Technology is a Curse - But Also a Gift

My husband was always at the cutting edge of every kind of technology, so it is no surprise that we have a "Smart" house, one that is filled with all kinds of devices that do things for us. We have an Alexa in nearly every room that can tell us the time and date, set timers and alarms and reminders, look up trivia, give us a weather report, order items on line, compile grocery lists, play music, find recipes, and on and on. I can control the family room television with my voice. I can control many of the lights with my voice, not just on and off but dimmers and colors. Our pool has an "Intellicenter" control system which is supposed to make managing the pool chemistry simpler (spoiler alert: it does not). Our garage doors close automatically at 9pm if we accidentally leave them open. Our outside motion sensors send an alert to our phones if they go off in the middle of the night in case there's an intruder (spoiler alert: it's not; it's either a spider or a raccoon). Our thermostats are programmable. We have phone apps that can control the pool slide, the furnace, the Roomba vacuum, the garage lights, the outdoor lights, the irrigation system, our finances, our lives. 

He loved it. 

I do not. Because I don't get it. I never had to get it. I was happy to let him play with all his devices and controls. But now it's driving me crazy because I have no choice but to figure it all out. I have to access his online banking to make sure the bills are paid. I have to figure out the thermostats so we don't either swelter to death or pay a fortune in unneeded air conditioning. I have to master the pool controls so the pool stays safe. I have to figure out his Alexa programming so the alarm in my bedroom doesn't continue to go off (loudly) at 6:30 every morning. I have to figure out what bills are paid automatically and which ones I need to manage manually. I'd love to figure out how he made the outside speaker connect to the Alexa to play music by the pool. I'd love to know how to override the irrigation "skip because rain is predicted" when those thunderstorms pass us by yet again. It's like everything I need to do around the house involves mastering yet another piece of technology. 

It makes me want to curse technology. 

But then I think back to when my dad died, and my mom didn't change the outgoing message on their answering machine (remember those?) because that was the only record she had of Dad's voice. They didn't have any home movies where she could hear or watch him as she remembered him. Their photos were in scrapbooks or boxes - or, in many cases, in the carousel of a dusty slide projector - that she would have to dig out if she wanted to see his picture. 

I, on the other hand, am surrounded by many reminders of him. I can hear his voice in the beautiful tribute video posted by our friends at Reagle. I can pull up literally thousands of photos and videos of our many travel adventures in mere seconds in my Google photo albums, on Facebook, on my phone, and yes, on our Alexa devices. I don't have to just remember the time he taught Ryan how to saber champagne, I have a video of it. I don't have to just picture our honeymoon adventures in my mind's eye, I have an online album of photos. I don't have to just tell my kids how much their dad adored them, I have piles of visual evidence at my fingertips. 

And even beyond photos and videos, I can go into his email and search by keyword for information on bills, home maintenance resources, insurance, people I need to connect with. I might be able to complete some paperwork online that I would otherwise have to take care of in person at a remote office. I was able to look up a lot of the details that I'll need in the coming weeks to deal with his estate, details I would have a hard time finding in physical files and records. 

So as much as technology is complicating my life right now, it is also bringing me solace. And the complications will ease up at some point, but the solace will go on. For me, for my children, for our family, and for all those for whom Herb's memory brings a smile. Technology may bring me to tears, but I will be smiling through those tears. And at some point, the tears will fade, but the smile will always remain. 

Mine, and his.