Ah, the good ol’ days. I remember them as if they were just yesterday. They were simpler, yes, and maybe a little less flashy than the world we live in now. But there was a sense of excitement and wonder in that simplicity, a magic that seems to have been lost in our transition to this high-tech, digital era.
Case in point? The new encyclopedia set that would arrive at the local library every year. To you youngsters, this might not seem like much of a thrill. Why wait for a year to get updates on global happenings, when you can just take your phone out of your pocket and get real-time updates on practically everything as it’s happening?
But let me make my case. You see, we live in Schenectady, New York, a small city that might seem insignificant if you’re looking at it from a big picture perspective. Back in the day, we didn’t have the internet or cell phones. We had our community, our shared experiences, and our imagination. Our window to the world outside of our small city was the encyclopedia.
Wandering into the library as a young boy, newly prepared to launch myself into the fantastical world of knowledge, was an experience second to none. I would trace my fingers along the spines of those majestic books, feeling the smooth leather beneath my skin, and it was like every world leader, every historical event, every scientific discovery was right there in my fingertips. The entire sum of human knowledge was right there for the discovering, every page a treasure chest of information.
There was excitement in bringing the newly arrived volume to a reading table, the hush of the library serving as a sacred backdrop to the unveiling of the year’s intellect. The crisp smell of new pages, the silent thrill of delving into the unknown, the satisfaction in gaining knowledge, word by word, page by page. It was exhilarating.
To me and my friends – well, they’re more like brothers now, since we’ve spent the majority of our lives together in Schenectady – every single article on every single page represented a new adventure. We would debate for hours about who gets to read which volume first. Kieran would almost always opt for the volume with the world maps, obsessed with exploring places his feet would never set upon. I was more curious about wars and world history. But the beauty of the encyclopedia was that it provided something for everyone.
Years later, during my senior year, something new called ‘the Internet’ began to buzz around. People said it was the ‘future of knowledge sharing.’ They weren’t wrong, of course, but what we gained in efficiency and speed, we lost in awe and anticipation. In place of quiet library discussions, we found ourselves talking to faceless people on the internet. In place of encyclopedia-induced debates and discussions, there was a rush to prove who could find information the fastest, leaving little time for true understanding.
A harsh truth greeted me during my 50th birthday. Things really have changed. People don’t step foot into libraries as much as they used to; there are empty seats on an average day where there used to be lines. The Book Loft, the favorite gathering spot for Schenectady intellectuals like myself in the old days, is losing business to e-book platforms.
Will I miss the humility of the encyclopedia: a physical reminder of our limitations, and our boundless capacity for learning? Of course. Will future generations miss the feeling of holding an encyclopedia, smelling its pages, and working hard to read through each entry, to earn their knowledge? They won’t. Because they do not know what it feels like.
This is not a lamentation for a bygone era, nor a repudiation of today’s technology. It’s merely a point of view that shows how the ways in which we acquire knowledge and engage with it has fundamentally shifted. Today’s access to information is powerful, no doubts about it. But it’s important to appreciate the journey of learning, and not just the end result. Like they say, it’s the journey that matters, not the destination.
So, to youngsters reading this, I’d recommend that you head to our little library at least once. Pick up a dusty, mostly-forgotten volume of an old encyclopedia, and give it a read. You won’t be disappointed.
For old-timers like me, it’s a nostalgic trip down the memory lane, but for you? Well, you may just discover the thrill of learning we old folks are always reminiscing about. The excitement of waiting for a new set of encyclopedia? A cardiac workout. I tell you, it’s something to be missed, youngsters. It’s something to be sorely missed.
My name is Brian McCarthy, lifelong resident of Schenectady, and all I want is to bring back some semblance of that enduring magic of learning, the respect for knowledge, the reverence we once held for the written word. It’s an uphill battle, no doubt. But I am a stubborn old soul, who still believes in the wonders of our small city and the endlessly fascinating world beyond it.
