Guglielmo Marconi and gas pumps that talk

Back in 1895 when Guglielmo Marconi invented the wireless telegraph, to be followed by the radio, no one could have predicted the way we receive messages today. Or the deluge that invades our every waking hour.

I was thinking about this today when my cell phone dinged, indicating a new text had arrived. It wasn’t from my wife, but from Staples, asking me how my experience was with my latest purchase, two reams of paper for my inkjet printer.

Give me a break, I thought. It’s paper. I bought it. I put it in my printer. And btw, stop sending me these ridiculous messages.

I was getting irritated. When I turned on my computer that morning, I had 67 emails waiting for me, all but two of them ads from stores, desperate appeals from politicians, or charities with heartbreaking stories.

Don’t get me wrong. There are charities I support, a few with monthly donations. And there are political causes, some I may have sent ten dollars to at some point in my life. But enough is enough.

Then there are the warning messages, the scammers, who threaten to cancel your Medicare or Social Security unless, or to disable your computer unless, and so on.

How much time must I spend deleting messages, or scrolling down to find the small print “unsubscribe” at the bottom of the page, or putting sales or crank calls on the phone block list?

It seems that everyone and everything is talking to us now, whether we want to hear them or not. No moment in time and space goes unfilled. Yesterday as I stood at the gas pump, I was expecting to have a few seconds of peace. I had entered my credit card, made my gas selection, inserted the nozzle in the tank and notched the little clip that enables me to relax my grip, when all of a sudden, the gas pump started blaring from a miniature TV screen and speaker.

Marconi’s invention and all that has followed is a mixed blessing. First came AM radio, then FM. Homes throughout America could listen to music in their living rooms. In his Fireside Chats, Franklin Roosevelt helped our grandparents make sense of the stock market crash, and what the government was doing to counter the ravages of the Depression.

I wonder what they would have thought about the use of social media today not only to connect with friends and family, but to spread fear and misinformation.

When radio was first reaching rural America, and families that could afford it were purchasing large wood-cabinet radios with knob dials—Zeniths or Philcos—a news reporter asked an old farmer what he thought about this amazing invention. He replied: “Well, to be honest, I don’t care much for furniture that talks.”

Perhaps I’m becoming jaded by the overwhelming messages flooding us today, but I think I know what he meant. Still, as the holiday rush is subsiding, in this peaceful lull between Christmas and New Year’s, perhaps it’s time to tune our ears to another frequency. One that all too often gets drowned out. The message of peace on earth and good will among men.