Saturday, April 21, 2012
He's not easy to find. There are no sales associates in the store who were alive before cell phones. They stare at you mute when you explain that on your own phone you have to go out to the front yard and turn the crank on the spark generator to get enough steam to put a call through. They have no point of reference to know you're kidding, and no idea how to react, and they go limp with embarrassment.
But, she said. She looked worried. Oh, she was worried. She couldn't have looked more upset if she had been laid up with a busted foot and had to send MeeMaw out into the snowstorm on the bum mule to fetch Doc Pritchart. And it was absolutely clear to us that she herself had no idea how to get to Los Alamos using just her own neurons and a placemat map. She may not get lost, with all her tools, but she has lost something.
But when we finally made the jump, I always thought, we would try to find the dumbest possible phone. You know, one that can only allow you to talk to someone in Thailand while you're lugging out the trash. I have no idea what texting is for. And Dave doesn't have the paws for it in any case. It would be like trying to play hop-scotch in clown shoes.
But are the fluffy sheets of unlimited data worth what we'd lose? As it is now, we have only one computer. It's a nice one, but not portable, so when we walk away from it, we can talk to each other, and notice the world. In fact, having only the one computer, we talk to each other all of the time.
Mostly, we say "can I have that machine now?"