Here’s a little confession: when I am dying for something sweet—something close to a piece of candy—I’ve been known to buy a bag of marshmallows. Far cheaper than chocolates. And reasonable on the calorie front: Four regular pieces of jet-puffed goodness run about 85 calories.
Only this time when I added marshmallows to my grocery delivery, I didn’t realize that I’d selected “s’more” marshmallows. Which are big and square-ish—manufactured to fit segments of graham crackers and chocolate bars. No more having to squish a round marshmallow into a rectangular sandwich!
What next, I asked myself. Almost 700 million humans face deep hunger every day. And two billion or so folks don’t know where their next meal will originate. And we’re busy manufacturing marshmallows for s’mores.
And shoes that we don’t have to bend over to put on—god forbid. And every conceivable cat toy that jumps, squeaks, and blinks—despite cats studied disinterest. When did a paper bag, a shoelace, and something that resembles a mouse become obsolete.
A trip through even our modest grocery stores in Helena reveals a thousand applications of better-living-through-science. “Shelf-stable” loaves of bread—and yes indeed, the one I purchased showed NO mold even after 6 months. Meatballs made so I don’t have to; bacon already cooked; half an aisle devoted to plastic bags and containers as opposed to Mother’s careful harvest of the waxed cereal box liners and bread wrappers. A fresh vegetable section in which everything that one needs for a salad has been washed and diced and chopped.
The speed and volume of technological change take my breath away. Someone today advertised a new cable to charge our iPhones that sits parallel to the bottom of the phone instead of sticking out at right angles. And this morning I spotted an ad for a magic spray that will “relax” all clothing wrinkles eliminating the need to iron ANYTHING.
I’m no luddite. My home and cupboards contain many labor and space-saving devices that I don’t officially need but find handy. I smile every time I deploy the jar opener that saves my hand and wrist from struggle. I bless whoever invented the long-handled shoehorn. But I’m also attached to the tools and objects of my childhood. Yes, I know that my phone can measure distances. But when needed to compare my refrigerator’s dimensions with a new model, I reached automatically for my antique yardstick.
Decrying a world of new gadgets and swiftly changing technology is the lament of old people. Of folks who would rather not have to master strange devices. Of folks who are more comfortable with the familiar. I think or hope that I straddle the new and old divides.
But I’m struck again and again by what seems to be the misdirected creativity of humankind. Tiger Tiger and Tuxedo do not ever need or want a more clever, lithium-ion battery toy. There are far far more critical uses of lithium—the white gold of technology and renewable energy. And I would much rather have inventively-minded humans deploy their skills in medicine or food production or educational strategies or housing or social services than the endless Shark Tank gimmicks. I can live without a StopDrop between my car seats or a ScrubDaddy to wash silverware.
Yes, it’s all about the marketplace and capitalism. And even more, perhaps, it’s all about what humans are tempted and able to buy. Me too!
But still – – s’more marshmallows?? (©)
