I saw a hysterically funny picture of a cat with its hair all standing on end, a contorted look of deathly panic on its face. And the caption read: how I look when I leave home without my phone.
I laughed out loud. There was an expression of despair in that feline’s face. And I realized, with sadness, how desperately attached, or should I say enslaved, we are to our personal mobile devices.
I suddenly think of my eldest grandson, who today has a child of his own, asking me when he was eight, “Lola, who is older, you or Snow White? And did you have telephones when you were a little girl?”
It was both amusing and annoying at the time. But we all had a good laugh about it.
Then and now
I marvel at how today we can communicate with one another, across the oceans, instantly and for just a fraction of what it used to cost.
Way back then we had to place costly person-to-person, long-distance calls to contact someone who lived halfway across the world. More often than not the connection was garbled. There were strange noises.
But what a joy it was to make that connection and hear that beloved voice across the wires. I used to imagine that the noise was only the sound of the ocean and the wind trying to intercept our sweet nothings.
And speaking of telephones, who out there recalls dealing with a party line?
It was not unusual for minor wars to be waged at home within the family for a chance to use the phone. We did not have free reign. Not like today’s children with their own gadgets. But to have to share a line and time with some stranger was a bit hard to take. And yet there was an unwritten etiquette that overruled our impatience and dictated courtesy at all times.
And so we managed to take turns and it all worked out fine.
Except, of course, when someone decided to listen in on your conversations in a shameless invasion of privacy. You could hear the gnashing of teeth.
There was then no social media where one could ventilate his frustrations or expose dirty laundry to the four winds.
Then there was push-button dialing and we were thrilled. We thought that was the unbeatable top in telephone technology.
And then came the time we could ignore the nosy operator and dial direct. Oh my, that was near magic.
By the way, I haven’t seen too many phone booths lately. Both here and in the US. I guess it has outlived its usefulness. That idea gives people my age a twitch of trepidation. Am I an old phone booth?
But where does Clark Kent do his “quick change” these days?
Fast-forward to 2018.
Today, with just one click, my smartphone knows who I want, remembers the name and number, and presto, I am in touch. I can also just whisper the name of whom I want and that little busybody called Siri gets the job done.
Will wonders never cease?
In the old days we didn’t know who was calling us. We only found out when we picked up the receiver. Today, there are no surprises. Also, the person you call knows it is you and has a choice to accept, decline, reject or ignore. Ouch!
And while he makes up his mind whether or not to answer, your call waits in suspended animation as it were, and keeps on ringing. And then a voice says, “The number you dialed cannot be reached” or “is out of coverage area.”
Progress?
So much has happened in the past few decades. What used to be the figment of someone’s imagination has now come to pass. We have gained so much ground in technology.
But alas, what have we lost?
Have you seen today’s young (and often not-so-young) people gathered around a table for coffee or tea? Their noses are buried in their devices. They hardly look up or at one another, much less notice who is next to them. They just sit there and mindlessly sip their beverage of choice, staring at their screens and tapping out their messages.
I was chatting with some friends the other night and we agreed that perhaps being so totally connected has made us forget the beauty and wonder of human connection. Significant conversations have been set aside by the culture of our staccato-abbreviated messages, empty chatter that cannot convey deeper feelings.
It is a shame that we have discovered yet another way to not listen. Our response to a friend in need is a quick text, maybe a charming emoticon. When there’s a problem with someone, it is easier to “unfriend” him than to try to fix what is wrong.
Let’s look at the positive side. We now operate in a global arena. We can create a network all over the world, despite distance and time. This is true.
But our hearts must be right.
There are desperately lonely people around us. Put your phones away. Look up. See for yourselves.
Let us not forget there is strength in the sweetness of a voice, in the tender touch of a hand.
In the words of Leo Buscaglia, “Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.”