It's harvest gold and it's hanging on the green panelled kitchen wall with an impossibly tangled, stretched out cord. If I close my eyes I can feel my index finger slip in and pull back the dial. I can even hear the noise it makes. It's name was 897-6236.
When I was little, I would scramble up the bar stool and plop down on our fashionably coordinated yellow kitchen counter to answer it. Legs dangling, I listened intently as my sister told me all the juicy details about what it was like to be away at college.
Older still, I pulled that phone as far as I could into the closet to sneak a little privacy. My Finger twisting around in the cord I moved through a teen's right of passage.
Obviously, there were no answering machines when I was a kid. If somebody called and there was no answer, you called back. The logical assumption was that the person you were calling was either out or busy. If we missed a call, my Dad always said "If it's important, they'll call back". There is profound wisdom in this comment.
Some how - some way - our parents managed to raise us safely without a cell phone. Successful relationships were had -successful careers too. All without the luxury of cell phones.
Don't get me wrong. I have a Black Berry that I am passionately in lust with. However, just because I am having the affair, does not mean I will carry it with me always, frantically look at it every 4 minutes or want to talk on the phone each time someone else wants to.
So, once and for all, I offer up my apologies to all of my friends. Trust me, it's not personal.
If I had $1 for each time I've heard (whine while you say it) "you never answer your phone", I could get an I-Phone (which I fully intend to do soon!).