Radio Commentary
Believe it or not,
I gave away my cell phone several years ago. Many people tell me they wish they
could do the same. For the record, let me say it is still possible to live! Or even date, maintain friendships, stay in touch with family, and with
the help of a GPS unit, drive to your destination.
Life without a cell
phone encourages single tasking. Waiting might simply be waiting. Working may
simply be working. Walking on a good day might be...walking, looking,
discovering. A day off will truly be a
day off. And driving will just be driving. This sounds a bit Zen. Although
truth be told I have never been a proponent of Buddhism, nor even simplicity, I
do love choosing when to be interrupted. I also like choosing where to focus my
attention. And not being chained to a device means more ability to observe.
Walking in various
neighborhoods, I love finding secret benches and shrines, even after decades of
living in San Francisco. When I used to carry a cell phone, I didn’t have the
discipline to ignore its shiny potential for distraction. Now while my fellow
pedestrians focus on their metal pods, I take pleasure, even when in a hurry, peering
into alleys and up at roof tops. But it's not all good. Some days, I'll admit,
I have plenty more time to review my worries. And the space to feel what even
in the 21st century must be necessary human emotions -- sadness,
loneliness, yearning.
Most of all when I
walk the streets without the call of the gadget, though, I feel more part of a
three-dimensional city. The colors of old sidewalks and fog-blown trash whips
by, and I listen unimpeded to the score of the urban symphony: the squeal of
trucks, the hungry crows, the percussive mix of footsteps, and the rare, rich
human voice not channeled into a device. The other day I stood at the curb
of 18th and Dolores with a group of giddy men searching for a
restaurant, and one said, "Hey! Let's find it without our phones." He
sounded as happy with his suggestion as a child being set free onto an enormous
and colorful playground.
Believe it or not,
I gave away my cell phone several years ago. Many people tell me they wish they
could do the same. For the record, let me say it is still possible to live! Or even date, maintain friendships, stay in touch with family, and with
the help of a GPS unit, drive to your destination.
Walking in various
neighborhoods, I love finding secret benches and shrines, even after decades of
living in San Francisco. When I used to carry a cell phone, I didn’t have the
discipline to ignore its shiny potential for distraction. Now while my fellow
pedestrians focus on their metal pods, I take pleasure, even when in a hurry, peering
into alleys and up at roof tops. But it's not all good. Some days, I'll admit,
I have plenty more time to review my worries. And the space to feel what even
in the 21st century must be necessary human emotions -- sadness,
loneliness, yearning.
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