The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
I’m going to switch gears a bit this week, because this column may feel a little different than what I usually write. It’s been weighing on my heart for a while now, and the more I see it playing out around me each day, the harder it is to ignore.
We need to talk about our phones, and what they’re doing to our ability to communicate.
In a world that has never been more “connected,” we somehow seem more disconnected than ever. Conversations are shorter. Eye contact is rare. Silence is filled not with thought, but with scrolling. What once required interaction, patience, and even a little courage can now be avoided with the swipe of a finger.
I see it every single day at my job. I’ll acknowledge a child or teenager, say hello, ask a simple question, or try to engage, and they don’t even look up from their phone. No response. No acknowledgment. Just eyes glued to a screen. It’s not just the occasional moment; it’s becoming the norm.
Our younger generation is growing up in a world where they don’t have to use much brain power at all. Need an answer? Google it. Bored? Scroll. Awkward silence? Phone. There’s no need to problem-solve, memorize, wonder, or even sit with discomfort anymore. Everything is instantly available, neatly packaged, and spoon-fed through a screen.
And maybe, just maybe our parents were right.
Remember when they warned us that phones would ruin us? That we’d lose social skills, attention spans, and the ability to hold real conversations? We laughed it off. We rolled our eyes. We thought they were being dramatic. But now, watching kids struggle to communicate face-to-face, avoid eye contact, and feel uncomfortable without a device in their hands, it’s hard to argue that they weren’t onto something.
This isn’t about blaming kids. They didn’t create this world; they were handed it. A lot of us adults are guilty as well. We spend more time staring at our phones or iPads than we do communicating. When we are bored, we pick it up. Scrolling has become a formed habit. Open an app, scroll, close it, and open another. Trust me, I’m guilty too. I find myself scrolling on my phone more often than not.
In a small town especially, communication matters. We pride ourselves on knowing one another, greeting each other by name, stopping to talk on the sidewalk, and showing kindness through conversation. When we lose that, we lose part of what makes our community strong.
Phones and social media have their place, but they were never meant to replace human connection. We were made to talk, to listen, to think, and to engage with the world around us, and not just observe it through a screen.
Maybe it’s time we start putting the phones down a little more. Looking up. Teaching our kids that real conversation still matters. Because if we don’t, we may wake up one day surrounded by people who have everything at their fingertips, except the ability to truly connect.