I see a 45-year-old technophobe looking at me.
Forty-five-year-old technophobe, 45-year-old technophobe what do you see?
I see a ball of complication bearing down on me.
I see a steep learning curve rushing toward me.
I see freedom from the Internet slipping away from me.
Excuses, excuses, what do you see?
I see that technophobe letting me be.
And that’s just what I did.
I walked away from a semi-smart phone, a touch-screen beauty with all the beginner bells and whistles to take this dumb phone user to the next level. I surprised myself. I’d secretly coveted this phone. But when it was placed in my waiting palms I felt a weight heavier than its mere ounces bearing down on my psyche.
How to explain? Perhaps I’ve taken on quite a bit already this year. I’ve committed to some life-changing practices. I’ve taken on a literacy tutoring commitment. I’m still trying to balance home/work/family. Somehow making time to learn a new phone/mini computer threw me over the edge.
Blame it on middle age. Blame it on my resistance to gizmos and gadgetry.
While I had this sweet little toy in my hands, I looked up to see someone who wanted it more than I did. So I gave it to that person. It made her happy and the weight lifted. Just like that.
I kind of like my simple phone. It fits so nicely in my pocket, my purse, my car’s console.
I can’t really text all that well. Those of you who send me texts know that already, don’t you?
I send and receive calls. I use it to calculate restaurant bill tips and to program my calendar to remind me of appointments.
I’m staying on this side of the fence as long as I can.
I’m keeping my commitment to smelling the flowers, looking for patterns in the clouds, reading books made of paper, and claiming some time and space as my own, free of the chains of connectivity.
MomZombie does not do apps.
* Profuse apologies to Bill Martin Jr. and Eric Carle