When I was a child, technology wasn’t as widespread as it is now. I was born in 1998, and I was 4 years old when the Dot.com bubble occurred. Comparing myself with younger generations, I can clearly see the difference with those born in the digital era.
I am glad to be born in a time when playing didn’t mean sitting in front of a screen; rather, we enjoyed bringing our creativity to life by playing in open spaces or painting. At that time, especially in the small town where I was born, technology was seen with skepticism and families preferred to spend valuable time with their children.
I am Italian, and in our culture the link among families is strong. For us it is very important to spend time with grandparents, listening to their stories or playing table games with them. I spent part of my childhood with my grandmother. She loved to teach me how to cook traditional Italian recipes, and I can still remember the smell of the fresh ragù sauce made with tomatoes from our neighbor’s garden.
Why am I telling this story if I started by talking about technology? The purpose here is to tell the story of my first approach to the digital world from a different perspective, highlighting details that the new generation might have lost.
I didn’t have access to digital devices until I was 10 years old, first because my parents saw only drawbacks in them (I come from an old-school family), and second because, at that time, the town where I grew up was not really open or informed about technological development. I didn’t know much about it; I just remember asking my parents to buy me a new PlayStation, the first one, but they didn’t want to.
I need to stop the story and to say… honestly? I am glad of it. At that time, I was mad at them for this, but now I can just say thanks. They gave me the opportunity to fully enjoy my childhood in an open space, otherwise I would have probably stayed at home playing with it.
By the way, a friend of mine had a PlayStation and once in a while we used to meet to play Tekken. I still remember sitting in front of the old TV, holding that grey controller with both hands, carefully choosing which character I wanted to fight with. Each one had a different style, look, and story, so part of the fun was deciding who to pick before the match even began.
Sometimes I just chose the strongest-looking fighter, other times I went for the one that seemed the most stylish. Watching them battle on screen felt magical back then, and I loved pressing all the buttons to see what moves they could make. It wasn’t just a game, it was an adventure—and a little ritual that made us feel completely absorbed in that pixelated world.
Telling this story makes me feel sad; it seems to be another world compared to today’s children, who hold a device before learning how to walk. What for us was a magical instrument to share with friends is now a must-have. Whoever doesn’t have it, or whose family cannot afford it, is seen as an outsider.
I don’t know what growing up in front of a screen means, but I can say that I am glad to be born in an era in which relationships between people, especially in childhood, were more valued. Because access to technology was restricted, the value given to it was also different.
With the smell of fresh pasta in my head and a good memory of the old PlayStation 1, I leave this reflection with the hope that new generations will raise their children with more consciousness, reducing the use of devices and prioritizing valuable time with family and friends in open spaces.
Even if we are creating a new reality, as human beings it’s important to keep in mind where we come from.
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