Way 2 Age

I got a new cell phone this week. It was kind of a swap for the phone I've been using which worked fine for me but I could pass it on to someone who cares about all its features and in its place I got a $20 brand new phone that just talks and not much more. It doesn't have a camera or play music or surf the web or drive the car while I'm doing other things.

And no Bluetooth or movies or games or anything else I don't care about but it does have a built-in Senior Moment Button. It's actually two buttons ― the turn-up-the-volume button is right next to the hang-up button and all the buttons are really tiny. People over a certain age, perhaps six, have trouble hearing on these tiny phones so when I try to turn up the volume I end up hanging up on the call.

Needless to say, when I call back and give this explanation, my friends are all very gracious and say some 'poor old guy' kind of thing under their breath knowing I'm just trying to cover up for my creeping senility. It even gets worse than that if I say that I'm really happy to have a phone that doesn't promise to make me young and sexy and suave and sophisticated and give me an IV of Viagra by remote control.

"What's wrong with Roger?" they think to themselves. "He wants a phone he can just talk on? He used to be so sharp and hip. His wife must be appalled," and she is but she's used to me hanging up on her.

"Would you please pay attention to what we're doing," she said in exasperation and she was right. I got the message and actually it was a good exercise in not drifting off just because I didn't want to put the effort into paying attention. We were walking through a small community garden next to a small strip mall in a remote town we visit about once every 15 years. I was looking at the utility poles and the transformers on them, not at the flowers I was inadvertently trampling.

I like the way utility poles stand like the last of the guard in vacant yards. Maybe there were canneries in this town on the California North Coast but now there are just empty lots with brilliant spring grass and utility poles.

But, okay, I'll pay attention to the garden. I'm really no good at identifying plants and species so I said, "Is that a jade plant?" as I looked at something that was a succulent and had round leaves but really wasn't a jade plant. She stepped over me and the railroad tie I was sitting on to inspect the plant while I basked in the afternoon sun and scanned the horizon for utility poles.

My new phone rang but I didn't answer it because I didn't recognize the number that showed up on the screen and that's because I haven't entered all the numbers on the new phone that I got off the old phone on a spread sheet. The spread sheet is clever but I don't carry it around with me so I don't answer the phone and I don't call anyone either, not to mention the Senior Moment Button.

Then I lost my attention on the garden and sauntered across the parking lot into the yard with the utility pole. "Weren't you sitting in the garden?" my wife asks me on the cellphone. When the phone rang this time, her name showed up on the screen.

"I got bored and wandered over here to the power pole," I said. "Look over your right shoulder."

Fortunately, when I first got the phone I had my wits about me and put her number in immediately. But sadly, I didn't know her number. It used to be that the two of us just had a phone number. I don't know how I got sideswiped by that one but now my spouse has a different phone number and I have to look it up on a spreadsheet. It's overwhelming to think that a computer or two is needed for me to call the person I sleep next to.

I don't think I can wrap my brain cells around that one. It's just too much for me to take in. I'd rather sit next to my wife in a small garden at the side of a parking lot and watch the sea and the sun.

And drift.