Yesterday I witnessed an older couple poring through DVDs and VHS tapes at the Goodwill. I had recently scored a DVD/VCR combo because I knew I could flip it on Marketplace and make a nice return. Everything old is new again — yada, yada, yada.
But what I realized is they have it figured out.
Their heads were bent together, touching and picking out physical media. I heard them exclaim with joy when they happened on a title they loved. The smiles on their faces radiated a certain type of peace I’ve been missing.
Online, all the time.
The joy is gone.
Streaming, man. I’m burned out, spent up and losing pennies that add up to many dollars because of the splintering cost of too many streaming services. I can’t watch this show on this service because now there’s a premium service that carries it. We don’t need any more services with PLUS+ in the title because it just means money and the division of shows that were all in one place.
Once, there were premium services like Home Box Office (I mean, it’s still HBO — no longer Max), Cinemax and Showtime. We could add these to our cable lineup for a cost if we wanted. Sometimes there was a free preview weekend we’d get excited about. When that was over, we went back to the regularly scheduled lineup Monday morning. Or we’d rent movies for variety.
Now they all have an app we can add.
Why do I need all these services that scramble my brain? I don’t have them all. Right now my lineup consists of Netflix (since 2010) and Prime. I canceled Hulu long ago, Disney+ went away when my son’s free year through Verizon was done and HBO MAX went bye-bye six months after they started showing first-run movies once a month during the pandemic. I also have the Spectrum app because I want my local channels. I have to watch the Browns on something. But even that has gone up by double since I first added it. I cannot go on.
I’d like to go lie down in the forest and have moss grow over me. Maybe I could make little coffee cups with acorns and brew tea to sip while the wildflowers sway around me. Words flow through me at all times, and I could write them down on a stone with ink made from blackberries. Do blackberries make good ink? I’ll never know unless I try.
Maybe we are inside the Matrix, and it’s time to wake up.
I sold that DVD/VCR combo within a week. I hooked it up with my trusty composite cables and tested it with a DVD, then a VHS tape. It worked beautifully, and I filmed each test to post with the listing. A woman bought it, and after checking her Marketplace profile (which I always do when selling), I realized she was my age or older. Maybe she was going back to non-online joy.
I grew up on books and Atari, pinball games, and late-night Big Chuck & Little John scary movies. Our VCR arrived in the early ‘80s, and a new world was opened up to us. Video rental stores were part of our weekly moments, and I miss the simple joy of finding the movie you want on the shelf. The pleasure was finding it, not having it ready at a moment’s notice.
But that world is long gone unless I seek it. I’d need to learn to open a book instead of turning on the TV to stream whatever. I’d need to learn to lay my phone down. Our bodies and minds were not designed to hold so much information and availability. It’s wrecking us bit by bit. And I know, for me, it would take sheer willpower to do it the old way. But maybe it’s time to try.
Melissa Herrera is a reflective writer who captures the beauty and sorrow of change. With a career spanning 14 years as an opinion columnist and the publication of two books, she resides in Stark County with her husband and four cats. She writes to preserve memories. You can reach her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.
