Michelle and I bought our first cell phone right before our first son was born. It was a little thing, and we bought it so that we could be on alert for any pregnancy issues. I would take it with me if I left the house.  She could call any time

I felt like a rich man as I left the parking lot. I don’t believe there were any issues back then with driving and calling. I dialed her number as I drove out of the lot. “Hey! It’s me, calling on our new cell phone!” Quite a big deal.

Since then, we have had several. We both had flip phones, thinking we were on the cutting edge, as phones go. Within a few weeks, people were letting us know our little flip phones were archaic. I soon decided that phones were much like computers: as soon as you buy one, there’s a better one invented the next day.

As the kids got older and started going to ball practice and various places in which they might need to summon their parents, we started getting the bare-bones minimum for them. We bought one of those cheap phones at the dollar store and bought a card with “minutes” on it. This was our son’s first phone. I thought it was wonderful and don’t know why he couldn’t still be using such a device. “Oh, dad,” he says in an exasperated tone.

Tanner inherited Michelle’s old phone and Corinne inherited Grandma’s phone. When Riley started making his own money, he upgraded to a Rolls Royce phone (that’s what I call it) and now pays us a monthly fee. It’s an entirely unnecessary bunch of fluff, if you ask me.  “Oh, dad.”

Younger son soon followed suit, obtaining a better phone and paying a little each month.  He is the family “minutes” police, making sure none of us go over our allotted amount. I don’t know what any of it means or why it matters. I just know that if we exceed our maximum, there’s a lot of concern around the house.

Part of Corinne’s Christmas gift was to upgrade her phone, some of which she would pay for with her own Christmas money. Off we go to the local phone store.  The baby is asleep in the van, so I happily settle back with the dome light to read a book. The girls go into the store. Ah, solitude.

After a while, I begin to get a little chilly. I start the motor and warm up the van. I shut it off. Time passes. Cold again.  Repeat cycle. Oh good, here they are.

“Wow, you must have gotten a REALLY smart phone,” I say to Corinne. “I did. Mom got one too,” Corinne says. Now, Michelle is not one to keep things from me, but I guess she wanted to tell me herself. “Shhh!” she says to Corinne. “Oh, by the way, I used your upgrade to get the phone,” Michelle adds.

Everyone in my family now had a smart phone. They zipped around the house, texting and taking selfies and having a grand time with their new toys.  For a moment, I was jealous.  Riley had taken Michelle’s upgrade and she had taken mine.  Whose upgrade would I get?  The answer: no one’s. Another upgrade wouldn’t be available for over a year. No way!

But then I was reminded how I am old-fashioned and content with things. My little red slide phone kept plugging away. Sure, it was outdated.  People made fun of it. I couldn’t do anything fancy with it. But I could call or text from just about anywhere. Good enough.

I should’ve known my cell phone’s life was almost over.  Soon, every time I sent a text, my phone would shut off. I would turn it on again. I would re-type and finish  the text. It would be all right for a bit.  Then, it would shut off again. It began to lose its charge quickly.  The end was near. I kept it on life support for almost four months. I wasn’t giving up without a fight. Then, yes, it was dead. I kept it around to lie in repose for a bit. Silly to feel sad about an inanimate object.  Sniff.

As I write this, I have a brand new, gigantic smart phone sitting next to me. It’s even a step up from those owned by others in my family.  I had to pay too much money for the upgrade and kicking and screaming are two verbs that would describe my actions in getting a new phone.

I wonder why the new phones are so big? It will take me some time to adapt. I’m not as happy about change as I used to be. Plus, I find it monotonous to carry around this giant phone.  It’s way bigger than my petite little slide-phone.

We might as well strap one of those old rotary dial phones to our back or something. Are phones just going to keep getting bigger? Will we soon have clothing with big pockets on the front to accommodate the TV screens we call phones? I know: gripe, gripe, gripe.

By the way: where DID all those old rotary phones go?  Didn’t you love the way the dial sounded? Times were slower, simpler then. Patience was part of dialing.

Boy, am I showing my age.