feel like talking?

Next on the list of things that are going to disappear in my/your lifetime: the land-line telephone.  Now that's going to be trouble for me to cope with, even to write about.  My landline is my lifeline. I have encountered cellphones but I'm not handy or happy with them.  I was the first person I knew to get an "amigo" way back (I returned to Toronto over ten years ago)  when I lived on the shore of a Muskoka lake in one of about ten dwellings occupied year-round and I faced a 2 1/2 hour drive to Toronto on a road that was wiped out by white-outs during the winter months. I realized the hazards of walking alone with my dog or of driving alone on that highway and got a cellphone so I could call for help in case of an emergency. I never had such an emergency, BTW, and I didn't use the phone for chat. Later, in the city, I got another phone for dog-walking.  But I found the keys too small for my thick fingers and I don't have the dextrous opposable thumbs that kids today have developed with all their practice on video games. I let the (devious) contract run out and got a stripped-down cell phone with big numbers. I use it when I go away somewhere to write rather than rely on a possible landline. Soon I am going to have to face a cellphone full time when I go off on another writing retreat, so it's a good thing I am considering the demise of landlines now. I guess I'm going to have to rely on a cellphone while I'm away. I don't know what to say. A phone is a phone, good for swift communication and information, but I understand certain people's need for further expression.  In my day, and in my children's day, phones were for talking, a lot of talking,so much so that a children's telephone with a separate number was allotted to me and my brother and later, when I had a family, to my children. My grandchildren have permanent cellphone numbers so that they can move often, which they do, and still be on call. I guess really mobile people should have permanent numbers assigned to them. Maybe some day babies will have a number tattooed on their heels so they can be tracked for life - not unlike the GPS microchips some dogs have installed by their watchful owners.  Area codes would be tricky in the case of a world traveller- I mean how much space is there on a heel for a world number?  But those are cellphone problems.  What about the landline? I guess I've just skirted the problem. If you move around a lot, a landline is not for you.  See, I'm not only sedentary, I'm stationary, so I'm easy. I'm as close as your telephone. 

 

we go on we go on

Answers to yesterday's quiz: Jimmy Bean; Gilbert Blythe; Peter -don't think his last name was ever mentioned. I would be so grateful to be corrected.   So, we/you/I keep asking: how can The Book ever disappear?  Well, they're talking about the physical book, as opposed to all the electronic ways something like a book can be read. I'm a member of The Folio Society, for a long time now.  The book lovers and purveyors there used to issue a flyer about twice a year and the big deal was Christmas. Now they seem to have flyers and announcements every month. It's their answer to e-books.  Instead of buying a mess of words to read on an evanescent "page", why not buy and own a REAL book, with handsome illustrations, elegant fonts, lovely stock, a book worth handling, loving and treasuring?  And keeping.   The e-readers offer services: their versions of bookmarks, highlights, notes and so on.  I use the smallest post-it notes in my books as well as pens.  Some books look like benign hedgehogs with all the little papers sticking out of them ("Read me! Read me!).  When I go back to them I have a guided tour, a digested series of thoughts, with my comments on the side (I like wide margins) so that I can pick up where I left off.  I have been doing that a lot recently, picking up, because I'm preparing to write a new book.  I don't treat fiction books like this, for the sake of other readers.  But my reference books and non-fiction: essays, criticism, memoirs, diaries, reports and speculations, these are all annotated.  When the University of Manitoba and I were first negotiating the acquisition of my papers for the archives, I warned them that my women's diaries are all marked up  "Good!." I was told. "That will give valuable insights into your mind."  (Makes me feel like a cave. Bring a flashlight.)  I'm grateful they didn't think I was defacing my books. I wouldn't do that.  Books are precious.