The world has changed. Here is one way that I know it has changed. We are parked at a lovely Washington State Park on the edge of Padilla Bay with a view of Fildalgo Island and other islands of the San Juans. The campground is in a heritage forest with Douglas Fir trees that are over 100 feet tall. It is quiet and a good place to be with our grandchildren. I just took out my laptop to write and it has detected more than a dozen wi-fi hot spots. There is no public Internet here in the park. One of those private networks might be at the campground office for official use. The rest of them are most likely other campers in the sites around us. Many of them are connected through Starlink, a satellite service. For a monthly subscription fee and the purchase of equipment, a user can connect to the Internet virtually anywhere. I know people who have installed Starlink on boats, in cars, and one person who has a Starlink antenna installed in an experimental two-seat airplane.

I use the Internet a lot. I publish daily. However, I haven’t yet been tempted to subscribe to Starlink for a couple of reasons. The first is that I can access the Internet through the cell phone network, and I don’t often go places where there is no cell phone service these days. When I finish writing this essay, I will publish it using my cellphone hotspot.
Furthermore, my cellphone is now able to connect to the Internet over the Starlink network in areas without regular cellphone service. I haven’t tested the satellite properties of my phone yet, as the service is new and I haven’t been in a place without service. The service I have is designed for emergency text messages and data downloads. I don’t think it would work to upload an essay, but it is probably only a matter of time before I can connect to the Internet anywhere I travel.

I greet this changing world with a bit of caution. Newness isn’t always progress. Thirty years ago, I was a bit reluctant to obtain my first cell phone. I enjoyed he privacy of a car trip without phone service. My car was a place where I could get away from some of the pressures and stresses of everyday life. When people couldn’t reach me, they could leave a message and I would get back to them. I rarely was in a place where I couldn’t access my voicemail for more than a day or so. However, once I got my first cell phone, I quickly became an eager user, carrying my phone with me anywhere I went. Others who worked at the church were able to contact me when I was working away from the office. Calls could be transferred from the office system directly to my cell phone. I could call in to advise the office of changes in plans and other concerns. I could contact church members before I visited.

With access to the Internet, I remain connected to my home even when I am not present. My dishwasher sends me a notification through an application when it finishes a cycle. I can check to see that the refrigerator door is closed from anywhere with cell phone service. Our daughter and her husband can monitor their home through cameras installed to give them a view of the doors and other areas around their home when they are away.

We have friends who are currently driving toward the Arctic Circle on a grand vacation trek. They have a clever auto-response set up on their email telling correspondents that they will not be checking their email for a while. The road they are driving has long stretches without any cell phone service. It is a remote place. However, I have been following their trip through fairly regular Facebook posts. It is evident that they have the Facebook app on their phone and that they check it whenever they have service.

Remote isn’t as remote as it once was.

Some things, however, remain the same. We had a supper of baked beans and hot dogs cooked over the campfire. Grandparents and grandchildren have been having a similar menu for generations. On the other hand, our campfire was a propane stove because there currently is a ban on wood and charcoal fires in this state park. After supper, we walked down to the beach to watch a gorgeous sunset. Three grandchildren shared our awe and joy at being surrounded by such beauty. They also were eager to go back to our campsite to roast marshmallows and make s’mores. A few games and a few stories rounded out the evening. No internet connection was required for our activities. One of the reasons we take our grandchildren camping is that we believe it is good for them to disconnect. Even though they do not yet have personal cell phones, they are allowed to connect to the Internet using an iPad or a desktop computer in their home. They take constant connection for granted.

All of this technological connection threatens another connection that is critical to our lives. Whether or not we are aware of it, we are connected to the world around us. The indigenous Coast Salish people who have lived in this area since time immemorial have understood the sea, islands, fish, land animals, trees, and all else around them as family. Their ancestors felt connected to creation.

We, too, can experience our connection with the natural world. One way to have that experience is to disconnect from technology. For us, last night it was a walk to the beach at sunset. Today we’ll paddle kayaks around on the bay and ride bicycles alongside the shore. We will walk through the trees and reconnect. It is another gift we want to share with our grandchildren. They will grow up taking technological connections for granted. It might take more effort for them to experience their connections with the natural world. We hope they will grow up making time in their lives to connect with nature.