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I'm 38-year-old soccer mom without a cell phone.  And I like it like that. "But you have children!"  you say. Yes, well, if the kids are dead, they'll still be dead when I get back and I might as well enjoy the rest of the movie, or my fries, or that last final spread sheet or whatever I was doing when tragedy struck so suddenly.  


I stayed cell-less while pregnant, in flagrant violation of the "what will you do if you go into labor?" moral code of modern pregnancy ---  a state of constant agitation where at any moment in the ninth month I'm likely to hop in the car and drive wildly till I run out of gas 40 miles east of Ely on an unpaved logging trail and whoops! go into labor. But thank goodness I have this cell phone! Honey, I can't believe I'm getting cell service on this unpaved logging trail but I'm going into labor. ... 
 

See, if you're anywhere that has cell service, you're pretty much guaranteed that there are other methods of contacting folks --- like the giant cell phones attached to the walls at gas stations. They require no contract -- just quarters.
  

And this is weird, but you can actually call people from your own home. I know -- it does seem more natural to go over the results of your latest blood work in great detail with your sister in Nebraska while riding the 16 across St. Paul. And how is the weather in Omaha today?


Which brings me to my second point -- point A being: you don't really need one, and point B being: you're not saying anything worthwhile, and if it is something important, dollars to donuts you're having what society used to call a "private conversation." 
 

Talking, talking, everywhere, and not a thing worth saying. Do you really need to pay $100 extra a month so you can tell someone you're right around the corner? You're right around the corner! 
 

And here's the other thing. I like being out of touch. Yes, it's bad and wrong, but I've got three kids, a job, a spouse, PTA meetings --- being cell-free, it's like faking your own death and moving to Alaska for 30 minutes at a time. 
 

"He was expelled? Really? And then all four tires exploded on the van? And the washer overflowed just like that episode of 'The Brady Bunch'?  Wow, I wish I could have taken those calls, but I was spending lunch ogling mohair at the yarn shop. Sorry!" 
 

Even if I'm just taking the kids to Target to buy Clone Wars underpants, at least I'm not buying Clone Wars underpants AND voting on new Board member admission standards. And don't give me that "you can just turn it off." I become enraged when my husband doesn't answer his cell phone. Don't you pretend that you don't know it's me. 
 

But lately I've been troubled by self-doubt.  Plus my boss has taken to making fun of me for my inability to text, tweet and look up restaurant reviews. Openly. Often. As if not having a cell isn't just eccentric or arty but ... unprofessional and a bit lazy.


What if the problem is not actually society, but me? 
 

I think of technology as intrusive, another thing I have to do, have to learn, have to buy. Another thing that takes me away from what I'm doing now -- from singing the ABCs in the car, chatting up that mom with the cool shoes who's always at the park, reading the paper at the pool. And this I actually believe: Constantly "accomplishing" things is not always a good thing. If you're at the park with your kids, just be at the park. I'm not saying chatter at them incessantly like you're being filmed for Oprah, but I've seen my husband miss a thousand little moments with his hand on his BlackBerry and his mind at the office. Always being everywhere can leave you nowhere. I don't want that. 
 

But what if I'm not any better? What if my fight to repel the cell-society, to insist on a one-thing-at-a-time lifestyle, actually doesn't get me any more peace, fulfillment or quality time? On top of these high moral platitudes there's also a sneaking suspicion that relying on the kindness of strangers when I'm in a jam isn't exactly kosher. I'm like a cellular freegan, dumpster-diving into other people's coverage when the van gets stuck in a snow bank and I need help.


I need to think of technology as a possibility, and not an intrusion. A cell phone won't necessarily take me away from the private moments of life I love so much; it will just open me to engaging more easily, faster and more fluidly with those parts of my life that I both love and need. Right? 

Plus, I'm getting one with a camera and the Internet. 
 


Sarah Lemanczyk, St. Paul, is a writer and independent radio producer. She teaches radio production at the University of Minnesota's Radio K.

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She gets along fine without a cell phone, thank you. She doesn't want one. Really. Almost certainly not.

For whom the cell rings

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