There’s weird things to take pride in as an adult. You know, those little indicators of stability like maintaining the same cell phone number for over 2 decades I’m not sure what made me think of that this morning. Maybe I was looking hard for some random win to assign myself, but for whatever reason; it popped in my head.
The phone number I have used to ring only very rarely to a receiver attached to a curly-q cord weighted by a battery that was heavier than a small infant. The phone only worked when plugged in to the car. Particularly for me, a sensible previous rental purchase Pontiac Grand Am.
I couldn’t tell you one single phone call I made or received on that behemoth, but I carried it diligently as though something very important could need my immediate attention at any time. I’m also sure that I carried it in to my job to prevent theft. Along with the face plate for my Alpine stereo.
I’m sure I justified my purchase and soul-stealing monthly fees in some completely logical way, but I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that part of it was just because I wanted to be cool.
Bag phones were a technological bridge. Before them, the next coolest thing a regular human could afford was a cordless house phone. Or for the really lucky, a second phone line. Make no mistake, cordless phones changed the world. I remember how the harvest gold kitchen phone cord could snake all the from it’s very important perch near the breakfast bar all the way to the hallowed space of my parents’ laundry room. You could certainly be on the phone, tethered to the wall, but still able to cook my favorite after school snack (a fried grated potato with ketchup and mayo).
The phone at the other end of my parents’ Amen Lane home was in their bedroom. It was a rotary dial desk model of a bone color. It’s freedom benefit was the cord that connected it to the wall behind their dresser was probably 30 feet long. That phone was carried all the way to behind my bedroom door for many a chat and more than a few prank calls. “You hang up.” “No, you hang up.” “I’m looking at the moon, are you looking at the moon?”
In these days, car phones were something only the stupid rich had. They closest I’d come to seeing one was on Dukes of Hazzard. In some episodes, Boss Hogg had a car phone. It was literally just a receiver and that pigtail cord stuck in the dash. Boss Hog’s acting though sold it as completely real. “Rosco, If we ever get out of this alive, I’ll kill you!”
When the first person in any circle I was involved in got a car phone, it was the time of legend. Middle schoolers came from all around the Evergreen Elementary School District to see if the rumors that Connie’s dad had a car phone were true. We had to be careful when looking at it. Extra caution was taken to make sure no buttons were inadvertently touched. Calls cost $20/min ( or whatever exorbitant amount we were told). We stared in awe. Car phones are real. And Connie’s dad must be incredibly important.
Skip forward a decade, and Brian got one from his job and I “needed” one as well. No more would I need to pull off at the next pay phone to return a call that had come to the bank beeper.
It feels like it’s only been the blink of an eye until I’m at this point like a lot of us where we’re carrying 2 phones that have more technology than ever thought possible. I mean, with just a couple of clicks I can place Daniel’s face on the side of a milk jug and instantly send it to whatever far off place he’s at to let him know his mommy misses him. I also get to see video of young Dirty doing cop things taken and shared by people I don’t know at all.
It all comes with a trade off and it’s come full circle. I’m still just as tethered to a phone as I was at 13, just in a different way.
Thanks for reading!
Bifocals and Barbells 