Media Cleanse

July 20, 2024|Rick Juliusson

Someone told me Trump was shot last week. It bubbled briefly through my bliss then floated away again, unperturbed, unexamined, unrelated to my reality.

I’m on day 10 of an unplanned media cleanse. Just imagine: no emails, no New York Times daily digest and Heather Cox Richardson’s “Letters from an American”, no facebook, no netflix. No books even. (The modern version of John Lennon's song? "Imagine there's no email...")

Four days at the Winnipeg Folk Fest will do that to a person. Four days of complete immersion into music, community, culture, counter-culture, food-truck food, bare feet, camping, and a convergence of friends from our lives in Austin, BC, Minnesota and Sarah’s Kalamazoo College. The media fast wasn’t deliberate - there was just never a time that the Sirens' call of the cell phone could be heard over the call to be fully part of the compelling rhythm of the folk fest experience.

Instead of hearing the Biden vs Harris debate, I was hearing techno-fusion Polish polka. In place of feeling political panic, I was absorbing the pure Joy and musical wizardry of my Austin friends’ son and his stellar Virginia folk trio “Palmyra.” Each small stage intimate sharing and big evening performance on the open field swept me further from the rut of media and misplaced priorities. Remembered how to enjoy home-grown full-bodied sounds instead of sound bytes.

Halfway home from Winnipeg Sarah dropped me off to cycle the final 200 miles. The first 115 miles were on old railways through farm and forest (and the famous Lutheran church from Prairie Home Companion’s “News from Lake Wobegon”, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average”), and over 80% of the rest was on dedicated bike paths along the muddy Mississip. The first night I just pulled over and camped trailside, where I was awoken not by sirens and horns but by the loud snorting and hoofing of an elk, the frantic buzz of mosquitos trying to get into my tiny tent, and a very happy cyclist who whizzed back and forth 4 times at 5:30am on his fat-tired e-bike shouting a very merry “GOOOOOOD MORNING!”

I’m not saying that the attempted assassination of an ex-president and convicted felon (or Canada’s amazing semi-final run in Copa America!) isn’t important. It matters greatly, but the currentness and depth of my awareness of it doesn’t. When it comes time to vote in my first ever US election I’d better know the facts, but somehow my life has gotten along just fine without the latest polls and opinions and spin. The break has opened my ears and heart to snorting elk and thumping Mennonite banjo players and questionable morning skinny dips in the Mississippi River (just barely had enough clothes back on when the police cruised by).

After three days home I’m finally getting used to being indoors, but haven’t yet jumped back into the media stream. Should I go back and read ten days worth of News? No doubt I’ve missed something interesting, but do I need to catch everything? At today’s weekly pizza lunch gathering of old men (all of us alum of the Mankind Project), I was able to follow the political banter without the benefit of my daily 30-60 minutes of news following.

Note to my fellow gamers: my mental acuity has surprisingly not diminished without the daily crossword and Wordle to stave off Alzheimers. And I feel even more connected to the world without my daily Connections frustration. Maybe, just maybe, a morning walk along the river or rooftop yoga would be a better morning ritual than relying on the New York Times to dictate my interests and focus.