There comes a moment in the life of every balding American when
he understands once and for all that he is hopelessly out of touch
and will never be asked to take part in a hip-hop music video.
There comes a moment in the life of every balding American when he understands once and for all that he is hopelessly out of touch and will never be asked to take part in a hip-hop music video.
For millions of men, that moment happened the first time he attempted to use a cell phone. The moment involved a teenage offspring and only deepened the feeling of cultural inadequacy.
The life-defining incident went like this:
Father: “How do you use this thing?”
Young Person: “Press that and then the phone number.”
Father: “Numbers? Do you have an electron microscope? These numbers are the size of molecules.”
Young Person: “Here, I’ll do it. Tell me the number.”
I don’t own a cell phone. I am the last father in America who doesn’t. And I know what you’re thinking. You’re saying, “Great, here comes a lecture on evil technology from a guy who doesn’t watch television and who thinks MapQuest is a board game.”
But you are wrong. Technology is my middle name. I TiVo “Jeopardy!” and did you know a basketball game takes about an hour if you eliminate commercials? I love modern life.
I will get a cell phone. I just haven’t gotten around to it. There are others like me, and we’re coming around. It takes time. We’ve only recently learned to leave the car keys on the same table every day.
We have learned. We understand the value. It’s like vegetables. At first we were against vegetables, even though everyone said they were good for us. Then we understood they were fat-free. Then we were told they are friendly to prostates and we said, “I love these vegetables, I eat them all the time, although they’re not as much fun raw.”
Acceptance, as always, is crucial. We understand that like Barry Manilow and Joan Rivers, the cell phone will not go away and is in fact likely to plague future generations.
I’m not against cell phones. I prefer that my daughter carry one at all times. If she is stuck on the road or thinking about renting a Paris Hilton video, I want to be there for her.
Cell phones are here to stay. According to something called the Cellular Telecommunications Industry Association, 110 million Americans own a cell phone. There are 46,000 new subscribers every day. By the end of this year, there will be 1.25 billion users worldwide.
They are everywhere at all times. Millions of people operate heavy machinery while using a cell phone. Drivers who once would be suspected of being drunk are now merely talking on the phone, haphazardly swerving to remain in their lanes while explaining why “Desperate Housewives” isn’t as good as it was last season.
But because I always see the good in people and small machinery, I’ve learned that cell phones have bonuses. Recently I was walking in downtown Santa Cruz and locked eyes with an agitated man coming my way. He appeared to be doing the Macarena and shouting stanzas of poetry.
I held a piece of dark chocolate to my ear and pretended to be talking on the phone. He let me pass. It’s true: Cell phones are terrific if you need to ignore the world.
And while I am talking-challenged, I like these new cell phone urban legends. My favorite is the guy who spontaneously combusted. I saw it on the Internet. It went like this:
“An Australian man exploded when his cell phone rang near a gas pump.”
Apparently it wasn’t true, even though it was on the Internet.
Everyone now has his or her own cell-phone story. Even though I don’t own the communication apparatus yet, I too have cell-phone stories. These are true; I am not making them up:
My neighbor dropped his phone into a full bathtub. I told him I didn’t want to know any more about the incident. The phone did not recover.
My neighbor dropped his second cell phone into a portable potty at the rodeo. I told him I didn’t want to know any more about the incident, especially how he retrieved the phone. The phone did recover.
I will have my own stories. Most of them will involve me losing the cell phone.
So yes, I accept and will embrace the cell phone, although there will be no attempt to stay current with the technology. Broadband. Peripherals. Analog. Digital. Smart. Dumb. Camera phones. Forget it. I will be mono. Mine will be the Yugo of cell phones.
Young people can laugh all they want. But I still have my uses in this modern age of communication:
Young Person: “Dad, can I have $20 for gas?”
Father: “OK, but who’s your daddy?”
Young Person: “You are. I’ll call you when you get a phone.”
Sure, and maybe I’ll even call a few people, if the numbers are large print.
Dan Fitch is a longtime journalist who lives in Aromas. Reach him at ba**********@***oo.com. His column is published weekly in the Gilroy Dispatch and Hollister Free Lance.
