Once upon a time, a phone was a device enshrined in one’s home, a place to discuss cabbages and kings with the outer world. A phone was not just an object; a phone was a place, at either home, work, or school. The phone served all persons there. The first phone of my life was in my parent’s house, sitting alone on a small table in a hallway in the middle of the house. No chair there, as phone conversations were generally short, intended primarily to communicate a status: someone coming to dinner, someone is sick, someone will be late for dinner, and more. In-depth discussions? A rarity. Its ringing always ensured our attention, as phone calls were infrequent and were always urgent. Idle chit-chat? Never at our house.

That world is gone, never to return. We no longer communicate to places; instead, we communicate directly to each other. Is that good? Or is that showing disrespect for one’s privacy? That issue is dead now. Nobody cares about privacy anymore. When a phone was a place, callers knew that you were at home or wherever the ‘place’ was. But now, now the caller wants *YOU* and typically cares little what you were doing or where you were. By answering the call, you are expected to be available. Available now. No, I don’t like it. But, have you noticed? People now feel obligated to answer calls; in fact, they preempt whatever they were doing for the opportunity to quickly announce their availability to the caller. For me, the battle is lost. The right to own one’s personal time seems gone forever.

Yet, despite my frustration with cell phones, one is always with me. Carrying a phone has become a responsibility, no longer an option. Why, you ask? Well, if I am ever in an emergency, or a critical, or time-dependent situation, not being accessible will be considered inexcusable. How could I defend being unable to call for help if my car runs out of gas, or from notifying someone if I’m late for an appointment, or from explaining why I couldn’t respond to a family emergency? I’m doomed to wear the cell phone forever.

The damn thing has even become required for items that are, to me, unrelated to phones. Technology items I’ve recently acquired all REQUIRE a smartphone, just for them to function. I tell ya’, that wasn’t part of the decision to purchase the item. For example, I bought a watch that monitors heart rate. Seemed a simple purchase, but once I opened the box, what minimal instructions appeared made it clear that I must first download an ‘app’ to my phone before the watch would work. How would I have used the watch, otherwise? We’re cursed. Would I lie? Cursed.

Finally, to drive the sword even deeper, the damn thing is too *big* to fit in a pocket. My first smartphone had a 3.5” screen. My second phone had a 4” screen, but my current one has a screen over 5”, and new ones are even bigger. Do I need a briefcase to carry it? No, I do not need a big screen for my needs. If I wanted a portable movie player, I’d buy a Chromebook. We have created a device no one had asked for, and now no one can live without one. We are sick. We presume our lives are so important that we must be instantly available to others, and we actively work to keep the phone sending and receiving messages to reassure ourselves of our intrinsic value. By attempting to have a device to control our time, we have, instead, a device that puts our worlds in chaos. In time, we may learn how to regain our lives, but don’t hold your breath.