Phones-off-a-leash have tethered us

Back in the day before they retired and moved to Arizona, my in-laws lived in a home with a phone in every room of the house. This was before reliable cordless phones were on the market, so I was rather impressed with their domestic communications set-up. Nevertheless, I was shocked the first time I used the bathroom in their house only to discover that a white princess wall phone was conveniently installed above the toilet paper dispenser. The notion of talking to someone while doing your business on the toilet was both novel and crude to me. Everytime I had to go, I would waffle between appreciating the ingenuity of such a convenience and believing that was downright impolite. I would try to think of someone I could call just to say "hi," but I didn't like the prospect of explaining the potential unpleasant noises during such a call. And I certainly had no intention of asking "Guess where I am?"

These days, I find it interesting how the technological advancements of “freeing” the telephone of its leash has revealed that people aren't necessarily as self-conscious as I imagined. You’re never quite sure where the person you are speaking with is and what he or she is doing. I’ve been in many public restrooms where I’ve listened to someone carrying on a conversation in the stall next door. I still wonder if the person on the other end of the line knows or cares, for that matter. I wonder who considers it convenient or rude.

If cordless phones liberated us at home from a phone on a leash, then cellular phones made us truly free. Free to do what? Think about how we've changed.

Intially, Scott and I bought a cell phone for me for emergencies only -- just in case the car broke down or Ted broke his arm at school while I was at the grocery store or any other possible tragedy were to befall one of us. But our definition of emergency quickly evolved. One of the things that Scott and I loved to do the honeymoon phase of owning a cell phone was to order take-out pizza on our way home from a late afternoon of whatever we were doing with the kids. We felt so clever, so complete. Driving home from the zoo, the boys whining about hunger, we could stop at Villa Napoli where our dinner would be ready and waiting. What a coup!

When plans became more affordable and both of us owned cell phones, we found ourselves constantly checking-in with one another. "I'm calling just to let you know. . . that I'm on the bus leaving work now." or ". . .that the doctor's appointment is running late." Yet, as with emergencies, the definition of checking-in evolved to include new standards that turned us into our own air traffic controllers able to pinpoint the exact location of one other. "Okay, now I'm coming up the street and will be in the driveway in about 30 seconds. . ."

The nature of family shopping has changed too. At the mall, it used to be that everyone agreed on a time and location to meet back if the group wanted to split up for awhile. These days when we load up the car, the requisite checklist items are that each has a charged phone that's turned on and ringer activated. When Scott and I go to Costco, we inevitably lose each other within two minutes. Thank goodness we can call each other up rather than have to actually look. "Where are you?" "I am at the end of the aisle waving to you, dear."

It seems to me that cell phones liberated my generation with ubiquitous communication capabilities. As a parenting tool, I realize that they are also a really long leash. Hank first obtained a phone his freshman year in high school when he no longer rode the bus and had to fend for himself getting back and forth the two and a half miles commute in every kind of weather. Getting from place to place now that he drives isn't my main concern. More importantly, I don't have to remember whether he is at Dan's or Kevin's, the golf course or the bowling alley. Realizing this, I gladly purchased one for Ted while he was still in middle school, and I've forgotten how we survived before cell phones.

Now, I love technology. However, ask me what kind of phone I have in my house at this moment and I confess that I find the old-fashioned phones-on-a-leash the most convenient and reliable. Can you guess why? Well, that's a different essay for another day in my mundane little world.