December 2024
Phyllis Shragge
I have a mental block when it comes to remembering numbers, especially phone numbers. I worry that someday this brain glitch will cause me major grief.
I picture a scenario where I lose my phone, and a kind stranger lets me borrow hers. The borrowed phone is useless to me because I haven’t memorized one phone number in my contact list. I’ve tried, but I’ve failed. It’s sad, but true. I have no recall of any of my five adult children’s phone numbers, or the number of a friend. Without a single phone number embedded in my brain, I am paralyzed, stuck in cell phone oblivion, unable to reach anyone who might rescue me.
But then, as I imagine this scenario, my mind switches gears and I rethink my potential problem. What would be so terrible about not being able to instantly reach someone I know? How did I manage in the ’80s, before cell phones became the norm?
In those days, if I needed to call someone while I was out, I likely would be out of luck. The first obstacle would be finding a pay phone. Although common in those days, they were not on every street corner. And if I could find a phone, the person I wanted to reach probably wouldn’t be home. Being out of touch was the reality.
Nowadays, we expect instantaneous and 24/7 connection with family and friends. If we don’t have it, we lose our footing on the well-travelled technological road of life. Obviously, we are too dependent on our phones.
Of course, we rely on our phones for much more than calling and texting. We are dependent on them as a vehicle for research we consider crucial. We can’t wait for answers. Where’s the nearest pizza restaurant and are the reviews positive? What’s the score of the baseball game? What’s the current news, here and abroad? God forbid if we don’t have access to what’s happening the instant it happens.
We know we’re addicted to our phones. We know we depend on them for communication, entertainment, and for the answers to every question that pops into our minds. We know we should limit our usage, and we know if we want a good sleep, we should not be on our phones prior to bedtime. We know all this, but it changes nothing.
I think back to when I was a young teenager. There were two phones in my house, one in the den on the main floor and an extension in my parents’ bedroom. In those days, no one assumed a phone call was private.
If the phone rang, the person closest to one of the phones answered, then shouted at the top of his or her voice for so-and-so to pick up. For example, my sister might call out: “Phyllis! Get the phone. It’s Fran.” I’d rush to the nearest phone, knowing full well that everyone in my house knew I was about to chat with my best friend. If I was lucky, my sister would hang up as soon as I got on the phone. If I wasn’t, and my sister was in the mood to eavesdrop, I might get a few minutes into the conversation before I noticed she was listening.
Those black-corded phones were our link to the outside world, but their limits were obvious. We had no expectations about those old phones. We couldn’t imagine phones of the future that could be transported in a pocket or a purse. We couldn’t dream of phones that would magically provide us with information. We’d laugh at the concept of a phone being the first thing we would look at in the morning and the last thing we check at night.
Interestingly though, even though I currently can’t remember my contacts’ phone numbers, I know for certain that my phone number when I was growing up at 425 Cordova St. in Winnipeg was HU (for Hudson) 9-2922. Eventually, the number was changed to 489-2922. I wonder if my old phone number still exists (with the area code 204 tacked onto it, of course), and if so, is it a landline on Cordova St. in Winnipeg? Wouldn’t that be a hoot?
