Monday, March 19, 2012

Cellular Deficiency and Old Age

I lost my cell phone. I never lose my cell phone, well, almost never. It lives in a specially designed telephone pocket in my purse. It's a lovely little sleeve type pouch, just the right size and shape for a cell phone. It also deposits the phone just far enough down inside my purse that either I don't hear it ring, or I can't get to it in time to answer before the ringing stops.

Once in awhile, my phone moves around the house with me in the pocket of my hoodie. In fact, at this moment I really can't say that it's truly lost. I know my phone isn't far. I know it must be around because the last time I had it, I was right here in the house. Despite my advanced years, I have a very clear memory of turning it off, as I always do in the evenings. I just don't have any recollection of where it went after that. It's too bad I turned it off or I could have phoned myself and followed the tone. Even though I never lose my cell phone, there have been times, when I've called myself simply to enjoy the harmonic sound of my cell as it rings throughout the house. Then I'd rush to greet the phone, pretending it had been lost.

A lost cell phone is not that big a deal to me. My fingers and eyeballs are not glued to this piece of technology. I don't suffer from withdrawal when I enter a public place that requires turning the device off. Frequently, it's not even turned on. I don't play games, attempt to watch a sporting event, view movies, read facebook comments, or use any of the many fabulous "apps". Even if I wanted to, and I don't, I wouldn't be able to see those things well enough on such a miniature screen. I simply use my cellular telephone for occasional texting and for Mr. Bell's original purpose. Why is it that for many, this fails to be the primary purpose of this equipment? Status perhaps?

I do find that text messaging is a really useful tool for those who have adult children. I have learned that they eagerly answer texts when emails and telephone calls, especially from mom, are ignored. Why? Because their fingers and eyeballs are always glued to their cell phone, of course.

Oh, no! What if I actually have an important text message from one of my children? What if they have some important news to share? What if one of them won an all expense paid vacation to Tahiti and wishes to take mom as a thank you for her many years of sacrifice? What if there's a new job, a potential mate, or a new home on their horizon? I'd better find my phone!

As I retrace my steps, it seems hopeless. How can I not remember where I left this basic black inconspicuous item? Could I have set it down someplace? I dump out my purse. I search my office. I look in the t.v. room. I go to the kitchen. No luck. I'll check the bedroom. Not on my nightstand. Not in the bathroom. Then I have an idea. There's a cavern...a abyss...a spot where all lost things are eventually found. It's dark. It requires crawling. I need a flashlight. Alas! The missing has been found. I located my hand sanitizer spray, my favourite pen, my lost earring AND my cell phone. All were under the bed, beneath the bedskirt.

I eagerly turn on the phone, listening to the all familiar tone. I see the monkey sitting on the bench. (see Sept. 30, 2011 blog) I wait for the signal that I have new text messages. It never comes. I toss the phone back into my purse and carry on with the day.

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