Hunker Down with Kes: Those Operators Had Everybody’s Number

People look at me like I’m kinda weird when they learn that I don’t own a cell phone. Most just roll their eyes in disbelief. Some think I am kidding. A few try to explain the absolute necessity of having a cell phone. Some want to know how I order food. One asked, “Who do you talk to?”

I’m certainly not pulling anyone’s leg here. I’m just not a fan of anything that seems to be taking over our lives faster than that gooey stuff in the Steve McQueen movie, “The Blob.”

The “absolute necessity” group usually starts with how cell phones help in an emergency. And they are correct. I agree that a cell phone can be useful. I just don’t want to wake up each day planning, preparing, holding a machine in my right hand, just in case I have a problem.

I like to wake up thinking this day is going to be perfect!

Besides, if something really goes bad, there will be 16 people on the sidelines taking videos of my misfortune, and calling 911 at the same time. I would hope one of them, out of kindness, would drop their phone and run over and help stop the bleeding….

I don’t order food unless I’m inside a restaurant, talking face-to-face with a nice young person with a pen and ordering book in their hand. They will bring my medium-cooked hamburger and Diet Coke right to the table…while the meat is still hot and the drink is ice cold.

As to who I talk to: how about the neighbor next door, or the one across the street, or the young lady standing at the door with the Girl Scout cookies in her hand.

I try to greet everyone as I’m moving around town with a smile and a pat on the back, or a story about when I taught their daughter, or coached their son. It’s the same when I go in to Ace Hardware. Or the credit union.

Opportunities abound on every side to “make someone’s day” with a simple, kind, personal word. The trick is not to get yourself so distracted in any way or by anything that you miss a golden opportunity.

I talk to every kid in town every time I get the chance because they are real people, too.

My favorite person to talk to is my first wife of 52 years. I wake up telling her about the time Leon piled up several of those orange traffic cones and set them on fire. He was experimenting to see if, as they melted, the rubber would seal a crack he had created in the back fender of a 1958 Chevrolet pickup. Cathy listens and nods and laughs at all the appropriate places.

I can’t remember for sure, but that might not be the first time she has heard that story….

Talking to live people can be a blast if you just lean into it a little.

Cell phone people get pretty close to the line when they question my sanity or go into great detail on how cell phones are the fastest, greatest, smartest, best communication device ever conceived….

When I was very young, we had a wooden box hanging in the hall that had a listening receiver device hanging on the left side, and a small crank handle on the right. I had to drag a straight-back chair out of the kitchen, put it under the phone, climb up and reach up on tip toes to get the crank in my hand. I took the receiver off the hook and stuck it to my ear, gave the crank a turn, and a nice, polite human on the other end immediately said, “Number please.”

I leaned in close to the black tube sticking out of the middle of the box, “Ma’am, may I speak to Bobby please.”

In half a second Bobby Brewer came on the line. I didn’t push any buttons. I didn’t have a list of favorite contacts to call. Nothing lit up. No bells went off. I did not have to give Bobby’s last name.

When I told him what time the game was going to start, I hung up. And gave the crank another whirl, “Ma’am, may I speak to Buddy.”

“Kesley, are y’all playing baseball this morning?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You want me to call Kenny and Larry, and tell them, while you are talking to Buddy?”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

We could get up a game in half the time it ought to take.

You can tell me about modern. You can show me a hundred things the new phones can do. You can turn on the light and find my car keys. You can sing the cell phone praise song until the cows come home.

But you can’t fool me.

Nothing can, or will ever, top giving that crank a quick twirl and saying, “May I talk to Bobby?” And he’s instantly on the line. I never had to plug nothing in, tote something around everywhere I went, or worry about losing anything….

Respectfully,

Kes

kesley45@aol.com