Lifestyle
Every summer for nearly twenty years, my family has ventured to a serene lake house nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains. This escape from our bustling life in the Deep South offers a refreshing change, filled with beautiful landscapes and a slower pace that creates countless cherished memories. However, there’s one notable challenge—there’s no internet.
Wi-Fi? Not a chance. Hot dogs? Absolutely. Hot spots? Zero. Our phone data? We reach our limit within the first couple of days, and after that, it’s distributed sparingly, reserved for “emergencies,” like checking who got eliminated on the latest reality show or identifying poison ivy.
Welcome to our summer of disconnection. Initially painful? Perhaps. Ultimately priceless? Definitely.
The saying “you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone” rings painfully true when it comes to constant access to information, endless streaming entertainment, and instant social media gratification. When it’s always available, it becomes an extension of ourselves, relied upon heavily. But when it’s taken away? Imagine a fish flopping out of water, gasping for its source of life.
The first few days without internet resemble a scene from a detox center: my kids wander around, dazed and confused, staring at their empty palms, their minds struggling to rewire and adapt. They naturally gravitate toward the television, only to find basic cable with no options for pausing or rewinding. TV with commercials? That’s so last decade, and to them, it’s as if we’ve transported them back to the 1950s. Complaints of “I’m bored!” and “What do we do now?” echo through the air as they search for a substitute for their lost digital connection.
Then comes the pivotal moment. They rediscover that they can engage their own thoughts—without a status update, Snapchat, or Twitter feed. I join them in this digital detox, grabbing a book, lying beneath the trees, and embracing the nostalgia of simpler times.
Without the constant flow of stimulation, they begin to create their own experiences. Watching them transform boredom into imaginative play is fascinating. Sure, we enjoy board games, card games, and outdoor competitions—but it’s also vital to embrace the simplicity of doing nothing. In these quiet moments, extraordinary creativity flourishes, and my kids learn to appreciate their own company. They realize that solitude isn’t a curse, and that not every moment needs to be documented or shared. These moments become cherished experiences—our experiences, filled with real-life interactions instead of virtual ones.
As summer comes to a close and we return home, everyone rushes to their rooms to reconnect online, only to realize that they didn’t miss much at all. A few minutes of scrolling confirms that everything we needed to know, we already knew. The important connections were maintained throughout our break. All that screen time we used to fill? It had been satisfyingly replaced with real-life moments.
While it takes time to adjust to life without the internet, it also takes time to reacclimate to it. You might expect the kids to jump back online and stay connected for hours, but they don’t. They log on briefly, only to log off again, relishing the freedom of their offline summer. As school resumes and the need for connectivity looms, I know we will reluctantly slip back into a routine of constant digital engagement—clicking, swiping, and tapping, often losing sight of the vibrant 3D world around us.
Those disconnected summer moments? They were unique and invaluable, even the moments that seemed mundane or unexciting. Though they weren’t shared online, they hold a lasting importance that can never be replicated in the digital realm. And for that, I am truly grateful.