In this brave new world, one of the saddest things lost is the telephone conversation. Remembering the days of corded phones, life needed to stop while we chatted with a new love or best friend. Drama or gossip, it was delicious and shared over the phone. The cord kept us grounded. Tethered. Conversations had a beginning, a middle, and an end. How many times we would wait for the phone to ring. How many times would we cry when it didn’t. So much drama existed around the phone, life and death included.
When our children were home, life on the farm was hopping. On weekends when I cooked for seven, the kitchen was a busy place around meal times. I would always have Best-ies checking in to see what weekend activities were planned. It was for those multi-tasking moments that I purchased a 20′ phone cord. It was great for allowing me a working range from stove to sink. From cooking to washing dishes. There I was tethered to the wall, yet able to move around the room. Those were days and conversations I wish I could have all over again.
Now, phones are an obnoxious necessity. Every phone should contain I.C.E. contacts, in case an emergency strikes. Phones capture our every activity in selfies. They know our locations in case of danger. They hold our daily calendars. Entertain us or our kids. All hold the all important TEXT messages. And we can still receive an occasional phone call.
When texting was new, VST thought I’d made up the word “texted”. Each time, he’d correct me, saying one should say, “I sent a text message,” or “I typed a message.” After years, he finally accepted that texting and texted were words.
The last text received from him was on March 30th, days before he died. We had spent the morning in Reno with T and K, getting a liver biopsy and paracentesis. Not a fun morning at all. He was sore, tired, and needed a rest when we got back home. I needed to take K to see WINTERPAST one more time as I continued with the purchase. So, K and I left him in the care of T, his son.
His last message to me read, “Where are you?” Looking at that message now, I wish I’d have just taken a nap with him. Held him a little longer. Not let him wake to find me missing. At that point, he depended on me for everything, and my absence was upsetting to his state of mind. His question was honest and heart felt, as we were always together. 24/7. That’s the way we rolled. Two-for-one. His message remains a haunting reminder of the question I ask often of him now. “Where are you?”
Texts should never be used for anything significant. Not for long dissertations about troubling things. About sadness or anger. They should never be a substitute for being there, or at least talking by phone. Sharing important feelings is one thing that sets relationships apart from random interactions. That’s the part that artificial intelligence just can’t get right. Words on a screen are not the correct way to handle the most important parts of life.
When I’m in “Barbie’s Jeep” driving, there are 10 choices of predetermined answers. From “Okay” to “I’m running late” with eight choices in between. That’s really what texts should be for. A little message that you are on your way, or may be late. Not a way to be “present” while you are really busy doing other things.
If you are lucky enough to have family and friends close, please call them the old fashioned way. Let them know you love hearing their voices. Listen for laughter as they delight in your call. Let them share audible tears with you if you need to cry. Be human, and talk. Distracted driving is something we should avoid. Distracted interactions is another. Pick up the phone and call. You won’t regret it.