By Jim Magdefrau
I put on the nerd hat recently as I upgraded my iPhone. It was not so much of an upgrade, as it was that my old phone had turned into something that resembled a small version of the monolith in “2001: A Space Odyssey.”
Is that too nerdy? Just hang on. We are zooming into pocket protector and slide rule world.
This meant I had to go for several hours without looking at the phone. I could still look at it, but it wouldn’t look back at me. All I could see is the reflection of my face. That’s not too exciting. So I talked with the people in the store. Nice people. I looked at my surroundings and realized a car across the street had a big rooster on it. Out of reflex, I still glanced at my hand, still knowing there was nothing there to look at, click or swipe. I couldn’t look up anything, such as shapes of pasta, Don Knotts movies, or the difference between regardless and irregardless. I had to rely on my wits.
I listened to the radio in the car. THE RADIO!
I opted for a phone that looked just like my old one, only with new stuff under the hood. A new and larger phone would mean bigger pockets and an upgrade of all of my pants. OK. Four pairs of pants.
I actually remembered most of the passwords. Programs were reloaded. There was my great niece on my screen saver.
Then came the dramatic moment of getting notified of all the urgent messages I had missed while I was in communication limbo. Naturally, as a person, I received no notifications. Well, maybe the world did keep turning. I really am retired.
Then messages started coming in. Sweet corn on the farm! Yes, people are thinking about me. They acknowledge my existence.
Communication has been restored. The world can talk to me again, without having to actually talk to me. I’m back.