I’ve come to the conclusion there are certain times when it just makes sense to park technology and live life the old-fashioned way. To lay down the personal electronic devices and resist the temptation of Facebook and Twitter, in favour of the interactivity of people engaged – in person – with people. A family Christmas gathering seems like just such an occasion.
Last weekend – while ice storms raged in much of Southern Ontario and snow piled high in the north – 22 family members from the ‘in-law’ side, skidded their way across Ontario to a large rental cabin in the heart of Muskoka. It was the first Christmas since the passing of my wife’s mother, Jackie last August, and just four years since the sudden loss of her father, Romeo. Without the presence of these central figures, an off-site venue seemed an appropriate transition from the traditional rotation of family hostings. In their memory, we decided to shape the celebration more in the likeness of the personal, interactive experience they had modeled over a lifetime.
In Romeo and Jackie’s vision of Christmas, there was always a wonderful meal prepared, but it was the time around the dinner table – after the meal was finished – that was the most treasured for them. That’s when the real conversation started and invariably carried on for hours. It was the chance to catch up. To tell stories and laugh. To recall memories, and sometimes vigorously debate the details. To enjoy in the most human of ways, the closeness and company of family.
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The cottage was perfect for this occasion. A large open sitting area with comfortable chairs and a warm fireplace for conversation. A couple of guitars made the trip and some songs were shared. Off to the side, a large dining table where small groups gathered over assorted board and card games. Downstairs was a massive games room complete with ping-pong and pool tables, providing the props for round-robin tournaments and the determination of champions among exuberant participants – of all ages.
The grounds provided a winter wonderland. Temperatures were moderate for meandering walks along wintery vistas of breathtaking beauty. Small groups intermittently set out to crunch through freshly fallen snow under glorious canopies of frosted foliage. Every step offered a photo opportunity of splendor that seemed to surpass the one before it. Not far from the cabin – down a steep hill – a frozen lake was quickly cleared by the younger generation for skating and a game of shinny. A classic slice of Canadiana interrupted only by a well-intentioned (and by some accounts, overly skeptical) uncle – with a background in insurance and risk management.
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In the sheer beauty of the environment – and with countless activities at our disposal – the laptops and I-Pads were scarcely missed. There was no tapping of keyboards to be heard. No Candy Crush conquests, or cries of frustrations within earshot. If a conversation stalled with one party’s debatable assertion – just as in the old days – the most convincing argument was deemed authoritative (pending conclusive Google verification at a later date).
While there was a definite nostalgic comfort in going retro, it’s not to say the use of technology was banished entirely from the weekend. There remains an undeniably practical application that connects us in ways that is hard to imagine forfeiting. With eight vehicles making 3 – 5 hour trips to the cottage and home again on treacherous roads, there were weather reports to check and progress updates to provide. There was a flurry of texts and photo exchanges as reports of the vicious ice storm came to us from friends and neighbours. And for the five out-of-province family members who were unable to make it across the country to join us this year, a face-to-face Christmas greeting through the wonders of Skype provided the next best thing to being there.
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On reflection, I found the Christmas weekend to be a wonderful balance, tilted nicely towards the traditions and personal interactions of Christmases past. The opportunities for a large family to find itself under the same roof seem to lessen as children build their own lives and the realities of geography intervene. It was nice to suspend electronic distraction for a short time and use the unique opportunity of proximity, to share in a way that technology will never replace.
And I sense there were a few beloved family members observing from their own celestial vantage point this Christmas, who likely approved.
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