By James Banakis | January 23, 2026

As we close out the first quarter of our 21^st century, I sometimes feel like a bewildered visitor from the last century.  I’ve survived the first 25 years of this long, strange trip always struggling to catch on to the next technology. It seems that once I master something it becomes outdated, and every year the obsolescence results in boxes of expensive digital cameras, sound equipment, and an endless sea of charging cables hopelessly tangled together and yes, obsolete.

Those of us who can remember back to New Years Eve 1999, recall it was like few others.  My entire family gathered with our friends and their families at a black-tie affair.  Yes, we wore ties then. Because we were entering into a new millennium, we all had an uneasy optimism. We took photos with cameras with Kodachrome inside. Much like Alice falling down the rabbit hole into Wonderland I felt everything was going to change. I just wasn’t sure how yet. In the story of Alice in Wonderland, Alice experiences deep emotional isolation. She cannot connect meaningfully with Wonderland’s inhabitants because ordinary reason and social interaction rules don’t apply. Welcome to my world, and maybe yours too.

The 21st century began with Steve Jobs returning to Apple and reinventing the failing company that he was banished from. I view this as the beginning of the digital age, and the collapse of interpersonal communication.  People in offices began sending emails to coworkers in the next cubicle instead of simply engaging.   Social media was supposed to be the vehicle to bring us all together. It turned out to be a toilet that harvests our personal information, separates us into camps, and spreads misinformation. Much like all revolutions, it began without fanfare.

It was about that time that FAX machines first appeared. Someone demonstrated feeding a document into the machine and I asked if it would get there by Tuesday. You see I was never on the cutting edge of rapid communication.  I also was still sending FAX documents when everyone else had moved on to something else.

In 2000 only 10 percent of the population had internet. I can recall having a meeting in about 1994 at Lettuce Entertain You about how we needed to prepare for the internet. One of the accountants said we needed an address, i.e. www.lettuceentertainyou.com. I asked if there was going to be a phonebook published with internet addresses. Phonebooks and Yellow Pages were still very important back in 1994, as were public pay phones.  Search engines and Google were unimaginable to people like me at the time.

On September 11, 2001, the massive terror attacks not only created mass perpetual paranoia but ushered in inhumane air travel. Welcome to people traveling in their pajamas with exotic support animals. Back in the 20^th century, I remember taking a date to Ohare Airport, having dinner at the Carsons Seven Continents restaurant.  We watched people disembark as we talked about what it would be like to travel to glamorous locales.  Do I dare say that airports use to be romantic.

My lifespan began at the second half of the 20^th century. It was a great time to grow up as an American. For most of that 50-year period, the economy was cranking. Getting a higher education was quite affordable, as was home ownership. The only thing that was woke was the snooze button on those pre-digital AM/FM clock radios. Everyone still had landline phones and remembered phone numbers.  Feminism hadn’t entered its self-destructive phase. Medical insurance was still affordable. I remember cars being beautiful. They were easy to repair, and fun to drive.  I fear in the future they’ll only be fleets of grey, self-driving Ubers.

One of the things I miss about those 50 years was that not a lot divided us. Politicians were outwardly polite to each other. Remember, even Bill Clinton ran on a law & order platform. He favored enforcing immigration laws.  Both Mayor Daley’s kept the city clean, safe and the old one reminded us, “The policeman isn’t there to create disorder, the policeman is there to preserve disorder.” We all knew what he meant.  He reminded me of my own father whose syntax became twisted when he got agitated. Most importantly we had fully functioning police and judges prosecuted criminals.

There has always been a nostalgia for simpler times, but I can’t remember my parents and grandparents wanting to return to World Wars or the Great Depression. The second half of the 20^th century was special, with stronger community, better music, funny comedians, epic movies, and less distraction. There was a sense of being present with people. Kids played outside and there was deeper in person socializing. I personally enjoyed being able to vanish if I wanted to and not be tracked by cell phones and security cameras. Dating was an agreeable social institution. Friends fixed up friends with friends. Real people not computerized dating sites and express date lunches.

Much as I personally miss the last half of the 20^th century, I know that soda fountains, dive-in movies, used bookstores, Marshall Field’s, and Sunday afternoon double headers are gone forever.

The thing I miss the most is corresponding with long, handwritten letters. You might think this odd, but there was something enchanting and intimate about going through my mail and reading and sending letters. That’s because we didn’t have 24/7 instant communication. Long distance phone calls were expensive and needed to be brief.  Good letter writers always told you what prompted them to write. There were those few days anticipation of waiting for a reply.

Letters were kept in a safe place and could be read again. There was a ritual ceremony as you studied the envelope, sat down in a relaxing place. Reading a letter was almost as if you heard the persons voice as was exhibited in old movies when someone silently reads and the writer’s voice is heard on the soundtrack. Enduring memories of saved love letters evoking the same longing 50 years hence could never occur with email.

About 8 years ago I attended a lecture by historian David McCullough discussing his book, The Wright Brothers. McCullough explained to the audience that a major part of his historical research was archived personal letters. If you’ve never read his biography on John Adams, the correspondence between John Adams and his wife Abigail is astonishingly insightful and tender.

After, McCullough took questions, and I asked him what historians of the future were going to do without access to personal letters, as they no longer exist. McCullough agreed that it would severely hamper future biographers. He joked that emails had become incriminating instruments in court cases, and therefore usually bland and ultimately deleted.  He remarked that schools have stopped teaching cursive thereby dumbing down our cognitive skills.

As we all enter the second quadrant of this century, we need to improve building genuine connections with each other. Technology offers convenience and speed, but we lose face to face contact. More than ever, we will need clear writing, empathy, and effective listening to maintain solid personal and professional connections.

Much like the late Brian Wilson told us from his epic 1966 album, Pet Sounds, “I guess I just wasn’t made for these times.” This 20^th century boy has a longing for less digital distraction.  I have a longing for a time of shared purpose.  When people physically gather, in a virtuous sense, good things happen.  There is something wistful about the entire country in the 1960’s committing itself of going to the moon and back on less computer power than exists in a single iPhone 11.

One thing is certain; cell phones and social media like all technology soon will be obsolete. Artificial Intelligence is as inevitable as electricity was at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893. Like it or not just step aside because it’s what will power at least the next 25 years. I shudder to think what bleak type of communication it conceives. Finally, I think I’ll let another 20^th century boy leave us with these words of wisdom.

Technology can be our best friend, and technology can also be the biggest party pooper of our lives. It interrupts our own story, interrupts our ability to have a thought or a daydream, to imagine something wonderful, because we’re too busy bridging the walk from the cafeteria back to the office on the cell phone.

– Steven Spielberg

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Jimmy Banakis is a life-long restaurateur.  He was an honorary batboy for the White Sox in 1964. He attended Oak Park River Forest High School, Nebraska Wesleyan University, and Chicago-Kent Law School.  He claims the kitchen is the room he’s most comfortable in anywhere in the world. He published an extremely limited-edition family cookbook. He’s a father and grandfather, and lives in Downers Grove Il.