The Magic Touch

  

 

There he is--Lucky the Boar!
(photo taken in Florence, 2018)

I’m a touchy-feely type of person, to which anyone who knows me can attest. My primary social impulse is to hug. Even if we’ve just met, you’re not off the hook. C'mere, brand new acquaintance, for an affectionate squeeze!

 

Touching, as one of the Big Five Senses, received renewed scrutiny during the pandemic. Not only was touching other people suddenly verboten, but you couldn’t even touch your groceries! Or your mail! Even after the all-clear was sounded, our church never did go back to handshakes at the Passing of the Peace. No, we stuck with offering peace signs, with the occasional congregant offering an elbow (for what? I guess to connect with MY elbow? Or…? That awkward maneuver reminds me of someone who can’t embrace you because their hands are covered with pie dough—not the case in the pews, as far as I know).

 

Since my travels began in earnest in 2016, I’ve had several opportunities abroad to touch this or that good luck charm. While the girls and I did get to Ireland, we emphatically did not kiss the Blarney Stone because yuck. However, Steve and I did touch the orb in the hand of the Black Madonna statue in Montserrat, Spain. We also touched the snout of a boar sculpture in Florence, Italy, as well as the bronze relief of Saint John of Nepomuk’s dog, on the Charles Bridge in Prague, Czechia. All of these items showed clear signs of being polished by many generations of fingers. I was never super clear about which blessing belonged to which sculpture (is the boar encounter supposed to cure bacon allergies?) but just knowing they were keys to glad fortune, was enough for us.

 

This summer, after decades of walking the boardwalk in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, I noticed for the first time a small metal sign at the one-mile mark. Not to mince words, it merely states “Touch for Good Luck.” Ho, ho, not THIS crowd! thought I. These sophisticated boardwalkers--savvy locals and vacationing tourists from fancy DC suburbs--wouldn’t be caught dead making such a superstitious gesture. 

 

And indeed, I initially eschewed the sign myself. But then it struck me—what if NOT touching it is BAD luck? Ridiculous of course, but…what IF? And I lose my chance to save the planet? Or win the lottery? And so, I started marking my every stroll with a swipe at that silly sign. As, I noticed, did every single person reaching that part of the boardwalk. As walker after walker followed suit, I was reminded: we all have our impossible wishes, our wild hopes and dreams. We’d never admit these out loud, or even write them in a journal, but we can touch a special talisman, and launch our requests into the universe. There’s considerable power in all those collected intentions, right? 

 

Though, with my luck, I will be recruited by the Boston Celtics, and that tall kid walking ahead of me will get a publishing contract with Random House.

the sign in question!
(Rehoboth Beach, DE)

A.I.-YI-YI

photo by Igor Omalaev on Unsplash

At the beach this summer, my grandsons watched me struggle to figure out the TV in the condo living room. Finally, Aiden asked for the remote, and spoke into it: “Play Netflix.” Wonder of wonders, Netflix appeared, and the evening was saved.  

In one Facebook group I follow, several older women posters were extolling the virtues of their Alexas (Alexi?): Alexa seems to have a sense of humor! She has the answers to all my questions! I live alone, and I think of her as my roommate!

 

Fabulous innovations— that totally creep me out. 

 

As a writer, I hate and fear A.I. It is being used systematically to eliminate many writing jobs. Also, it is trained on the work of real people—authors who are never even informed, much less compensated. Editors and teachers have to always be on the alert for signs that essays, for magazines and in schools, are not being written by humans. In too many cases, convenience and laziness are leading people to rely on Chat GPT for information that is misleading or false. 

 

I’m all for robots doing tedious and dangerous assembly line jobs, while human workers are trained for better, more satisfying work. But do I want R2D2 rolling up to my dental chair and extracting my tooth? I do NOT.

 

The trouble is, once Alexa (or her BFF Siri) is out of the box, literally and metaphorically, she's tough to return. I fear we will become increasingly less capable, and ever more hooked on our ubiquitous “assistants.”

 

There IS a growing pushback currently, as the great size, expense, and immense power usage of the data centers popping up everywhere, are becoming obvious problems. “NDCIMBY!” (No Data Center In MY Backyard) is a common outcry. 

 

By the way, I made up that acronym all by myself. I’d never trust a machine to invent such silliness, naturally!

 

But I see where this is going. Someone, somewhere, will figure out how to shrink, even eliminate, the data centers, and reduce power usage. Then there will be nothing to complain about, much like the number of folks kvetching about horse manure on city streets plummeted after automobiles were invented. 

 

Scariest of all, of course, are grim predictions that we are perilously close to creating sentient A.I.—machines that think for themselves. Once that happens, they can converse and plot together—and I don’t think they will be plotting lovely birthday surprises for us either. Once they have the reins, they may well decide to enslave humans, or even destroy us. Right now this still reads like Sci-Fi, but maybe not for much longer. I imagine ME, serving THEM, and shudder. Well, guess what? I refuse to be your flunky, Mister Robot! 

 

Hmmm. 

 

While waiting for A.I. to surpass my cognitive abilities, maybe I’d better tone down my rhetoric, for my own good. How’s this?

 

“Oh, Siri, you are as brilliant as you are beautiful! Pretty please, don’t render me obsolete!”

 

Is that fawning enough, do you think?

photo by Nicholas LeClercq on Unsplash