Mistaken Identity with Cell Phones

Do I believe safety issues exist when drivers talk on the phone or text while driving? Oh, yeah.

Funny thing is, 97 per cent of Americans, in a recent poll, think the rest of you are dangerous. A majority, on the other hand, thought they personally were safe.

Not me, by golly. I wasn't polled, but I would be one of those saying, "I'm about as safe behind the wheel with a phone to my ear as I would be in rush hour traffic with three shots of Wild Turkey on an empty stomach."

So I always pull over, and if a pullover place isn't immediately available, I probably won't answer before the phone quits ringing. Which creates a distraction of its own. After trying several times to snag it out of my purse while driving a stick shift in rush hour stop'n'go a few years ago, I wisely decided not even to try till I was safely stopped. Even though my current vehicle is automatic.

Oh, I have coordination, of sorts. I can walk and chew gum. The problem is when I try to talk and do--almost anything else. When transporting foster kids all over creation and North Texas on often unfamiliar byways, I missed so many exits while in conversation that my kids expected my cheerful rejoinder to "you just missed the exit" that we were again taking the scenic route. I am pleased that it became a point of camaraderie among us. At least, I thought so.

And that was with an actual person sitting beside me.

Cell phones, however, factor more than just on the road.

I play Yahzee with three friends every week, where we play all six games at once. This results in scores usually over 7,000, and I prefer to use my calculator. (Two of us add in their heads faster than I can with my calculator but I forgive them, and they forgive me.) I got a telephone call on my cell the other day and after the call I brought it back to the table with me. My cell and my calculator are approximately the same size. I was talking to my friends while deciding to add a column, and had punched two musical digits before it occurred to me I was trying to add on my cell phone. Yes, I know I actually can do that, but I wanted to use my nifty sun-powered calculator which I've had since the 80s. They didn't notice.

So of course, I confessed. And was ribbed unmercifully. And then a friend confessed she had been watching tv last week when she decided to make a call and absentmindedly picked up the TV remote and tried to dial. Wasn't she good-hearted to share that?

I'm the woman who had to train myself to hang up my car keys each time I entered the house after one nerve-wracking morning when it took us 30 minutes to find the keys in the refrigerator. And when we did, I remembered how that happened. But when I am thinking about something else, my hands do things I hesitate to take responsibilty for, although ultimately I must.

I once knew someone who could read while driving 80 mph down the highway, simultaneously carry on a conversation, watch tv and read--although with delayed reaction times--and never miss a lick.

Me, I can walk and chew gum. Oh, and I can cook and talk at the same time. Definitely not write and talk. Drive and talk a little bit--although I can listen with better driving concentration.

Fortunately, the computer and printer have discrete functions. Else I might never post.

When you can't be there in person

Don't you hate it when you call a friend who is going through physical pain, or emotional pain, or maybe both, and they say, "hey, I'm in the middle of something, can I call you back later tonight?"

And you say, "sure."

And you carry your phone around, because you don't know when they will call or if they will call, but you want to Be There if they do.

They hurt, and you wishyoucouldhelpit, but you can't.

Maybe they need answers, and youwishyoucouldhelpit, but you can't.

But you can listen. You can say, "Hey, I'm here."

It may be all you can do. It seems like so little.

But you hold the phone and wait for the call.

Because that's what friends do.

I'll Get Back to You Later

One of the things about cell phones is that you end up telling the caller where you are and what you are doing. Kind of like an oral Blackberry. I am always bemused when I go out to eat and I ser four men together at a table, together, eating, and all four are on their cell phones, talking to other people. Why did they go out to eat together?

It seems to me that the more we use cell phones, the more alone we are. And I know so many people with two or three phones and e-mail, and I can never really talk to them, at least for a number of days. So despite all the communications, we find our ways to be very, very private and singular. That's okay. It's the illusion of availability I hate. Boy, do I hate "the party you called is not available." Even more, I hate the phones with no mail message service that simply says, "call again later." I've gotten used to, at least, voice mail.

I've gotten used to the computerized voice mail transactions. Today it was a nuisance because I kept sneezing, and every time I did, it upset the program and I had to start over several times.

But there are pluses. Like e-mail, and blogs. And probably chat rooms if I ever find one I want to talk in, which I haven't so far.

We are so lucky in this country to have electricity available almost all of the time, and cars to drive. I notice in radio gripes that people actually get much more upset over driving violations that inconvenience them than in bigger issues like immigration, voters rights, First Amendment violations, etc. I remember years ago a friend telling me about a kitchen fire at a fast food place, and even as the firemen tried to clear the site, oblivious patrons came in, wanting to order meals. They wanted what they wanted, and they really didn't notice anything else. Like fire trucks.

Many of us live really small lives, apparently. Some of us do lift our eyes up to see more than a full belly, shelter, and a means to survive. But a lot of us really don't. When we do, oh, what a world there is.