I have always believed I was of the dying breed that could get along fine without a cell phone.
I have one, but as soon as I get home it goes on top of the chest-of-drawers as I empty my pockets. I don’t walk around the house with the phone glued to my hand and stuck to my ear.
Mine and Sandy’s kids drive me crazy doing that. What little family time we have is watching them sending out texts and replying, or just looking at items as they scroll across the screen.
That’s what’s wrong with today’s generation. They can’t communicate unless it’s through some sort of messaging system on their phones.
Sometimes, instead of leaving their rooms to talk to us, the boys will send a text to ask a question — from one room over. Or, they will just have every phone call on speaker thinking I want to hear who they are talking to as they pass by.
They seemingly have every imaginable app to stay up with their friends. I just don’t understand.
Until I upgraded a year or so back from the dinosaur flip phone age, my ancient piece of cell phone history was used for what it was designed for — calling. If someone sent a text, I would call them back because it was quicker than trying to decipher the letters on the numbers.
With my upgrade, all that changed. I actually can send a text a lot easier. It’s like typing on a typewriter and auto correct improves my spelling.
I said all of that to get to my point. After a long day last Tuesday that was to end with two meetings, my phone suddenly went missing. I remember answering a text from Sandy during the first meeting. But, when I went to call her after the second meeting finished, the phone was not on my hip.
I started panicking. I tried to backtrack to my first meeting, but the building was closed. How do I explain to my wife, whom I told I was at a meeting in another town, I’ve lost my phone?
That’s not a good situation to be in. That’s like trying to explain the perfume smell on a shirt. OMG!
I could not call anyone for help because all my contact numbers are stored in the phone. Luckily Sandy had a number in her phone that I could call.
Thankfully, the phone was found safe and sound right where I had placed it — on a desk at the office. All is good now. TY
• Rick Head is the editor of The Alma Times. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org