When the Internet Goes Quiet, So Do I

A recent image(above) crossed my screen sometime ago claiming that two weeks without the internet can reverse ten years of cognitive aging. Like many viral claims, it was dramatic, oversimplified, and designed to stop the scroll. Still, it made me pause, not because I believe the promise, but because of the reaction it stirred in me.

The truth is, I don’t need two weeks without the internet to learn something about myself. A day without email is enough to make me uneasy. A few days without blogging or interacting with ChatGPT, and I feel unmoored. Not lost exactly, but restless, distracted, almost irritable. That realization says more about my relationship with the digital world than any study ever could.

At this stage of my life, the internet is not just a convenience. It is how I think out loud. It is where my curiosity still finds oxygen. Blogging gives shape to my days. ChatGPT gives me a thinking partner who never tires of my questions. Email keeps me tethered to the wider world. When those connections go quiet, I feel it in my body as much as in my mind.

Some might call that addiction. I don’t think that’s quite right.

What I recognize instead is engagement, deep engagement mixed with habit. Over time, the gentle tools that once served my creativity have quietly become the rhythm that structures my day. When the rhythm is interrupted, I notice the silence.

I’ve been reading about studies suggesting that stepping away from constant internet use can improve focus and attention, even making people perform like they did years earlier on certain cognitive tests. That sounds promising, but I also know myself well enough to say this: disappearing from the digital world altogether would not make me sharper. It would make me lonely. It would cut me off from the very practices that still make me feel useful, alive, and connected.

So I’m not chasing a digital detox. I’m looking for balance.

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with small, intentional pauses. I start the day without opening email. I write a few thoughts by hand before turning on a screen. I try to batch my online time instead of grazing all day long. I take short walks without my phone and let my thoughts wander without being immediately answered by a search bar.

These are not heroic acts. They don’t reverse aging or transform my brain. But they do something quieter and perhaps more important: they return a sense of choice. I’m reminded that I can step back without vanishing. That I can rest my attention without abandoning my voice.

Aging, I’m learning, is not just about loss. It’s about discernment. About deciding what still feeds you and what simply fills the hours. The internet, for all its noise and temptation, still feeds me, when I use it deliberately.

And so I continue to blog. I continue to write. I continue to converse with this strange, tireless digital companion. But I also practice letting the internet go quiet now and then, just long enough to hear myself think.  That, for me, feels like the healthiest connection of all.

A Closing Reflection for Fellow Travelers

If you are reading this in later life, perhaps you recognize a bit of yourself here too. We did not grow up with the internet, yet somehow it has grown into us. It connects us to family, ideas, memories, and purpose, sometimes more reliably than our aging bodies allow. Letting go of it entirely may sound virtuous, but it can also feel like letting go of relevance, voice, or companionship.

I don’t believe wisdom at our age comes from withdrawal. I believe it comes from discernment. From knowing when connection nourishes us and when it exhausts us. From allowing ourselves moments of quiet without turning them into exile.

So if you find comfort in your email, joy in writing, stimulation in learning something new online, don’t apologize for that. Just remember to leave a little room each day for silence, for reflection, for thoughts that don’t need to be shared or answered immediately.

Aging does not require us to unplug from the world. It simply invites us to choose more carefully how we stay plugged in. And that, I think, is a form of grace and gratitude.

Meanwhile, here's the AI Overview on the Above Topic

The phrase "When the Internet Goes Quiet, So Do I" reflects a contemporary sentiment about our dependence on digital connectivity for a sense of engagement or purpose

. It highlights how an unexpected internet outage can lead to a period of forced introspection and a realization of the world beyond constant online stimulation. 

Many people find that without the "constant noise" of social media feeds, notifications, and endless content consumption, there is a surprising stillness and calm in real life. This quiet space can reveal what is missing in one's life, often leading to a desire for real-world human connection, community, and shared moments that online interactions might only simulate. 

Instead of a feeling of loss, some use this period of silence as a cue to engage in offline activities:

• Reading more books or creating things.
• Exercising or pursuing hobbies (play bridge or mahjong).
• Reaching out to family and friends in person.
• Joining local group activities or classes ( art crafts). 

Ultimately, the sentiment suggests that while the internet connects us, it is the moments and actions offline that remind us of who we are and what truly matters. 

My Food for Thought for the Year:

AI won't replace you, but a person using AI will.

Lastly, here are some photos of Yesterday Activity, Bead Necklace that I participated for the first time

Proudly wearing my necklace creation

My Creation with My Crucifix Decor in my Bedroom

Thank You, Vanessa for the well-coordinated Activity.

America Without Immigrants-Then and Now

This posting is inspired from the NYT article on the same topic dated today, January 3, 2026.💚

America Without Immigrants — Then and Now

Reflections From a Filipino Immigrant Who Came in the 1960s

When my family and I arrived in the United States in the 1960s, America was on the cusp of a new immigration era. The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 had just been signed, abolishing old quota systems that had limited non-European immigration for decades. That law changed everything not just for us, but for the country. By opening the door to immigrants from Asia, the Philippines, Africa, and Latin America, it helped reshape the face of America in the latter half of the 20th century. 

