Bed, Breakfast, and Besetting Change

Last updated on May 30, 2026

On my 70^th birthday, I am on my way to Pacific Grove with my wife Sheryl. The West Coast town has been my favorite vacation destination since we moved to California 17 years ago. It reminds me so much of Cape May, the beautiful town on the southern tip of New Jersey, filled with one of the largest collections of historic Victorian homes and hotels in the country. To celebrate my birthday, we headed to a bed and breakfast along the northern stretch of the Monterey Peninsula to spend a week to enjoy views of the bay each morning In a historic bed and breakfast.

When I made the arrangements, I was not surprised my interaction with the B&B was via instant messaging. The B&B “informed” me our experience would be better if I agreed to this form of communication. Okay, I thought, if they want to do it that way, I’ll bite.

Photo of the B&B "middle parlor." — Photo of the B&B’s “middle parlor.”

We checked in. The house, still sumptuously decorated for Christmas, was a feast for the eyes of a historic preservationist. I was looking forward to enjoying the house’s three parlors for morning coffee, Sheryl in her dressing gown and I my vintage smoking jacket, just as we done at B&Bs years before. I soon discovered house management policies that dampened my vision. The entire downstairs would be closed after 9PM and would not reopen until 8AM, when breakfast was served in a dining room in an adjoining building. Coffee, just enough for one cup each, was supplied in our rooms in a basic “pour through” form. If we needed anything for the morning, we had to get it from the front desk before 9PM. So much for taking in the parlors in my smoking jacket. Okay, I thought, tomorrow we will enjoy our morning coffee and view of the bay before going to breakfast to chat with other folks staying at the B&B.

“Everything changes.”

A younger family member said this a few years ago when I questioned the sanity of social changes forced upon us. She didn’t say this in the spirit of Gautama Budda, who recognizes the context of causes and conditions that create change. Rather, she spoke in a dogmatic tone that dismissed questioning any change. It was binary. You are for change or against it.

Her words came back to me at our first breakfast. We entered the large B&B dining room appointed with an array of separate tables, some for two, others for four. There were only two large tables in the room. I immediately noticed that all of the guests had seated themselves at separate tables.

Despite assuming we would sit with other guests and strike up a conversation, no one made eye contact, let alone asked us to join them. Their demeanor made it clear that no one was welcome to sit with them. We found a table for two. As the small tables filled, people were forced to the large tables. Without exception, they chose opposite ends of the table, ensuring that conversation with strangers wouldn’t happen.

I found the first morning’s breakfast unsettling. In every B&B we stayed in the past, we got to know – at least a little bit – the other guests who were staying in the house. Conversations were congenial and we often discovered similar experiences, shared destinations, even people we knew in common. Beyond whomever you came with, this dining room was a conversation desert.

“Everything changes.”

Does everything change? If it does, what is left to hold on to? Are no traditions to be honored? Is nothing, other than change itself, considered sacred?

Our second and third breakfasts at the B&B were repeats of the first. No good mornings, no conversation, no eye contact. I watched with amazement as three couples sat at the table for ten, one couple at the end and two directly across from each other, never once engaging in conversation. They just talked in pairs in low voices. This played out again at the 4PM wine serving in the parlor. Couples and small groups got their wine and sat away from others or took their wine back to their rooms.

This experience felt like something more than a happenstance gathering of introverts. I wanted to know what had shifted. Back in our room, I searched for clues.

I returned to the work of MIT social psychologist Sherry Turkle, who has researched the effects of online communication and sociable robots for two decades. In her book Reclaiming Conversation, Turkle reveals that digital devices have made us “forever elsewhere,” leading to a culture where we expect more from technology and less from each other. She notes face-to-face conversation is deteriorating because people prefer the low-risk “simulations” of connection found on screens, especially with the advent of AI companions. At a 2024 talk at Harvard Law School, she noted,

“It’s the greatest assault on empathy I’ve ever seen. In my research, the most common thing that I hear is ‘I’d rather text than talk.’ People want, whenever possible, to keep their social interactions on the screen. Why? It’s because they feel less vulnerable.” ¹

Add to this how groups of people, whether in person or online, decide an individual must be “held accountable” for what they believe, said, or wrote, even years ago. It’s not surprising people choose to “not stick out” among strangers. A recent study at Michigan State University’s College of Social Science reveals that individuals see expressing uniqueness as compromising their ability to fit in with others and may lead to being ostracized. ²

So, people have become wary of speaking to strangers. But technological convenience has exacerbated the trend into a new form of social inertia.

