Lewis: To connect we must disconnect
Back in my day, my parents did the unimaginable. They let us — 16-year-old kids — drive from Colorado Springs to Vail in the middle of winter to go skiing. We took a 10-year-old Jeep Wagoneer that could have broken down at any time, and we had no way to contact anyone. No cell phones. No GPS. Just a paper map and a thermos of hot chocolate. It sounds like a setup for a “Dateline” episode now.
Today, that might qualify as child endangerment.
But somehow, we made it — and more than that, we thrived in a world that, by today’s standards, was profoundly disconnected. When we drove over Vail Pass (which, by the way, used to never close), we were truly on our own. And yet, strangely, we might have been more connected then than we are now.
In 2025, we live in the most technologically “connected” moment in human history. We can reach friends, coworkers, or strangers across the globe instantly. We text instead of call, swipe instead of mingle, and scroll instead of visit. And yet, something essential feels like it’s gone missing.
Are we really connected — or just plugged in?
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Social connection should be booming. After all, we’ve invented more ways to meet people than ever before: dating apps, social media, multiplayer games, virtual reality meetups. But real-world relationships are declining. Marriage rates in the U.S. have dropped from nearly 80% in the mid-20th century to about 47% today. Birth rates are also at a historic low. And despite our hyper-connectivity, young adults are reporting record levels of loneliness and isolation.
According to a 2023 study by Gallup and Meta, 25% of adults worldwide said they felt “very or fairly lonely” — and the numbers were even higher among Gen Z. Meanwhile, the U.S. Surgeon General recently declared loneliness a public health crisis, citing increased risks of depression, cognitive decline, and even early death.
So what happened?
We replaced deep connection with constant contact. A birthday text or GIF has replaced the phone call or a visit. Social media gave us “likes” but robbed us of eye contact. We’re trading presence for proximity— intimacy for shallow familiarity.
Consider friendship. A recent survey from the Survey Center on American Life found that the number of Americans with no close friends has quadrupled since 1990. That’s not just sad — it’s dangerous. Close friendships have been shown to improve mental health, extend life expectancy, and provide crucial support in times of crisis. Yet many of us are more likely to text a meme than knock on a neighbor’s door.
I’m not romanticizing the past. Being stranded on the side of I-70 in a snowstorm with no phone wasn’t exactly idyllic. But there was something powerful about being forced into the present moment — into real, messy, human interaction.
You didn’t “DM” your friends. You met them.
You didn’t scroll through curated vacation photos. You went on the trip — and maybe got stuck in a ditch.
And when something went wrong, you didn’t post about it. You called someone, or they showed up. That was connection.
Today, we’ve built a world where we can filter, mute, unfollow, and ghost — never having to confront discomfort, disagreement, or the quiet beauty of silence. But in doing so, we may have disconnected from the things that matter most: relationships built over time, not bandwidth.
I’m not suggesting we ditch our phones and live off the grid. But maybe we could start small. Have dinner with someone and leave the phone in your pocket. Write a letter. Knock on your neighbor’s door instead of scrolling past their vacation pics.
Because real connection doesn’t buzz in your pocket or pop up in your feed. It takes time. It takes presence. And it usually begins when you look someone in the eye and say: “Hi, I’m glad you’re here.”
Mark Lewis, a Colorado native, had a long career in technology, including serving as the CEO of several tech companies. He’s now retired and writes thriller novels. Mark and his wife, Lisa, and their two Australian Shepherds — Kismet and Cowboy, reside in Edwards.
