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Illustration by Drew Shannon
What am I missing here? I really need to know.
Once upon a time, families came to the table, enjoyed breakfast, and perhaps shared a little conversation before the busyness of the day began. Now, people come to the table with a seemingly necessary accessory: their cellphones. How did we ever survive without them?
It’s bad enough that we have normalized phone interruptions in almost every daily encounter: from being forced to listen to loud personal conversations on public transit when we’d rather look out a window, to expecting a cellphone’s “ding” in a restaurant when we would rather hear ambient music; from saying “Hello” to passersby so bonded to their phones that they can’t give you a greeting, to being out in our gardens, listening to birdsong when across the street, someone working from their porch, has to involve you in their ZOOM meeting.
I have been to one too many “social” encounters that leave me searching for a pair of eyes that aren’t glued to screens. Now if you don’t bring a phone to an event, you are left alone in a corner, twiddling your thumbs, waiting for someone to come up for air and engage in conversation.
I know I’m in the minority, but I am not a Luddite. I acknowledge the way technology has improved our lives. I use technology when I need it. I guess I’m just more discriminating when it comes to deciding when I absolutely do and do not need it. I do not need technology when I go for a walk, when I go to the washroom, or when I come to the table; I don’t need it at a family gathering, and I don’t need it to help me sleep. I don’t even need it to find a house address. What is wrong with me? I really need to know.
Yesterday, an acquaintance told me about some “guy” she found on TikTok, saying something interesting about a world event. I pretended that the video was intriguing, but the truth is, it was not. Just some guy in a ball cap, holding a coffee cup, sharing a thought that, years ago, wouldn’t even have made it from his brain to his mouth, to public consumption. Such is the miracle and madness of these little devices we call cellphones.
Phones used to be plugged into walls, one phone per household usually, until you got a jack installed in your bedroom. Then you could have a private conversation. Ironically, in those days we ached for privacy, a space where only we could hear the conversation on the other end of the line. Now, people don’t seem to care who hears their conversations, or where they have them. In the mall? On a plane? In a staff lunch room? A theatre? A church? All are game now.
The problem is people aren’t just carrying phones: it’s a phone, a computer, and a television all in one, neatly tucked away into a pocket. Oh, if they could only stay there! But most people have convinced themselves that they need these things like a flower needs rain. We used to hang up phones, turn off TVs and shut down computers when we were done with them. Now, we are never done with them.
By now, you are rolling your eyes, wondering what my problem is. Why can’t this woman just get with it? Enter the 21st century? Move with the times? Embrace progress? I want to assure you that I can. However, I choose to regulate how much technology I allow into my world. Is that such a bad thing?
I am a social experiment. How long can I survive without a cellphone? How can I control the technology without the technology controlling me?
I am not addicted to technology, nor have I made it my god. I decide what I bring to my life, how much, how little, how often. This empowers and grounds me in ways I wouldn’t want to give up.
This also ostracizes and even isolates me. It certainly takes people aback. If someone tells me they want to text me something, I have to tell them they can’t. Initially, I get a catatonic look: eyes wide open, mouth agape, wondering how I can live and breathe in today’s world without a cellphone. Then, after the shock has worn off, they congratulate me. “Good for you!” they say. In one minute, I have gone from some oddball recluse to someone they secretly admire.
Perhaps I am living proof that a person can still have a full, robust, satisfying, engaged life, without a cellphone. And maybe, just maybe, I’m really not missing anything after all.
Kim DeBon lives in Burlington, Ont.