Joining the 21st Century… via Cell Phone?

I have officially joined the 21st century, courtesy of my husband.

I, bemoaner of change, abhorer of text messaging (or at least the lowercase “i”) and sitting at breakfast-lunch-supper with loved ones unable to separate from their phones, am now the proud (cough) owner of an iPhone4.

This is it. It’s pretty. I’m not sure what it does.


According to my husband, this little gadget will open up a world of possibilities for me. I can apparently check my email on it, respond to text messages, guage the weather, and share photos.

Oh, you’ve already heard of it? Interesting….

Really, it’s my husband’s dastardly plan to get me to actually answer the phone.

Here’s my old phone. I had it for 7 years. Apparently, you’re supposed to update these things.

“Goodbye, sweet prince. Let scores of….” Oh, what the heck.

 But I cannot tell a lie: I’m not sad to see it go. It may surprise you (but not my family members or friends) to know that I am not a phone person. I didn’t buy one in the first place until 2002, when I started grad school and moved to the coast, and my father insisted I needed one for all the time I spent on the highway.

My phone, I tend to forget for days. It ends up in the glove compartment, the net pocket of the stroller, in the mini-pocket of my Camelback. Then people usually call my husband to find out whether I’m still alive. And when I finally find the thing, and charge it back into being, it’s usually loaded with messages. Oops.

So … texting. I’m going to try it. I think it’ll make me a better friend. At least one who keeps in touch.

But I’ll be gosh-darned if I’m writing in lowercase letters!





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