Looking back, I see how vital immigrants were and still are to the American story. We didn’t come as tourists. We came as builders, caregivers, workers, students, and neighbors. We contributed to our communities in countless ways raising families, paying taxes, starting businesses, and enriching the cultural life of the places we called home.

Today, the New York Times article “What America Might Look Like With Zero Immigration” paints a stark picture of a country trying to shrink its immigrant population almost to zero. The early effects are already visible: employers struggle to find workers in construction and healthcare, school enrollments in some areas shrink, and everyday life slows in cities and towns once energized by new arrivals. The loss is more than economic it’s social and cultural too. 

Imagine an America that stops inviting the world in. What happens to families whose roots stretch back generations to distant shores? What happens to industries that long relied on newcomers to fill jobs Americans sometimes don’t want to do? What happens to diversity, innovation, and a sense of openness that once defined this nation?

In the 1960s, we believed in that promise. We were young, hopeful, and eager to contribute. I saw Filipino nurses caring for patients in hospitals long before they became recognized as essential caregivers. I saw friends start small businesses that became cornerstones of their neighborhoods. I witnessed how immigrant churches, festivals, and cultural traditions became part of the tapestry of American life.

Today’s debate often centers on economics and policy how many visas, how many workers, how many admissions. But the real question is more human: What kind of nation do we want to be? Do we want to build walls that narrow our horizons, or bridges that connect us to the world?

The NYT article suggests that without immigrants, America may be quieter, slower, and smaller in spirit. And I think back to my own arrival in a new land full of uncertainty but also possibility and I can’t help but feel that a country’s strength lies in its ability to welcome the dreams of those who choose it.

AI Summary of the NYT Article: What America Might Look Like With Zero Immigration💚

The article examines emerging signs of how the United States is changing as immigration flows slow dramatically under current policies aimed at sharply reducing the foreign-born population. One year into a strict immigration crackdown, sectors of the economy that traditionally relied on immigrant workers, from construction and landscaping to healthcare are beginning to feel labor shortages. Hospitals are struggling to recruit doctors and nurses from overseas, and children of immigrant families are no longer filling local schools in some towns. 

Efforts to increase visa fees, cut refugee admissions, and roll back temporary legal statuses have reduced net immigration. Behind these shifts is a broader debate about whether tightening borders might revive an earlier era of low immigration like in the 1920s, when the foreign-born share of the U.S. population fell sharply. But experts caution that fewer immigrants could clash with the nation’s aging population and workforce needs, affecting caregiving roles, business growth, and cultural life. The article emphasizes that immigration has become deeply woven into the social, economic, and cultural fabric of American life, and that halting it could leave gaps not easily filled by automation or native-born labor alone.

America without immigrants would face a shrinking population, 

labor shortages (especially in essential sectors like food and tech), stagnant economic growth, and increased strain on social security, while immigrants have historically shaped American culture, filled crucial labor gaps, fueled innovation, and contributed significantly to the tax base, shifting from manual labor in the past to high-skilled roles today, fundamentally altering and enriching national identity through diverse foods, music, and arts. 

Finally, My Photos of the Day:

My Two Jade Plants in My Patio in Bloom

Grand Daughter Elaine and Husband Kyle with son,  Beau David and Grandson Ian with Wife Sara with son, Graham Everette - My two Great Grandsons!   

Me and My Crystal Necklace- Activity Today- Kudos to Vanessa!  

Prepare for the Supermoon Tonight

Prepare for a bright start to the year. On the night of January 3, the first full moon of the year will rise. Known as the Super Wolf Moon, this event occurs because the moon is at perigee (closest to Earth). Expect it to look approximately 14% larger and 30% more luminous than a micromoon.

Origins of the Name: The title comes from ancient traditions observing wolves howling in the dead of winter. While once attributed to starvation, biology tells us these wolves were using the moonlight to define social boundaries and coordinate hunting parties.

Don't Miss Jupiter: The bright, jewel-toned light appearing next to the Moon is the planet Jupiter. It is currently reaching opposition, meaning it is at peak visibility and brightness, creating a beautiful sight alongside the lunar surface. For the video:

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1371509871439451

A cool #cosmic coincidence kicks off 2026! The year’s 1st full #moon, on January 3, is a #supermoon. That means the moon is full while near its closest point to Earth for the month. And this supermoon will coincide with Earth’s closest approach to the sun, known as perihelion. That means Earth, the moon and sun will be aligned and unusually close as the new year begins. This triple event is rare. What are its effects? We know supermoons appear noticeably brighter.

