When I was growing up, I remember that in the summer there were mothers who would not let their children inside until 8 p.m.. When asked why, they said it was in order to keep their house clean. The beach by the river was so full of people that one had no place to step because the blankets were so close to each other. There were groups of children who'd play there all day. They'd play football or various other games, and jump in the water and scream. The streets were also full of children who played ball.
Today, the opposite is true. Children are always inside. The streets are empty except for perhaps a token child who drives his bike forlornly looking for company and finding none. When I go to the beach by the river, almost everyone there is retired. There are a few middle aged ladies, and the rest are retired men, who enjoy each other's company. Most come alone while their significant others cook, clean, care for grandchildren and/or watch TV at home. About once or twice in the summer a grandchild is torn away from his electronic devices, and dragged to the beach. There they play a bit in the dirt, and do not come again the next day. There is also a mother with twin daughters in their early teens. They came once when she took their phones away while the mother comes daily -- alone or with their dad. Gone are the days when children would skip chores to go for a swim with their friends or beg to go on vacation. Often the parents go on vacation alone because their teenage children don't want to come. They'd rather be home on their phone without their parents in their hair. As for the chores, their ability to do them is more and more limited, and even in villages the number chores is decreasing. People often have empty yards that maybe host a dog, and buy food from the store.
As we walk by a place that sells phones I hear voices. Two older ladies with long, wide skirts and an accent are buying a phone. Their port, their speech, and their hands show that they are from the country and that they are no strangers to work in the fields. So, they are offered the simplest, cheapeast kind of phone. It has buttons and costs 50 lei. They return it and say "please give me one with a mirror so that the grandchildren can come to visit" (by mirror they mean screen). The grandchildren no longer come to help with the harvest or even to eat the good food cooked by grandma and play outside. If they come at all, they come to be on their phones just like at home.
I hear people in their seventies discussing: "I still sit straight, but my granddaughter does not because she is always crunched down buttoning her phone." Back problems have become so frequent in teenagers. Gone are the tanned imps who'd run around all day and skip chores to play ball.
Sometimes I look at the younger children who are inside all day on their phone or tablets. Their skin is often so white that it seems trasparent. They look so fragile, and yet so beautiful. In the same time somehow they seem out of this world, and without much life in them. Some walk on their toes. Others don't speak, but can write words in English because they use them to look for movies on their phones. The parents are proud of their child's phone use. I shudder. Autism is so frequent nowadays, and so are tantrums that happen if the phone or tablet is briefly taken away. The lockdown and the switching of school to the online medium has made the screen addiction so much worse for those who were somewhat functional. I wonder when will society admit that screen adiction is dangerous and makes one disfunctional just like alcohol and other drugs. For now everyone is encouraged to be on their screens, just like everyone was encourgaed to smoke for most of the 20th century.
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