My Phone and Me

There were a few things rumbling around in my head as we slid into March, when my phone popped up with an unsolicited message: “You averaged fewer steps over the last four weeks…”

Like I said, I wasn’t asking for its input. I don’t need my phone to tell me how much I’ve walked or haven’t walked. Does my phone know that the sidewalks have been icy, the winds bitter and blustery? It should! It seems to know everything else.

Why then can it not send me a gentler message: “It’s icy out there. Be careful. Might be a good day for a swim instead of a walk.” But no, it insists on making me feel that I’m lacking in some way; that I’ve slipped up (not literally); that I need to up my game.

We’ve become so attached to our phones that they are another appendage now. And this dependency is not isolated to the younger generations. We boomers are guilty of the same, although we may be less reliant on or crave things like Tik-Tok. But news feeds, Scrabble, Wordle, Instagram, 23 Hilarious Things About..? I’m there for it.

My crack-like dependency came to light the other day when I returned home. Coat off. Hand in pocket, reaching for phone. No phone! Check bag. Not there either! Panic set in. A frantic search through contents of bag. Nothing. Coat and shoes quickly donned again and a quick race back down to the bowels of the underground parking. Unlock car. There was my cherished friend sitting in the driver seat, having slid out of my coat pocket. My relief was palpable.

Can we even remember the days without our smart phones? I am of the generation who remembers the rotary dial phones. My first cell phone was a (not smart) flip-phone. I may still have it somewhere in the graveyard of old discarded phones. I don’t ‘love’ my I-phone, just as I don’t ‘love’ my car or fridge or stove. They need not be super sleek and pretty. But they must be functional and available the minute I need them. I’m dependent on all of them.

The other day, after hearing about falling from a couple of different people, I was talking with my daughter about how those who live alone are at risk of lying on a floor for hours, un-rescued. Like a good daughter, she sought a solution for me, although I’d like to think I’m nowhere near the age of falling and being unable to get up. She suggested I take my phone into the bathroom with me. But we all do that anyway these days, don’t we? It’s where I learn Spanish (TMI?).  But what she meant was set it down somewhere nearby when I took a shower. Because that’s one of the few times my phone doesn’t go with me. But no, I’m not at the point yet where my phone is going to be near me while taking a shower. Although it still goes almost everywhere else with me.

Now, if only it can send me nicer messages and reminders. Is that too much to ask?