I bought a flip phone.
One without a camera or a touchscreen. Without AI, facial recognition, video chatting, GPS, or the ability to flush my toilet from the other room.
It’s a “stupid” phone. A device with the same level of intelligence as a member of Congress.
Namely, because I’m addicted to my smartphone. The first thing I do each morning is check my phone. The last thing I do before bed is check my phone.
In fact, I checked my phone four times during writing these last few paragraphs, answered two texts, ordered cat food on Amazon, paid a bill, and what the heck was I writing about again?
I had an analog childhood. The only phone my family had was in the kitchen. The cord was nine miles long and the receiver was heavy enough to be used as a murder weapon.
As a kid, our only communication with other kids was riding a bike to a friend’s house, ditching our bike in their yard, asking their mom if the friend could come outside and play, then dealing with the bitterness of rejection when their mom said no because our friend was at piano lessons.
We climbed trees, built campfires, and played kissing games with girls wherein girls would draw a circle on the floor and make a boy stand in the center. Girls could either kiss the boy or pay a fine. I once made $21.34.
Before my smartphone, I read books, used Rand McNally maps, listened to radios, engaged in face-to-face interaction, and memorized hundreds of phone numbers.
But now all I do is use a phone.
And I’m not alone. Yesterday I almost had a car wreck when a Toyota ran me off the highway.
When the Camry sped past, the motorist was holding his phone in his right hand, and with the other hand he was introducing me to the Alabama State bird. His wife was holding the wheel.
How did this happen to me? How did I get so hooked on a digital device? Where did my life go?
So I’ve bought a flip phone. It’s heavy, outdated, with the IQ of mayonnaise. This phone has the ability to make calls, send basic texts, and in a pinch I can use it to hammer roofing nails.
I’m going to commit to using this phone for a month. Just to see what happens. I’ll probably fail after six minutes and resume an intimate relationship with an Apple device. But I’d like to see if I can rediscover my own life.
You know, real life. That thing that happens when your smartphone is charging.
Sean Dietrich is a columnist and novelist known for his commentary on life in the American South. He has authored nine books and is the creator of the “Sean of the South” blog and podcast.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to Commentary@1819News.com.
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