Lament of Landline Decline

The ring tone on my smartphone duplicates the sound of my landline. I started to type ...landline phone...but that would be a redundancy. (I have friends who keep track of each and every one by anyone. I am on enough lists; this is one I can control).

My ring choice declares to the world that it's difficult for me to imagine life without that lifeline. That's more what it was, a way to phone a friend for no good reason other than connection. I preferred the old-fashioned handset; it was easier to balance between ear and shoulder than was the cordless version. The curlycue cord meant the phone was never lost. With an extra-long cord I, however, could 'get lost' from nosy parent and sibling ears by retreating to a far corner or behind a closed door. With five in the house, there were few secrets anyway. Whoever 'got it' knew who was calling, and if I answered and slithered away, well, like I said, no secrets.

Because my old house had phone line troubles, I closeted the old-fashioned phones and bought a 3-phone cordless set-up before technicians discovered the problem was outside somewhere. One is permanently displaced. A second was just recently discovered lying under the handle - for safe keeping - of the outdoor can that holds garden tools. (Grand indication of the sad state of affairs of my flowerbeds). The third sits proudly in the home base but it doesn't work because it had a brief outdoor vacation during a gully washer from which it never recovered. The base rings and records, but two-way communication is no longer happening.

So I pulled out the two stored ones and connected them to phone outlets upstairs. The yellow desktop rotary-dial version doesn't have clear reception so I opted to use the 'newer' old phone - one with gigantic print on gigantic push-buttons. I get an aerobic workout if there are rings to answer when I'm home.

Long before my mobile phone was a smartphone I noticed the decrease in frequency of rings at home. For a while I transferred the home number to that flip phone because I missed talking. Too, it took me forever to halfway grasp texting on that microscopic keyboard... um... keypad.

Talking on a phone is disappearing right along with the landlines. Texting seems preferred, increasingly by my generation even, perhaps because we are losing the knack. I still prefer it, but with much less talktime practice, it gets awkward. There is a rhythm required so too-long pauses aren't then followed by two sped-up monologues spoken simultaneously. Simply means one is paying attention to the other, formulating responses that gee-haw with the context. I don't recall being uncomfortable with momentary breaks during phone chats in the twentieth century.

It is a matter of balance now. I won't give up my smartphone though there are times when I turn it off. I lived for years with availability only when at home. Can't I still have that luxury now and then? Must I be connected 24/7?

I won't give up my landline, either, but I should invest in a decent phone so I can sprawl on the floor or chill in a comfy rocker chatting away with no thought of the ticking clock and nosy devices, with expectation of calls from other than solicitors! A vanishing luxury I may never fully adjust to.