I’m one of the few people who doesn’t have a cellphone. Not that I can’t have one. I choose not to.  If I’m not home, it’s because I’m doing something. I don’t see the point, I mean at least not for me. As far as I know, I’m not that in demand … unless my answering machine has been lying to me all these long years. Of course I’m sure it’s faulty at times, so it’s not all that bad. And then also, why make my best friend my telephone? Don’t shake your heads, “No,” some of you. If you could get food out of them and deposit what’s left and not digested into them, there would be your whole world I’m sure. Got a question, go to the phone. Need directions, go to the phone. Want to take a picture, go to the phone. Want to play a game or watch a movie? Go to the phone. Want to talk to someone, or not, just text them? Yes, go to the phone. If you want to do ten thousand other things, I’m sure there are apps for those too. Of course some of you might be reading this on your phone … thank you.

What? You calling me a hypocrite? Why? I’m not reading it on my phone. I wouldn’t even know what a good value plan is for one of those things.

Is having a cellphone with gadgets wrong? No, of course not, until we’re certain it gives us brain tumors, but moderation … that’s the key.

With the laptop in the room, I have to admit I’m drawn to it, due to the similarities of some of those phones, but when I spend days away from it, I feel rejuvenated. I almost feel like climbing to the highest mountain top and proclaiming, “It’s been three days since my last internet search.” And I feel proud like a recovering alcoholic … but one who will fall back into it again. But I’m more sober than not, when “not” is my face in a computer screen. Granted a lot of people have to work in front of computer screens. That can’t be helped. I do my writing, staring myself at a computer screen. Guilty as charged.

So why am I talking about this? I don’t know. I just see more people’s faces stuck in these hand-helds and wonder why? Or more specifically: Why so much? Why all the time? Can they not help themselves? And wonder … if I have the patience and dexterity to push all those cute … little …… buttons.

Roger McManus