Hello, Hello

 

The telephone was invented just one hundred and fifty years ago. Alexander Graham Bell was originally trying to find a way to make the telegraph system work better. 

How much have times changed? I remember watching "The Walton's" tv show, which was set in the 1930's. I think that only the general store in their little mountain town had a telephone. Other tv shows often had people listening in on party lines as part of the plot. Often, several families shared. When I was a child, I remember sharing a line with first two neighbors, and then with one other family. There was always a click if the neighbors picked up the phone and you would know if they were listening. Having only a two-party line seemed pretty impressive.  As a young teen, I had my own phone. It was a blue princess design. I also got my own private line. Not because we were wealthy, but because my dad had a lot of business calls when he was at home in the evenings. He really didn't like it when the phone lines were tied up when he was waiting on or wanting to make a call. My dad would have loved having a cell phone.

Phone calls were ten cents when you used a phone booth. Our moms always made sure that we had a dime in case we needed to call home. And that was really only for emergencies or if you were going to be late! Just imagine, we could be gone for hours with no one knowing where we were. Just as long as we were home by curfew! 

When I was a young mom, I had a wall phone in the kitchen with an extra long cord. I could do all sorts of things while I talked to my other mom friends. We all felt liberated. A few years later, I worked in a hospital as a telephone operator, patient information clerk, and for the doctors' answering service. After that experience, I hardly talked on the phone at all. 

The first cell phones became available in 1973 but weren't commercially released until 1983. They were at least 10 inches long,  weighed two and a half pounds and were about the size of a brick. After being charged for ten hours they only worked for half an hour. They improved radically over the next several years.

I really don't remember when I got my first cell phone. I know I resisted for several years. I didn't like the idea that someone could contact me at any moment of the night or day. When I did get my first phone, I didn't even give my number out. Now, just like nearly everyone else, I feel totally discombobulated if I forget my phone!

Phones today are used for so much more than just talking. Most people spend a lot more time texting. I'm not good at it. I still text in complete sentences that are grammatically correct. But I do love to get text messages and emails. Then I don't have to actually answer the phone. Am I the only one?

Doom Scrolling is now a thing. Why check your phone just to make sure that you get all of the bad news? I suppose this is also part of the fear of missing out. Do we really need to know everything?

 Today the average person checks their phone about 150 times a day. (When I checked this information, the number varied between 144 and 200!) This is an average. I know I am saying "Not Me", but many people do use their phones beyond that. I look around at restaurants and there is usually at least one person at each table using a phone. Sometimes all of them are, and there is no conversation at all. I see people in grocery stores verifying their entire orders with someone at home. Waiting in line means checking your phone. I have heard an unlimited number of very private conversations while out and about. For some reason, the talkers must think that we don't hear them.

Thirty-three states now have legislation against phone use while driving. It's been a long time, but this is a trend that needs to continue. Some parents are starting to re-think the idea of giving phones to very young children. Is it time to make more changes?

READING AND WRITING

 I was completely and totally mesmerized by this novel. I started to read it a few nights ago and finished it the next day. (304 pages). It is a book that will stay with me. Basically, it is about a woman in her seventies who has been writing letters to people for most of her life. The book covers the correspondence between 2012 and 2022. There are letters to people she loves and has loved, people she admires, people she is upset with, people she never got along with at all, and people she has never met. She writes to authors to let them know what she thinks of their books. Almost everyone answers her letters. Sometimes a new friendship starts. That's it. The entire book is letters, except for a few emails. I have learned this is called an epistolary. I may have already known that. It is like reading some one's diary, but maybe with permission. Little by little we discover the joys and sorrows and regrets of her life, and our own. There are parts of this book that I really identify with, but most of it is very different than the person I am. I do love the way she organizes her life, and sits at her desk with her favorite pens and paper and beautiful penmanship. She and her dearest friend always close their letters by adding the name of whatever book they are reading.

One of the reasons that I am so taken with this book, is that I recently resolved to start writing letters again. A few weeks ago, I copied a "pledge" to write at least one letter every Sunday. I haven't gotten very far with it yet, but I have hope.

When I was younger, I wrote a lot of letters, and almost always had a penpal. For most of my teen years, I wrote to a girl in India. Her name was Aruna, and we sent each other little gifts. She always wanted me to come visit. And then we both grew up and grew apart. I had another pen friend from the east coast. She was named Faith and seemed to live a life that was much wilder and adventurous than mine. Maybe it was real, but I never knew. She would sneak out of her house at night, and meet up with older boys, and then send me long letters about them. Perhaps she writes steamy novels about them now. I had a lot more in common with Aruna. I had many friends that I kept in touch with through letters for a long time. Now we sometimes email or communicate through Facebook. Not as much as I want to, though. I regret the times I didn't write when I should have.  Now that I have decided to write again, maybe I will be able to do that. I've bought real stationery and may try fountain pens again. And sealing wax. Oh, the possibilities. 

The Kindness of Strangers

 I notice a lot of things when watching British mystery tv. Of course everybody drinks a lot of tea. And when the detective interviews someone about a suspect or a victim over a cuppa, the person will almost always say, "I really don't know anything about it. He kept himself to himself." We don't hear that here in the United States, because most people love to talk, especially about themselves and their history. 

I don't usually think of myself as someone who is an oversharer. At least not in person. When it comes to writing, I am much more likely to spill the tea. Does anyone else wonder what that means? Well, I looked it up. I thought it was a new saying, but it has actually been a bit of American slang since the 1980's. It means to tell the truth about something scandalous, dramatic or juicy.

One thing I notice a lot is that people tend to think that no one overhears when they are talking on a cellphone. I am always surprised at the ones who will talk loudly on speakerphone when they are out shopping. Just the other day I felt like I was following a woman at Target because I could hear her conversation from several aisles away. She was telling a friend very intimate details about her divorce and custody hearing and talked the entire time she was in the store.

A few days later I was in the pharmacy, when a man looking at greeting cards shared family stories with a stranger who was also looking at cards. They weren't good stories, and I'm surprised he was actually buying cards for people he disliked so much. Not to be out done, she also had her share of horror stories. Once again, they were very loud, and I could easily hear them from several aisles away.

Now if you are starting to get the idea that I am just a creepy eavesdropper sort of person, I'm really not. Anyway, not most of the time. For the sake of clarity, I will admit that during the time when I was alone and lonely I used to deliberately listen to old married couples in restaurants. More than once I fought off the urge to go to their tables and tell them to be nicer to each other.

There are also people who want to share happy times. There is a cashier I see in another store who tells everyone the story of how his parents met. He enjoys it every time he repeats it, and I try to take the time to listen.

Sometimes it is easier to share things with strangers than with those we know. When I was going through sadness and misery, I remember more than one occasion when I cried with women who were there for me in the very worst moments, but I never saw them again. I will always think of them as my angels and remember the kindness they gave me when I desperately needed it.

It is a good thing to share connections and experiences with other people. Let's just try not to do it loudly and publicly.