Watch the video here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWyVqhi_1Qc

Meanwhile, here's the Northern Light from Finland- A Perfect Angel Wings

https://fb.watch/EmUVxmZhLe/

Finally, the top five news of the Day:

U.S. Airstrikes in Venezuela; Maduro Captured — The U.S. carried out large-scale military strikes inside Venezuela, and President Donald Trump announced that Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife have been captured, marking a dramatic escalation in U.S.–Venezuela tensions. The move has sparked global reactions and potential international law concerns. Reuters+1

World Reacts to U.S. Strikes on Venezuela — International governments and global leaders are responding to the reported U.S. military action and capture of Maduro, with a mix of condemnation, calls for UN involvement, and diplomatic criticism. Reuters

FBI Disrupts Alleged New Year’s Eve Attack — U.S. authorities announced the disruption of a planned New Year’s Eve attack. A man was charged with attempting to provide material support to ISIS, underscoring ongoing counterterrorism efforts. Department of Justice

New York City Establishes Office of Mass Engagement — NYC Mayor Zohran Kwame Mamdani signed an executive order creating a new Office of Mass Engagement to expand public participation in city government. New York City Government

PDC World Darts Championship Final — The 2025/26 PDC World Darts Championship final is taking place, featuring a historic matchup and widespread interest in the darts world. 

Tournament of the Roses Parade- Ruth and Dodie

Dodie and Ruth are in these Crowds of Spectators 

From the FaceBook Page of Dodie Katague

Bucket list item - Working on a float at the Rose Parade in Pasadena.

Here is Ruth glueing straw bits on the underside of the South Dakota float.

0:16 / 0:16

I did the same. But it’s not all glamorous. Here I am cutting roses and putting them into vials. 

Hundreds of them. Here are the short videos of Ruth and Dodie, helping on the decoration of one of the Floats-Mount Rushmore.

0:20 / 0:31

The Tournament of Roses Parade: A Century of Beauty, Community, and Renewal

Every New Year’s Day for more than a century, the Tournament of Roses Parade has unfolded down Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena, offering a promise of beauty, color, and continuity. I have watched the parade for many years now, and like countless others, I’ve come to associate it with fresh beginnings, winter sunshine, and the quiet comfort of tradition.

This year, however, was different.

Despite the steady rain—a rarity for Southern California—the parade felt especially alive and deeply personal. My oldest son, Dodie, and his wife Ruth were part of the story, not as spectators along the curb, but as participants behind the scenes. Through a three-day vacation package in Pasadena, they joined hundreds of volunteers who help decorate the floats—applying flowers, seeds, leaves, and natural materials by hand, just as the tradition demands. Their reward: front-row seats on parade day and the satisfaction of knowing they helped bring one of the floats to life.

That personal connection brought me back to the origins of the Tournament of Roses itself.

How It All Began

The Tournament of Roses Parade began in 1890, when members of Pasadena’s Valley Hunt Club wanted to show off California’s mild winter climate to friends back East. While much of the country was buried under snow, Pasadena was blooming with flowers. Their solution was both simple and inspired: a parade of horse-drawn carriages covered in roses and other flowers, followed by outdoor games like polo and tug-of-war.

The idea caught on quickly.

By the early 1900s, the parade had grown into a civic event, complete with elaborate floral floats and national attention. The Tournament of Roses Association was formally established to oversee the event, ensuring it would remain noncommercial, community-centered, and rooted in volunteerism—values that still define it today.

The Art and Labor Behind the Floats

What many viewers don’t realize is that every float must be entirely covered with natural materials. No paint is allowed. Every color, every texture, every detail is created using flowers, petals, seeds, bark, grains, and leaves. This requirement transforms float decoration into an act of collective artistry and patience.

In the days leading up to the parade, thousands of volunteers—locals and visitors alike—gather in decorating barns across Pasadena. Families, friends, retirees, students, and travelers work side by side, often through the night, placing flowers one by one. In that sense, Dodie and Ruth’s experience places them squarely within the heart of the parade’s tradition: ordinary people creating something extraordinary together.

A Parade That Endures

The Tournament of Roses Parade has survived world wars, economic depressions, pandemics, and now another rainy New Year’s Day. Rain may dampen the street, but it never diminishes the spirit of the event. If anything, it highlights the resilience of those marching, riding, playing music, and yes—those who labored quietly beforehand to make it all possible.

For me, watching the parade this year carried a new layer of meaning. Knowing that my son and daughter-in-law helped bring one of those floats to life reminded me that traditions endure not just because they are beautiful, but because each generation finds its own way to participate.

A New Year’s Reflection

The Tournament of Roses Parade is often described as a celebration of hope and renewal. This year, I felt that more deeply than ever. In the rain-washed streets of Pasadena, amid flowers carefully placed by many hands—including those of my own family—I saw a living reminder that history is not something we only watch. Sometimes, it’s something our children help build.

And that, to me, makes this year’s parade unforgettable.

Here are some of the photos, I took from My TV this morning: