It’s sunny, not too hot, I think, but what do I know, I have the blinds drawn because of work going on outside.
In a way, it’s cozy, I guess.
My aunt just called that relic of another age, the “House Phone,” which, before that, would have simply been “the Phone,” and I kid you not, when it rang, my heart stopped.
Well, probably not literally.
But generally it’s spam, we keep it for emergencies, and when I saw the name I thought oh no, what’s wrong.
Turns out that was her thought too because she couldn’t get my dad on his phone and I think she was anxious.
Aren’t we all.
Anyway, we chatted for a few until he called her back and it has me thinking about how much changes without our watching it go. The phone, first communal to the point of sharing it with neighbors (which is before my time, but I’ve heard the stories of party lines), then within the household, then people with multiple lines, and then finally cell phones, scattering communication like light through a prism.
Think of all the young people who have never had to make polite conversation with someone on their way to the person they actually called to speak to, never having left a message with the comfort zone of maybe it wasn’t passed on.
These are the same people who walk zombie-like down the sidewalk, eyes fixed ahead, no casual nods or hellos. The same ones that have no clue there is such a thing as an art of elevator chitchat to master.
They’ve never had to speak to someone outside of their volition, and it shows.
Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe that sense of friendliness is artificial and burdensome.
Maybe it isn’t.
But it’s the kind of thing you wonder about when the House Phone actually rings.
That’s it for me on this Friday, have a lovely weekend and a very Happy New Year to everyone celebrating Rosh Hashanah.
A Bit to Read 
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