Editor's Note

I sent my 18-year-old daughter an e-mail the other day, and when I asked her if she got it, she rolled her eyes. "Nobody sends e-mails anymore," she said. "They text. Or post a message on my Facebook page."

Excellent, then. Except that I neither have texting on my phone nor do I know how to access her Facebook page. My guess is that I am somehow barred from her Facebook page.

How did I get to be so out of it so quickly, I wondered. Not even 15 years ago, my e-mail capability seemed cutting edge -- I knew hardly anyone with an e-mail address to try it out on. Not even 20 years ago, the idea of using computers for daily communication seemed like science fiction. And 35 years ago, it was possible to lose almost all contact with family and friends (save for a few lines written on that annoying, flimsy blue airmail paper) simply by living in Europe for a year. Even such events as the Watergate scandal communicated across the Atlantic in a muffled and tardy form. The closest thing then to continuous Web news bulletins from every news source on the planet was the poky arrival of the European edition of Newsweek, which I pored over as if it had drifted onshore in a bottle.

So it amused and astounded me to read about the students in the American University class who felt sorely abused by an assignment to do without any electronic media for (drumroll, please) . . . 24 hours. No cellphone, iPod, Internet, TV, Game Boy or even telephone from sunrise to sunrise. You can read about how that went on Page 20.

I don't want to sound unsympathetic here. Last time the power went out, everyone at my house discovered that we could live without the lights, the climate control, the refrigerator, even the TV. But not being able to sign on felt oppressive. No messages, no up-to-the-minute weather radar, no ball scores, no Googling movie reviews or old flames . . . We were completely disconnected.

Also, by way of mea culpa, we just traded in 20-year-old 100-pound cathode ray televisions for lightweight big-screen high-def LCD screens, and coaxial cable for fiber-optic. Now my teenage son thinks he's living in the Stone Age if he can't DVR his shows and watch them whenever and however he wants.

I tried to remind him of when he was little and a storm knocked out all power. We sat in the kitchen reading together by candlelight. When the lights came on, he said: "Dad, that was the best night ever. I wish it was like the olden days all the time."

But he must not have read that memo. Probably because I sent it by e-mail.

Tom Shroder is editor of the Magazine. He can be reached at shrodert@washpost.com.