I don't think anyone has any idea how disorientating tech can be until they've witness this for themselves. Also how hostile and large a divide tech creates that the industry doesn't give a damn about (I'm looking at you, Material Design and your crap low contrast fonts and lack of clear clickable buttons that has resulted in more support calls from my aging parents than probably anything else).
Anyhow, a neighborhood homeless man and I became friends and I'd help him out with $$ and food and drink from time to time. We'd hang out and I get to hear stories of all the crazy shit he'd seen in the past 40 years in the neighborhood, from growing up through the civil rights era and seeing the city burn in 68, to the lines of people around the block waiting to buy crack at Rayful Emmonds grandmothers house. He'd been in and out of jail, run with gangs, the full nine yards. After getting hit by a drunk driver on his way to holdup a liquor store to get money to buy his new baby diapers, he'd ended up on the streets with nothing but his stories and a bum leg.
Along the way, he told me about his wife and children, his stint at the Navy shipyards in Virginia Beach, and his childhood in North Carolina. He told me about how one day he'd love to travel back to his childhood home town and see his mother, who he'd purchased his childhood home for with the proceeds from his successful dealings at the shipyards.
One day, he mentioned he'd gotten some money and wanted to send his mother flowers, but he couldn't remember what the address was. I asked if he remembered how to get to the house, and he said he did, so I grabbed my laptop, opened up Street View in the center of the town and asked him which way to go.
I've never experienced quite such a reaction in my life. This was black magic fuckery to him and he thought I was using some secret government technology. I explained to him the general principles of it, and he just didn't believe it. Incredulous wouldn't describe a tenth of his reaction.
That reaction wasn't anything compared to when we finally found his mothers house. He couldn't believe that he was looking at the house he grew up in, had purchased for his mother and that he'd not seen probably 30+ years. He teared up looking at it and got quite emotional. I offered to find her phone number so that he could call her, but it was too much for him at the time, and he waved it off.
He eventually got housing through a city program, and I lost touch with him as he stopped frequenting the neighborhood.
Old Dirty, if you're still out there, I miss your company and stories and hope you're doing well!