The Evolution of the Telephone

I am old enough to remember rotary-dial phones. I am old enough to remember when you could make a call from a phone booth for just a dime – when outdoor phone booths were almost as common as telephone polls. I even remember party lines – my Grammy and Grampy’s phone would sound out odd little sequences of rings (“One long, two short: that’s a call for my cousin Mable who lives just up the road.”). Sometimes, a neighbour would carefully take the phone off the hook, place their hand over the mouthpiece, and listen in to hear the latest gossip until someone on the other end shouted at them to ‘mind their own business and get off the phone’.

I recall with absolute clarity the first time my workplace sent and received a fax. We all crowded around, amazed and more than a little in awe – as the ‘test’ fax we had just sent to an office many miles away came back with an excited response scribbled along the bottom of the page. The advent of e-mail a few years later was, of course, absolutely astounding to all of us. As was the transition to computers: when not just the clerical staff – but every single person in the building – got their own computers. And all of a sudden, every business had to create an IT department.

Sometime in the nineties, mobile phones became the next big ‘thing’, although back then, they were still a rarity. I used to travel by train and bus quite a lot for my work and the few people who owned a phone seemed to have one common goal: to let everyone in the immediate vicinity know that they had one. “HEY, JOHN,” they would yell into the mouthpiece. “I’M ON THE TRAIN! NO, THE TRAIN!… THE TRAIN! HELLO? HELLO? YES, THE TRAIN! HELLO?” Ever the polite Canadian, I would inwardly roll my eyes and – when I could – move to a quieter spot to continue preparing for whatever meeting I was going to.

And then cell phones began showing up in more and more places. I was appalled the first time I noticed a couple at a restaurant, clearly on a date: he, leaning far back in his seat, legs crossed, importantly carrying on a long and detailed work conversation with someone; she sitting quietly, eyes down, eating her meal alone. I wanted to cry. I wanted to shake him out of his 400$ shoes. I wanted to tell her to run, not walk, to the nearest exit. But ever the polite Canadian, again, I said nothing.

I am not sure when my relief at the demise of the telephone shouters became instead a disquieting feeling in the pit of my stomach. For awhile, the silence came as such a relief, I didn’t immediately notice that people were no longer shouting into the mouthpieces of their cell phones: instead, they were all quietly typing non-stop; heads and eyes down; fingers moving in a blur.

Please don’t get me wrong: there are many things that I like about cell phones. They are great to have when your car breaks down on the highway. They are wonderful when you are stuck behind a big accident in traffic and you have to let your family know that you are safe but will be late. They are amazing for staying in touch with your adult children – especially when they are travelling. And having an ever-present, portable little camera allows you to capture wonderful unforgettable moments. I also concede that they are essential for the self-employed, who do not have an office or regular office hours.

But I have yet to understand: who needs a cell phone while they are taking a walk in the woods with their dog? When they are out walking their child in a stroller? When they are out on a date? Who needs a cell phone at a family-reunion dinner? In church? During a one-hour company meeting? At a town parade? At a funeral? Who is that important; what is so important that it cannot wait an hour? Or two?

I see people everywhere now, wearing their phones like an appendage, soundlessly going about their days. And honestly, I think that I would rather have the phone shouters back than to live another day surrounded by this terrible, deafening silence…

Source of image

Patti Moore Wilson/© wednesdayschildca.wordpress.com

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