Fast forward warning

Once again, the modern world has dragged Leah and me into its wake.

We happily jumped aboard soon after VCRs entered the mainstream, enjoying the fact we could record a television show and watch it at our leisure.

It also opened the home movie experience. We were among the crowd whose members actually paid to have the right to rent movies.

As the DVD player blazed new trails, we were quite content holding onto our VCR. After all, the DVD only played; it did not record. Sure, the quality was better, but we grew up watching grainy television.

Soon enough, however, we could no longer find recent movies released on VHS tapes as that section of video rental stores became smaller and eventually disappeared.

So, we added a DVD player some years ago ... I cannot remember exactly when ... and kept our VCR for recording off the television.

Next ...

Everyone else, it seemed, was already on a DVR – “Why don’t you just TiVo ‘Lost’ while you watch ‘NCIS’?” – but we held firm to our conviction to not get sucked in with the crowds.

Our daughter would go on and on about how useful and pleasant it was to be able to make sure they did not miss a favorite show, but they particularly liked the ability to pause even a live program whenever Charles came up with something he had to share with his parents.

That would be nice, I thought, but I was not sure we really wanted to acquire yet another technological dependence.

What pushed us over the hump came from an unsuspected party.

Leah’s mother got a DVR a few months ago. She had been frustrated by missing whatever soap opera she’s followed for decades and decided to fix the problem. Additionally, it gave her the power to stop a program if she needed to take care of something around the house or answer the phone.

“OK,” Leah said, “if my mother has a DVR ...”

A technician installed ours Friday and I immediately found a movie to record and place into storage for an evening when “there’s nothing on TV.” Meanwhile, we quickly became accustomed to its other features.

“What did he say?” or “That wasn’t a foul!” is followed by a quick rewind. The added benefit is we get to catch up by speeding through commercials.

Last night, we were watching “Chuck,” one of the few programs we both actually make an effort to see, when my phone rang.

Don’t tell our daughter I said so here, but she has an incredible track record for calling when we’re watching a program. This time, however, I clicked the pause button.

“We were about to do something,” she said, “but I told Zack I wanted to call you first. Then I realized you would be watching ‘Chuck,” but then I remembered you have a DVR now and you can pause it.”

Thus, she unwittingly admitted to a plan to use our DVR to her benefit.

Leah later suggested that a pause button in life could be helpful.

“I often think about sending a note to someone who is ill or to a writer I like, but I seldom get around to it,” she said. “It would be nice if I could just pause everything when the preacher mentions someone in the hospital and send them a get well card right then and there.”

Maybe, but would you finish the program if you keep pausing it?

I’ve heard too many people comment about filling a DVR to the point it will hold nothing more. They then must either find time to watch shows or delete without viewing them. The end result could be deleting segments of our lives without actually experiencing them, so maybe we’re better off keeping the control buttons on the remote.