In March of 2025, Stanford psychologist Jamil Zaki co-authored a chapter in the 2025 World Happiness Report on the importance of social connection to the mental health of young people. When addressing “what gets in the way of social connection?” Zaki posited:

“Spending time in community is fantastic for our health, but that doesn’t mean it always comes naturally. People choose to spend much more time alone than in years past, a trend that’s especially strong among young adults. To me, this signals a sort of social inertia. We can one-click order meals and nearly any product, practice yoga on YouTube, and even pray through an app. Communal activit[ies] don’t have to be done in community, so we stay home. Going out has become like working out: we feel better after doing it, but it takes energy to get started.”

Zaki goes on to note how people underestimate how warm, open-minded, friendly, and trustworthy others are compared to when interacting in person. He concludes:

“On the dark side, cynical assumptions cause us to avoid the very social interactions that could make us happier. On the bright side, when we overcome inertia and take a leap of faith on other people, pleasant surprises are everywhere.” ³

It also turns out the hospitality industry, including this B&B, accommodates and fosters this social inertia. Places to stay have re-engineered the entire experience to require fewer interactions with real humans and more interaction through “an app,” thus the B&B’s admonishment that our experience would be better if I used instant messaging. A better experience it was not.

“Everything changes.”

If everything changes, how can that be good? The very belief embodies the cobra effect, the legendary example of unintended consequences. Anyone who has worked in application technology should be familiar with the concept of regression testing. Software changes when new features are added and identified defects are fixed. Each of those changes are then tested for effectiveness. Did the changes to the software do what they were supposed to do? Every software testing team knows an additional round of testing must be done. The team rigorously tests the unchanged features of the application. Did the upgrade break any existing features, including those most critical? This is called regression testing. Many times, regression testing reveals the upgrade created unforeseen new defects.

Regression testing is a real-world practical example of the reality of the nature of change and how change should be approached. Some changes are good. Some changes are bad. Some changes are disastrous. The Design and Development teams are charged with making only those changes which yield good consequences while making no changes to others. Positive change, by definition, must include many things that do not change.

reproduction portrait of Emilie Vernet, daughter of French painter, Nicolas-Bernard Lépicié. — Portrait of Emilie Vernet, daughter of French painter, Nicolas-Bernard Lépicié (reproduction).

On our fourth morning at the B&B, as we made our way to breakfast, we stopped on the stairs to gaze at a reproduction portrait of Emilie Vernet, daughter of French painter, Nicolas-Bernard Lépicié. Every morning and every evening, Emilie smiled sweetly at us with welcoming eyes. Other than my wife, she was the warmest person I encountered in the house.

In the dining room, we chose to sit at one of the large tables, not far from an elderly gentleman, sitting alone looking at his phone. After about five minutes of both of us occasionally looking in his direction, he finally put his phone down and greeted us. His wife had slept in, but he expected her to join him. We enjoyed a congenial conversation until his wife arrived. We exchanged introductions and before she sat down, a table for four near the window vacated. She asked him to move with her. This turned out to be the only interaction with another guest during our entire stay.

Photograph of the B&B's empty dining room.

reproduction portrait of Marie-Jeanne Phlipon by French painter, Gustave Jean Jacquet — Portrait of Marie-Jeanne Phlipon by French painter, Gustave Jean Jacquet (reproduction).

The next morning, we made our way to breakfast a bit later. I nodded to Emilie as we passed by her on the staircase, grateful for her sweet smile. This time, we entered an empty dining room and I thought to myself, “would it have made any difference if it was full?” I felt the presence of a pair of eyes and turned to see a reproduction portrait of Marie-Jeanne Phlipon by French painter, Gustave Jean Jacquet. Unlike our fellow guests, Marie-Jeanne made engaging eye contact.

What does it mean when portraits on walls display more congeniality and warmth than people in real life?

I continued my research on this phenomenon and encountered the term “third place,” popularized by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in The Great Good Place. Oldenberg defines third places as informal, neutral gathering spots, such as cafés, parks, barbershops, libraries, community centers, etc., where people can meet, chat, and create a sense of community outside the first place of home and second place of work. According to an entry in NIH’s National Library of Medicine, “Third places are integral parts of neighborhood landscapes and associated with quality of life, well-being, and health.” ⁴ And yet, by recent accounts, they are disappearing. Why this is happening is being debated. Blame has been attributed to the Pandemic, the influence of technology, urban design and zoning, economic factors, and even the fear of being surveilled. At the same time, I’ve observed that people, especially young people, will only seek out a third place if it happens to be “on their path” to and from home, school or work.

