advice and encouragement, and constructive criticism when needed. They were really the reason why I attended conferences. And who I now miss the most.

My phone feels lighter without the unneeded 5600 or so contacts it once contained. And perhaps my heart feels a bit lighter as well. Spend a few hours weeding you contacts sometime.

New operating system, new pains

In a fit of insanity exacerbated by desperation, I bought a new smartphone this past weekend. What causes me to doubt my intellectual clarity at the time of purchase was choosing a Samsung phone running the Android operating system instead of a familiar iPhone. What was I thinking?

My old iPhone 5SE just flatout died on Friday morning while I was road-tripping to Kansas City to see family. I quickly learned that traveling without a smartphone was, ahem, challenging to say the least. While my friend’s iPhone was working for maps and such and even played nicely with car’s CarPlay, her phone did not fill the void left by my old phone’s demise. So Friday evening, I visited a local TMoble store and accepted the advice of a smarmy salesman and quickly bought the new phone.

I’d been thinking about moving to an Android phone for some time. Although a faithful Apple user for many years (my first computer was an Apple II in 1983), I have been primarily using cheap Chromebooks for the last few years as my main computing device and have been satisfied with their functionality. Apple products seemed to be ever more expensive, I store no data in Apple’s cloud, and well, just maybe, it was time to shake things up cognitively and learn a new system.

An old Apple rep often used the analogy that changing operating systems in technology was like moving into a new house. For the first few days after moving in, one cannot remember where the light switches are, what cabinet the Scotch tape is in, or whether to turn left or right in the hallway to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It made one wonder what one was thinking buying a new house when the old one was so comfortable! It is only after a few days or weeks that the new homeowner starts to appreciate the extra bedroom, the nicer yard, the greater proximity to work, and other benefits of the new abode. And so it is with a new OS. It takes time and familiarity to re-learn where things are, what the new buttons do, and configure the settings to meet one’s personal preferences.

While I can certainly use the new phone, I am still in the “why in the hell didn’t I stick with my old OS” stage. Besides a lot of time-sucking experimentation, downloading old apps and trying to remember passwords, and silently cursing, I’m slowly working my way through the phone’s user manual and a downloaded copy of Android for Dummies. (I could not bring myself to get Smartphones for Seniors.) I am also getting adjusted to the size of the phone - this one is substantially larger than my old SE. I need a longer thumb if I am to operate it one-handedly as I did with my old one.

For many years, I suffered along with those who I supported at work when the school district would change technology systems - new student information systems, new email programs, even new telephone systems. While no change was made for the sheer annoyance of the staff, it usually had that effect. We encouraged training, patience, and acknowledgement of the benefits of new systems. By and large, the folks with whom I worked were good sports and had bigger worries than complaining about a feature now being under a new menu. But some still gave me the stink eye for months, even years, after the forced transition. Or maybe it was for something else.

I will keep plugging away learning my new phone. I am sure I will come to love it as much as I did my old iPhone. But if I seem cranky right now, you know why.

How much house does a person need?

Image source: https://lihi.org/tiny-houses/

His servant picked up the spade and dug a grave long enough for Pahom to lie in, and buried him in it. Six feet from his head to his heels was all he needed. “How much land does a man need?” Tolstoy

Back in the neolithic age when I taught high school literature, one of my favorite stories to have students read and discuss was the one from which the quote above is taken. Easy to read, short, with a slam-bang ending and an obvious moral, it seemed to resonate with even those students whose frontal cortexes were still developing. 

The plot of the story involved a Russian peasant who works and schemes to gain larger and larger plots of land to farm (and control). But no matter how big the acreage and how much profit he makes, he always seems to need more. His final attempt to increase his spread is a deal struck with a nomadic tribe on the Russian steppes - for a set price, he will be given title to as much land as he can walk around over the course of a day. Of course his greed kills him in the end.

I look at homes today compared to the one in which I grew up and often wonder just “how much house does a person need?” The small farm house in which I, a younger sister, and younger brother were raised couldn’t have been more than 1000 square feet. The home had three main floor bedrooms, two very, very small, and one bedroom in a converted attic space. There was a single bathroom with a tub. The unfinished basement had a shower, space for canned goods, and a cream separator. We had an “eat-in”kitchen. As I remember, a hired man occupied one of the bedrooms now and then. 

By today’s standards, such a house would be considered at best a starter home, but more likely than not, a tear-down with the lot re-used to build bigger. Residents of today’s neighborhoods in the Twin Cities complain that huge homes are replacing the modest, classic homes from the early 20th century, thereby destroying the charm of the area. I get it.

Last Sunday’s Star Tribune newspaper featured a house in its Homes and Gardening  section on the Root River near Cannon Falls, a small town about 40 minutes south of the metro. (A modern farmhouse on the river, 3/20/22) At nearly 8700 square feet with 5 bedrooms, 7 bathrooms, and swimming pool with pool house, the place epitomizes why I often ask the question about how much house does a family really need.

I lived in what I would consider a fairly large house for many years. At about 2900 square feet, it had three bedrooms, an office,  two and a half baths, two family rooms, and a great room with a combined living room/dining room. While my son was living at home and when my daughter and her family visited, every inch was used. But most of the time, I only went to the basement to change the litter box or put salt in the water softener.

On retirement, I moved to a much more modest townhome, At 850 square feet, there are two bedrooms, and one bath. No family room. No basement. I use the second bedroom as an office. The one car garage is detached. It is easy to keep clean and warm. I’ve managed to stuff both my son and daughter’s families in it during holidays and my dining room can accommodate 8 place settings. It works for me and costs a fraction of what I was paying to live large.

Yet even I sometimes still feel a bit guilty when driving past tent and shack encampments of people who do not have permanent homes. I am quite sure my home would feel as large to many of them as the “farmhouse on the river” would feel to me. 

The concept of “tiny houses” of less than 400 square feet intrigues me. I suspect it would be a bit like living in a travel trailer or efficiency apartment - both of which I have at one time done. Were we to equally divide all the square feet of living space now built by our total population, I wonder how close to 400 square feet we would come?

Housing, however, is not a zero-sum game. Giving our less well-off folks habitable accommodations doesn’t mean the rich folks can’t have their mansions. But the inequity in this country is embarrassing. 

How much house do you need?