There was once a time when a person could sit on their porch in the cool of the evening, crickets serenading them from the tall grasses, the moonlight bathing everything in a serene and unearthly glow. It was a time to ponder, reflect, and recharge, as you watched the world go by. It was simple. But now, the evening peace is shattered by screens that never sleep, notifications that never cease, and the perpetual, shrill demands of ‘urgent’ emails needing imminent attention. Society sleepwalks from the serenity of a quiet evening into the incessant, merciless grind of a 24/7 culture.
In Schenectady, NY, our quiet city had been a haven from such noise for the longest time. Our evenings were untouched, sacred. I look around now and wonder, where has the scope for contemplation gone? Have our lives become so populated by the white noise of modern living that we’ve lost sight of what’s truly important—the ability to unplug, unwind, and simply enjoy peace and quiet?
Living in Schenectady, or “The Electric City” as we call it, I’ve seen our simple world energized by progress. We moved from the tranquil era of Edison to Zuckerberg’s digital revolution, which has thrust us into a realm of instantaneous gratification and ceaseless chatter. There’s no dial-down button anymore; we’re “on” all the time. This, coming from someone who was one of the first kids on the block to have a color TV—a big, wooden piece of furniture that monopolized a corner of the living room, and yet was welcome for its modest intrusion. I am not adverse to progress, but usurping our power to enjoy a quiet evening seems like a leap we might want to reevaluate.
Some years ago, our humble city was wrapped in a tranquility that was the envy of surrounding towns. I remember how every Wednesday evening, my father and I would sit on our front porch, basking in the melodic rhythm of silence. We’d talk about our favorite Yankee players, but the real treat was the comforting silence between our words. Today, that serenity has been replaced by the incessant ticking of keys, the unending buzz of phone notifications, and a persistent digital glow that invades every corner of our lives. That silence now seems like an unwelcome guest, often replaced by the clamor of technology.
The ceaseless need to be ‘in the loop’ invades the once-sacred space of our quiet evenings. There’s an inexplicable expectation, as if missing the latest trending meme will have profound implications on our lives. Convenience has turned into an obligation, and I can’t help but yearn for the days when life’s pace was set by the townsfolk of Schenectady, and not by the frenzied undercurrents of the internet.
There’s been an incremental invasion of our private space, leaving us with no room to breathe. The irony is — we’re the ones walking into this trap willingly, sacrificing personal peace. Be it the young mother down the street who spends evenings lost in the maze of Pinterest, or old Mrs. Bennett who once enjoyed watching sunset skies, now squinting into the harsh light of her iPad, tracing emojis with arthritic fingers.
Is there a way out of our digitally overlaid existence? Can we reclaim our refuge and freedom? Probably yes. But it involves resisting the tumultuous symphony of progress and carving our own pace of life. Turn off your screen an hour before bed; brew a cup of steaming hot tea; sit by the window and tune in to the rhythm of your heartbeat. That, my dear Schenectady, is the essence of a quiet evening.
Maybe I’m an old soul trapped in modern times. As silence becomes scarcer, I find its value immeasurable. Let’s not forget the wisdom of our forefathers; while Schenectady was one of the first cities to have electric street lights, they still had the foresight to take time every evening to unplug, wind down, gaze at the stars, and enjoy life’s simple pleasures. Even in the rush of this fast-paced world, let’s remember to slow down and enjoy Schenectady’s quiet evenings. This Electric City could use a little peace and quiet – just as it had in the past. Will you join me in reclaiming it
