Debate was in full swing, at the Luddite Club’s annual match against the Futuro Club.
The topic was: “Change is Evil— True or Mostly True?” (The venue switches every year, and the host club proposes the wording.)
George, one of the Futuro Club’s stars, was mid-lecture when I was distracted by a tug on my sleeve.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Judy, but I need your help with the vacuum cleaner.”
It was our cleaning lady. Actually, she owns her own cleaning service, but insists on doing our club herself because her son is a member.
Still, she should know I’m the very last person to ask about anything to do with a vacuum cleaner. Or any machine, really. Or cleaning!
“Yes, Mrs. Plumtree — is it urgent? Because I have to speak next, rebutting all the nonsense this man has spouted.”
“It’s just that you wanted the after-debate party in the game-room downstairs? That’s where the vacuum bag suddenly exploded, and dust went everywhere!”
“How bad could it be?”
“The pool table is gray instead of green.”
“Oh, dear. Give me a minute.” I asked my friend Iris to sub for me, and followed Mrs. Plumtree downstairs.
“It’s obvious you’ll need to change this bag,” I said. “Or what’s left of it. The filters, too.” I found supplies in the closet and handed her two of everything.
When I got back upstairs, George was just concluding:
“Yes, change can be hard. When America switched from horses to cars, it put buggy-whip makers out of business. But the automotive industry created thousands, even millions of jobs in this country, for workers and their families. Not to mention the roads were cleaner and sweeter without all that manure.”
Everyone laughed.
‘I’ve got this,” I whispered, taking the mic back from a relieved-looking Iris, and rising to speak.
“Yes, indeed,” I said. “Maybe the air didn’t smell of manure, but it became actually dangerous to breathe, from all the pollution.”
“And when a new technology arises, it doesn’t just put people out of work. It robs them of dignity, too! Suddenly, nobody cares what wisdom you may have accumulated in your life. No one cares that you should “make hay while the sun shines,” or “not count your chickens before they’ve hatched.” Suddenly, all that matters is pushing some buttons on a cell-phone, and Amazon does the rest.”
“Soon,” I continued, “you’re left talking to yourself about all of life’s questions. Don’t ask Alexa if your life has meaning; Alexa cannot answer that question.
“But I can. Soon, every single one of us may become obsolete. When that day comes, you will still be welcome at the Luddite Club…as long as you agree with our proposition!”
I sat down. But Mrs. Plumtree was back again. “I’m so sorry, but I still really need your help.”
This was beginning to scare me. Mrs. Plumtree is way smarter than me — she has a Ph.D. in Philosophy!
“I hope it’s something I can help with,” I mutter, hurrying after her.
“It’s about installing these filters. The box says ‘see Instruction Manual for directions’ — but I can’t find a manual anywhere.”
“Did you check the desk drawers?”
“Of course. I checked every file. I even looked in the safe!”
“How did you — never mind. I’m afraid I probably threw it out. Can you wing it?”
“I’d rather not. But” — and her face suddenly lit up. “I’ve got an idea. May I borrow your cell phone?”
“Okay, but….” I then watched, amazed, as Mrs. Plumtree used the phone to go to Youtube, where she found videos of someone installing our exact same model of filter and bag.
I was dumbstruck. Where had this been all my life? It was infinitely better than reading those old manuals! “I know,” said Mrs. Plumtree, seeing my face. “It’ll be our little secret.”
I went back upstairs. The Futuro’s president was finishing his team’s final speech:
“If change is always bad, answer me this: If we were meeting 150 years ago, instead of today, would you really be arguing for keeping chamber pots and privies, instead of newfangled flush toilets? Just admit that sometimes, change is for the better. I rest our case.”
I couldn’t tell anyone why, but I was happy when the final vote came out a tie. I was even happier to see how the game-room turned out — thanks to Mrs. Plumtree, and Youtube!
