The Times They Are a Changin’

I recently read an article explaining the world has entered a new geological age, the Anthropocene. This means future geologists will find human-created residue from radiation, plastics, mining, agriculture, and industry in the earth’s sediments. At this time, scientists haven’t made this official; however, mention in the media indicates the world is evolving. Change unsettles me, so for distraction, I imagined the lives of those who occupied this region I call home. Other than finding bits of worked jasper, chert, and flint in plowed fields and reading stories recounted after the fact in history books, small evidence remains of those who not only survived but also thrived in this arid country west of 98^th meridian.

Despite prospering in this landscape, these cultures weren’t native to this place. They migrated from places like the Black Hills and Wind River Range speaking languages with Algonquin, Shoshonean, and Tanoan roots, which indicates their nations originated from distant parts of this country.

Prior to the arrival of Spaniards who brought horses from Europe, these bands journeyed by foot with the help of domesticated dogs trained to carry small loads. This limited not only their range of movement but also their ability to conquer others. Imagine how swiftly their lives altered when horses introduced faster and more efficient travel and ways to make war.

The grassy Plains provided a perfect setting for this equine culture to flourish. The fleet-footed beasts offered not only transportation and military strength but also wealth nourished by endless acres of sun-fueled grasses. Within a generation, people once limited to foot travel became savvy riders who covered enormous distances while hunting and warring. Historians explain that these adaptable equestrians mastered shooting game and fighting battles while firing up to thirty arrows a minute. Until firearm technology included reliable, repeating rifles and pistols, these archers were what some call “Lords of the Plains.”

Due to their nomadic life style, they adapted to unpredictable weather conditions on the prairie more easily than later arriving immigrants who established permanent residences. Mobility permitted bands to relocate as they exhausted resources or fouled an area. Their expanded ability to harvest native animals and plants generated improved nutrition, better housing, plentiful clothing, and other necessities.

 Buffalo herds numbering in the millions migrated through these grasslands seasonally. Native residents used the entire carcass to produce food, containers, tools, robes, and tipis. If they killed more than they could use, they traded for goods. For early Plains residents, these shaggy beasts functioned as a Walmart on the hoof long before Sam Wall conceived of his big box chain.

Even before the Civil War, Plains tribes saw their world changing. Once railways and roads bisected the prairie, they understood their way of life was under siege. For decades, they fought this transformation, successfully for a time. Once the Great Rebellion ended, new technology and hordes of land-hungry immigrants meant the old order was over. No matter how perfectly adapted these transient cultures were to living on this windy, dry ancient seabed, transformation was inevitable.

When I think of those dark-skinned people camping and hunting in the Smoky Hill, Saline, and Solomon River valleys, I wonder what they’d think of asphalt highways linking little towns that follow their old trails. What would they think of the changes wrought in this new age so heavily influenced by humans?

Buttons, Handles, and Flushers

A nostalgic essay about the good old days when all food was slow and TVs only received two channels recently caught my attention. It made me think about the differences between my childhood and my grandkids’.

 The paragraph about not having a remote really struck home. The author explained how adults expected children to trudge to the television to manually switch from one channel to the other. I remember those days when dad would tell us to change channels. I might have been a grown up in my own home before I owned a television with a device that allowed us to flick channels without leaving our seats. That was just the beginning of technology that encouraged dependence. Now it’s expanded into restrooms.

 Soon after reading this article, I traveled and, as a result, visited several public bathrooms. Those calls of nature made me realize another cultural shift is taking place. Youngsters growing up today won’t know the time when people using such facilities had to flush their own toilets, turn water on and off at the faucet, and crank their own paper towels. Many stores and rest areas have bathrooms with automatic sensors that do all that for the users. 

As soon as a person rises from the commode, a flush is signaled. The benefit here is that stalls always have freshly flushed stools. The disadvantage is sometimes folks would like more distance before that electric eye sets off this reaction. I guess I’m old-fashioned, but I like being the one to decide when that swirling action begins.

Once users finish their business, it’s time to visit the sink. It doesn’t take long to realize they won’t be either turning a faucet handle or lifting one. In a flash, they notice the distinct lack of handles. Instead, they wave hands under the spigot, and, magically, water sprays over them.

Apparently, soap distributors haven’t jumped on board with automatic dispensers because folks still have to manually press a button to load their palms with foaming cleanser. Unfortunately, while getting suds, hands must move away from the sensing device at the sink, and the flow ends. I’ve discovered it takes a moment to reposition hands correctly to trigger a rinse. That little hesitation always produces a moment of panic. What if the spigot doesn’t go back on and my hands are all lathered up!

To add to this hygiene magic, modern children won’t know about either cranking their own paper towels or pushing the stiff button that forces the roll to spew out a single sheet. They certainly won’t get to use the old-fashioned belt of rotating cotton that I loved pulling out of that metal box  positioned above the sink. Nope, kids will think they wave their hands under a silver flue, and hot air instantly dries them. 

I see advantages to these changes. There is less trash in the bathroom without paper towels. If sensors  work, toilets flush every time they’re used. Despite those benefits, I miss being responsible for activating these devices. If we’ve made changing channels and going the bathroom automatic, what new changes lurk around the corner?