For years, we have enjoyed “third places” without ever knowing them by the term. We knew them as ballrooms, churches, event receptions, club rooms, concerts, picnics, and national holiday observances. These places, in which people met each other in person, have been falling out of favor as “things of the past.” If third places are disappearing, it’s likely because people are abandoning the social institutions which make them happen – yet another unintended consequence of change.

A salient example is Van’s Hall in Delta, Utah. It was the colorful second-story invention of the late Billy Van De Vanter, still standing on Delta’s Main Street above empty storefronts. This was not some stereotypical grand ballroom frequented only by the wealthy. Like many dance halls of the mid 20th Century, it was a third space for everyday working people who went there to dance and socialize.

Photograph of Van's Hall during restoration efforts. — Van’s Hall, with restoration work ongoing. ⁵

Delta resident Laurie Griffiths, quoted in a 2015 Salt Lake Tribune article stated:

“We get so many veterans from all over the state coming here. So many met their wives there and danced there. Tears run down their faces. We’ve made so many friends by taking them up there. They tell stories. … Everybody who sees that building is in awe of all of the art and architecture in there.” ⁵

The future of Van’s Hall as a third place remains uncertain. It exists now as a liminal space, empty of present-day people yet still rooted in its colorful history and memories of the elderly, decreasing in number every year. A mere two decades after the heyday of dance halls, third spaces in small towns like Delta diminished to be replaced by the explosion of shopping malls. Now, only two decades after their heyday, shopping malls are being abandoned, becoming their own liminal spaces. The change from third place to liminal space has become so fast and widespread, videographers have created an entire genre of “urban explorer” video logs documenting the ever-increasing number of abandoned liminal spaces.

Photograph of the abandoned Charlestowne Mall. — The Charlestowne Mall in late May, 2014, St. Charles, Illinois – a liminal space eerily empty of people, yet still existing as if people should be there. ⁶

Towards the end of our stay, as I looked out at the beautiful vista from our room, I realized I no longer recognize the world I’m living in. It wasn’t the view in front of me. The waves, clouds, wind, day, night, sunlight, rain, even birds and animals — they all behave in ways I’ve recognized since childhood. It’s people and their strange inexplicable predilection for worshiping “change” that I don’t recognize. Change, now identified with a capital C, has become inextricably linked with progress. People define their organizational and personal mission statements with the phrase, “change the world.” It’s the new 21^st Century mission to be fulfilled with a level of impatience fitting a toddler. Boundaries, absurdly even those defined by nature, are to be broken in the service of this mission. You can become any biological creation your latest whim desires. You can create any form of personal relationship and family that suits your preferences, and change them into something else later when you tire of them.

I accept that some change is inevitable. But why turn it into a dogmatic sacrament of secular life? Change can be defined as something becoming something else or being replaced by something else. But, this doesn’t mean it’s always good for us. History is replete with examples of changes that turned out to be terrible and contemporary life continues to feed more examples to the historical record, unsurprisingly omitted in popular culture as uncomfortable facts.

Everything changes?

No. Not everything should change nor should it be assumed to be good. The evidence is accumulating. It is arguable that unchallenged change in the 21^st Century has brought forth a plethora of unintended consequences – the cobra effect that now challenges our happiness.

So, I now propose a change. Let’s shift direction and change things back that should not have been changed to begin with. And, we won’t find the solution through technology. As Sherry Turkle wrote in 2018:

“We want to believe that if technology has created a problem, technology will solve it. But in this case, when our thoughts turn to emotive robots or iPhone apps, we are forgetting the essential. We are the empathy app. People, not machines, talking to each other. Technology can make us forget what we know about life. It is not too late to remember, to look up, look at each other, and start the conversation.” ⁷

To put Sherry Turkle’s call to action into practice, Sheryl and I are moderating a six-part discussion series titled Rekindling Neighborliness, based on ideas developed by Parker Palmer’s Center for Courage and Renewal. In a monthly gathering of 22 people, we will read and discuss stories on reclaiming conversation, practicing kindness, extending respect and civility, extending grace, giving of our presence, and seeking what we have in common. We will do this in person, face to face, in conversation, structured in a manner that practices the very topics being discussed. We will leave politics and ideology at the door, our devices turned off and tucked away. We will personally welcome each other. We will engage in conversation with the charge of intentionally listening when people speak as well as speaking our truth in ways that respect others. When we have questions, we will ask them as honest open questions that don’t lead or prescribe answers. And, we will observe deep confidentiality.

