I ran across this personal account of life in a Minnesota community without adequate access to the Internet. I am purposefully not trying to pinpoint the location or think about which providers he may have used. It’s really a story of what life is like without consistent broadband access and the frustration of having no solution in sight. This is a personal account but I have certainly heard community accounts that are as bleak.)

Yesterday at the Task Force they began a discussion on changing the broadband speed goals. I applaud the effort. But this story is a reminder that while that discussion is important – so is action today. (It sounds like the author lives in an area that received a Minnesota Broadband Grant – which means they could get access “late next summer or fall, and certainly by the following spring of ‘17”. So just imagine the timeline for his counterparts in communities without support.)

I will just post the beginning of the account from the Listening Stones Farm – it is well worth reading in full!

Moments like these give me cause to believe I may be a man of faith. So begins a writing that may see the light of day …  since its being published depends on the beaming up of our internet. I’m happy to report that yesterday we were connected most of the day, which was the first time we’ve enjoyed a full day of service in what seems like weeks. “Months” might be more accurate, but I write as a man of forgiving faith.

Despite becoming on a first name basis with our designated service rep, Chad, we awake each morning wondering if life on our farm will reach beyond our small prairie. We are at the mercy apparently of a universe beyond our blue planet, as explained by Chad. Sun spots. And this: “If you can see the Northern Lights, forget the internet.” I haven’t seen them here on the farm, yet we still lack a worldly connection. So sun spots and Northern Lights are among the culprits. So, too, are tree limbs, rain and fog, and the other day, the talkative young man suggested we keep the modem out of the sunlight. We moved it from the top of the printer where we had anxiously monitored the status lights, which blink like a Dallas disco … all except for the little designated light of wonder, which barely and rarely comes to a full summer green.