A Holiday unplugged

No, I haven’t made the austere move of totally disconnecting, but there are times I reflect on moments that no technology can faithfully duplicate. 

One day I laid down my iPad and reached for an old Foxfire book laying on the coffee table in my sunroom. Exploring the yellowing black-and-white pages took me to simpler times. 

Living on the fringes of Appalachia as I have for a while now, I am captivated by the people whose stories fill the pages of these time-honored books. The history and folklore comes alive. I’m careful not to overly romanticize these folks because they had a tough life, working hard, making do, and often doing without. Some never traveled far from home. 

We’re accustomed to a 24/7 news cycle and the ability to create alternate online realities at our fingertips. We can snap photos and videos on our smartphone and share them with the world instantaneously. 

Foxfire books have enjoyed something of a revival, the bump in popularity due in part to modern day preppers seeking self-sufficiency should the world come crashing down around us. 

My takeaway from reading these, however, is an admiration for the resourcefulness of simple folks minding their business and working the land. But it’s also for the importance they held for their families and, for many of them, their faith in God. 

I have several Foxfire books and am about an hour’s drive away from their headquarters and museum, and have become acquainted with a few folks found within the pages. And they do have a website like everybody else. 

No, I’m not going to head for the woods to fell trees with my axe and build myself a log cabin.  But whenever I read the books I’ll be reminded perhaps more about what’s important. 

I’m convicted that sacrificing screen time for something that’s more real is worth every moment. 

As Christmas nears, I want to sign off and logout more and cherish my family. Those relationships matter. 

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