Eddie Adelman is an AP award-winning writer who lives in Belfast. His book of columns and short essays is called “Don’t Get Me Started.”

Recently, I watched the Ken Burns documentary on the life and times of the 19th century writer and naturalist Henry David Thoreau. I’m no historian or literary scholar, but what struck me was how preoccupied Thoreau was with the simple act of wonder. Getting lost in the wonders of nature, for however long, became an end unto itself for Thoreau.

His quote “What a piece of wonder a river is” certainly bears that out.

Thoreau’s years spent alone observing the natural wonders around him, and documenting his observations in a tiny cabin on Walden Pond, is now the stuff of legend.

All of that got me to thinking. What would Thoreau make of the information age we currently live in, and the instant gratification available with just the touch of a key? Would he wonder where all the “wonder” went?  And would he even own a cellphone?

I grew up in the 1950s when lying in the grass and looking up at the night sky with your best friend was the pure definition of wonder.

“How many stars are up there?”

“I don’t know. A lot.”

We were content to simply bask in the sheer wonder of it all. There was an unspoken joy in not knowing, which allowed our imaginations to run wild.

When I was older, I’d pile into a car with a bunch of friends and go on road trips. To pass the time, we’d argue over inconsequential things, like who was the best rock band? Or, the age old question — boxers or briefs? Or, who would win in a fight — a lion or a crocodile?

It reached a point where we no longer cared about answers because we were having so much fun, reveling in the camaraderie. Fun and camaraderie. Try getting that with Google Chrome.

Back then, when we needed definitive answers, there was always the encyclopedia. But that involved the drudgery of getting up off the couch, a forced march to the bookshelf, locating the correct edition, and then finding the right page for the answer.

But these days, who’s got that kind of time?

In 2026, it’s a whole other ballgame. Searching for answers the old fashioned way has been replaced by the instant gratification of the internet, which leaves no time for actual wonder. Why linger in wonder when the answer is right there at your fingertips? Literally.

Let me say I’m as guilty as the next person. Even as I write this, I’m hopping onto the internet for names, places, dates, spelling, synonyms, grammar, etc. And I’m painfully aware of the hypocrisy in that.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not questioning our need to find answers. I’m just saying that there’s a time and place for it.

Science, medicine and exploration are all based on finding the answers to big questions. Penicillin was a nice answer. And who can argue with indoor plumbing? Likewise, we might still believe the world is flat if Magellan wasn’t so hell-bent on finding the answer to that question.

But unless you’re on “Jeopardy,” do you really need to know the capital of Uzbekistan, or the depth of the Mariana Trench, or who invented the Slinky? Or, for that matter, how many stars there are in the night sky? Personally, I’m content with “a lot.”

Let’s face it. The internet (and now AI) isn’t going away any time soon, not as long as we keep feasting on this modern day tree of knowledge.

But sometimes I wonder how much better off we are, now that so much is knowable with the push of a key. And will we one day come to regret the loss of wonder that accompanies all that instant knowledge?

What would Henry David Thoreau make of all this? I can’t help but wonder.