If change for the sake of change is the sacrament of a new secular religion, it’s high time for some heresy. Conversation, kindness, respect, civility, grace, and finding common ground are sacrosanct virtues. They have been around for centuries, taking root and growing through the efforts of humanity’s greatest gardeners. The media – social, main stream, and alternative – have become mostly “outrage machines” that divide us and destroy relationships.

Instead, let’s choose to lead our own lives, away from the media’s click bait, and find our way back to connecting with each other through those sacrosanct human virtues which should never be sacrificed on the high altar of besetting change. ❖

Author’s Notes

I used a couple of terms in this piece with which some readers may be unfamiliar.

The Cobra Effect

The origin of the term comes from an anecdotal yet plausible story from the British Raj in India. According to the story, the presence of highly poisonous cobras was getting so bad in the city of Delhi, the government put out a bounty on cobras, which was confirmed by bringing its dead body to the authorities. This led to people breeding cobras, killing them, and taking them to the authorities to make money — decidedly much easier and more profitable than hunting cobras on the streets. Once the government realized that this was happening, they cut off the reward for dead cobras. The “cobra breeders,” realizing that their easy money was curtailed, released all of their captive cobras. The government’s attempt at putting out a bounty on cobras resulted in the unintended consequence of making the cobra population even worse.

Besetting

Besetting is an old word which originates from the 16th century. It is derived from the Old English “besettan” (to surround) and Middle Dutch “besettinge.” It signifies a persistent, habitual temptation that surrounds, entangles, or traps a person. Merriam-Webster defines it as “constantly present or attacking.” Its closest synonym is “obsessive.” I chose it over obsessive because obsessive tends to have more of a connotation of personal behavior. I felt that besetting more accurately communicated our modern culture’s persistent, habitual predilection for changing everything.

Regarding Inline Links

As Nicholas Carr writes in The Shallows, What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains:

“Links don’t just point us to related or supplemental works; they propel us toward them. They encourage us to dip in and out of a series of texts rather than devote sustained attention to any one of them. Hyperlinks are designed to grab our attention. Their value as navigation tools is inextricable from the distraction they cause.” ⁸

In recognition of this important point, I have decided to provide citations and links to related resources here at the bottom. Even if it’s online, let’s return reading to being a sustained experience without the constant distractions of links that scream, “go here!”

References

‌Pazzanese, Christina . “Lifting a Few with My Chatbot.” The Harvard Gazette. Harvard University, March 27, 2024. https://doi.org/https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2024/03/lifting-a-few-with-my-chatbot/.
DeJong, Shelly. “New MSU Study: Fewer People Want to Stand Out in Public.” MSU Today. Michigan State University, August 7, 2024. https://doi.org/https://msutoday.msu.edu/
Zaki, Jamil. “Why Is Social Connection so Hard for Gen Z?” Stanford Report. Stanford University, March 20, 2025. https://doi.org/https://news.stanford.edu/stories/2025/03/social-connections-gen-z-research-jamil-zaki.
Finlay, Jessica , Michael Esposito, Min Hee Kim, Iris Gomez-Lopez, and Philippa Clarke. “Closure of ‘Third Places’? Exploring Potential Consequences for Collective Health and Wellbeing.” National Library of Medicine. National Library of Medicine, November 14, 2019. https://doi.org/ 10.1016/j.healthplace.2019.102225.
Wharton, Tom. “Whatever Happened to … Van’s Hall in Delta?” The Salt Lake Tribune. The Salt Lake Tribune, August 6, 2015. https://doi.org/https://archive.sltrib.com/article.php?id=2725629&itype=CMSID#gallery-carousel-446996.
User:, Didym. File:Charlestowne Mall in Late May 2014, before Construction for The Quad St- Charles. 2014. Photograph. Wikimedia Commons, June 17, 2014.
Turkle, Sherry. “The Assault on Empathy.” Behavioral Scientist. Behavioral Scientist, January 1, 2018. https://doi.org/https://behavioralscientist.org/the-assault-on-empathy/.
Carr, Nicholas. 2011. The Shallows, What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Company.

Cover Photo: Panoramic photograph I took of the sunrise from our room in the B&B.

Author’s Notes

Regarding Inline Links

References

Further Reading and Resources

JIm

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