Thursday, August 04, 2005
Lindbergh flew the Atlantic with no radio and nobody knew where he was until some fishermen saw his plane off the Irish coast, but I maintain constant contact as I roam the produce section shopping for honeydew melons. I used to feel superior to cellphone people and now I am one. And [now my phone is ringing], and it is my wife wondering about my plans for the day. I am fond of this little gizmo. Some people consider it an intrusion and goody for them, but I grew up in the sticks and know how oppressive silence can be and I am not romantic about isolation. I remember those flinty old guys in small-town cafes who wouldn't give you the time of day and I don't miss them at all. I miss my aunts. I think my aunts would've loved cellphones.
Ah, what a wonderful summary of cellular culture! And I don't mean the petri dish kind. This time.