Cellphones and Me

It continually shocks my students (and some other folks, too) that I have no cellphone beyond an old pay-as-you-go thingamajig that I’ve used on long trips in case of an emergency. It’s not that I’m a luddite; I’ve just never seen the point of actually having a cell in any normal sense. And, to be honest, I’ve started to take a bit of odd pride now and then in the fact that I’m surviving perfectly well without one (again, much to the shock of some folks).  This pride tends to kick in when I see how addicted folks are to the expensive devils.

We were at the outlet mall a few days ago, for instance, to purchase new sandals for the young master.  At one point I was watching Samuel play on some of those coin-operated doesn’t-do-anything-but-shake cars. Mildly bored, I looked around to people-watch.

In my line of sight, which was fairly extensive, the number of folks who didn’t have cellphones at their ears could be counted on one hand.  And Samuel and I were two of them. It was mildly disturbing. (How prescient was Bradbury’s seashells in Fahrenheit 451?)

Who the hell is everyone talking to?  What’s so important?

Well, it may be that I’ll soon find out.  The announcement of the iPhone 3GS might be enough to bring me into the cellular world.

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