Cell phones have finally replaced old Ma Bell’s home style clunkers and even this dinosaur has finally ditched her landline in favor of a smart phone (which is way smarter than its operator.)
I haven’t begun to learn all its uses but by the time I’m 70, perhaps I’ll be able to turn on my porch light before I get home from a party and deactivate my burglar alarm so I don’t wake up all the neighbors at 2 a.m. (That’s only happened once in last two years – the staying out until 2 a.m. – not the setting off of the burglar alarm. It happens all the time because I can’t remember all the security codes and secret passwords necessary to function in 21st century America.).
I’m also horrible about keeping up with my cell phone. I’ve lost it in the bed covers, underneath the sofa cushions and once left it in a shopping cart at Wal-Mart. I’ve left it at the beach, in Norma’s car and once while riding a roller coaster where I also lost my lunch.
The bad thing about losing your phone is that the finder has access to your entire life which could come back to haunt you in a day or two when they find all the “selfies” you took while trying to check a side view of your hair.
Personally, I think cell phones sometimes are an invasion of our privacy. In the old days you could just get in your car and drive around town to escape having to tell anyone what you’re up to. Now they can hear the machine running as you slip off to purchase a malted milk shake after swearing you would never indulge again in this lifetime.
Cell phone technology has progressed to the point they can practically poach a perfect egg and have Eggs Benedict waiting on your table for Sunday brunch. And cells get more streamlined with each passing model. They used to be the size of a debutante’s handbag and came in a suitcase. Now they are small and thin enough for you to slip them in your hip pocket and sit on them while unintentionally dialing up your Aunt Emma. She can listen in on your private gossip-a thon with your neighbor, Brenda.
Any day now someone will produce a phone we can have embedded in our wrists so all we have to do is tap to talk. That would certainly reduce the number of misplaced and lost phones. I wonder how many folks have left their “smarty pants” cell phones in their pockets and washed and dried them along with the blue jeans. They don’t like that.
I’m reminded of the late Don Foster, my old friend and Daily Times Leader and Starkville Daily News sports writer. He placed his phone in cold storage and we couldn’t reach him for days. While unloading his groceries he had accidentally placed it along with the broccoli and oranges in the fridge’s vegetable bin. Meanwhile we were trying to contact him about a glitch on the sports page – but the vegetables flatly refused to take the call.
And who hasn’t been horrified when they forgot to silence the thing and it rings in church. Everyone looks at you like the dunce you are. I can embarrass myself on my on, thank you very much.