I Don't Google On My Phone

Dec 15, 2023

Yes. I said it.

“I don’t Google on my phone.”

I meant when I said it that I find it easier to see and maneuver around a website on my laptop than on my cellphone.

My kids saw it as yet another example of my technological and well, overall, irrelevance, and further proof that I should be institutionalized before I become roadkill on the information superhighway.

I am not a complete Luddite.

My phone feels like my constant companion and I use apps to park my car, listen to music and deposit checks, and even get around with Google Maps (okay, you got me, technically that constitutes using Google on my phone; are you proud of yourself now?).

But, I prefer to read actual books on actual paper, avoid social media completely, and no longer interrupt conversations, dinners or vacations to dance to the tune of the latest ping on my phone.

Partly this is because I am just not a gadget guy - - I kept my rotary telephone way past its sell-by-date and never figured out how to use a VCR.

But let’s face it, part of the reason is that I am inching up on my own sell-by-date.

Still, in my working heyday I feverishly answered every email and text that dared cross my path and I was so connected that I was disconnected.

Today, everyone is like that guy walking in front of me much too slowly in a cellphone stupor with his shoulders hunched and his head down gazing at his screen notwithstanding the oncoming e-bike delivery guy. Ouch!

I had thought that the concern with being socially disconnected was primarily a focus of those of us no longer working who have more time, perhaps regret losing touch with old friends and are not sure how to make new friends in our dotage.

But it is more widespread than that.

According to the U.S. Surgeon General, our social disconnection has helped lead to a national epidemic of loneliness with people of all ages having fewer friends and romantic partners than ever before ($5 if you can name the U.S. Surgeon General and/or what he or she does, and ixnay on peeking at the link first).

One study found that the health impact of loneliness is equal to smoking fifteen cigarettes a day (what is with the use of cigarettes as quantifiers lately? - - apparently, Canadian forest fires equal smoking half a pack a day, stress equals smoking five cigarettes a day and practicing law equals wrapping your lips around your car exhaust engine for most of Sunday afternoon).

I recently came across a Substack post called What Do We Do Now That We’re Here by Rosie Spinks, who writes about the struggle to make friends in her thirties and quotes a psychotherapist who laments that “people have easily 1000 virtual friends, but no one they can ask to feed their cat.”

This phenomenon cannot be entirely blamed on the poor cellphone.

As early as 2000, Robert Putnam wrote a book called Bowling Alone, where he raised the concern from a civic perspective that we “sign fewer petitions, belong to fewer organizations that meet, know our neighbors less, meet with friends less frequently, and even socialize with our families less often”, i.e., we bowl more often but not in bowling leagues.

I probably bowl less often than I feed my nonexistent cat but you get the idea.

And phones are not solely to blame that we are at each other’s political throats, often marveling that the “other side” does not know us or see us.

I recently saw an article making note of our culture’s unquenchable fascination with celebrities through a reference to the question “Would you rather be able to fly or to be invisible.”

The thinking was that many would prefer to be invisible and thus able to see what those celebrities are really up to when the cameras are off.

Apparently, this “would you rather” notion has for years been a popular game, conversation starter, meme, and thing on TikTok and there are countless websites offering 100 (250, endless) would you rather questions, from the mundane to the kinky, but for some reason many involve the choice between flying and invisibility.

Forbes did a whole article a number of years ago examining this question and what the answers reveal about business leaders (spoiler alert: 72% of these alphas would prefer to fly, presumably in business class).

Personally, there are plenty of other superpowers that I would rank ahead of those two.

Reading minds, superhuman strength, spidey senses, the ability to open the plastic packaging that blocks access to half of the retail items that I buy.

But who really wants to be invisible?

The socially disconnected masses who believe they are not seen no doubt feel quite a bit invisible.

What’s worse, that’s the classic lament as we grow older; that we have become outdated and irrelevant, barely noticeable. Invisible.

Whatever the cause of invisibility, it seems to me that the cure is to get out there and be seen.

Granted, getting visible is not easy and gets more difficult once you lose the connectivity of the workplace, but it is certainly doable.

Recently, despite my scurrying in place midair like Wile E. Coyote after going over the edge of the retirement cliff, I stumbled upon a great new connection.

I joined a Life Learning Institute (LLI) at a local liberal arts college.

LLI is basically a continuing education program self-run by members (median age: deceased) offering classes that are taught either by the college professors, members of LLI or outside speakers.

Joining is no easy feat. This LLI has a limit of 350 spots based on classroom and parking availability and there were 150 applicants for 39 open lottery designated spots.

I am generally not a joiner and habitually keep my unraised hand safely by my side, but volunteers are given priority for membership and volunteering could be a good way to meet people so I figured, why not?

Since I practiced law for 37 years, I have no useful skills, but I volunteered for the LLI newsletter (imagine that).

Senescent fortune shown on me as LLI had a need for newsletter help.

But LLI was not interested in my content (longstanding readers may perhaps find this choice wise) but instead wanted me as a “techie.”

No doubt the IT staffs at my former firms are doubling over in laughter, but I have since been trained in Mailchimp and WordPress and now am part of the team that spits out each month’s newsletter featuring eight to ten articles, plus a host of pictures and links to the organization’s website.

Clearly, if I am part of the IT solution, then I am with my correct Boomer cohort.

They say power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, but I have found in the past that nothing corrupts like volunteer power, so I had more than a little trepidation that I would be joining some kind of geriatric uber PTA on steroids.

Well, silly cynical me, it has been fun and I have met some great people. I have even worn them down enough that I am now also part of the writing staff.

And let’s not forget the continuing education.

There are those nerdy bookworms who always relished the onset of autumn and the start of school and those academic Neanderthals like myself who dreaded the end of summer and return to classes, but hold on.

No homework, no tests, no papers, no graduation requirements, and I can explore whatever interests me? Not too bad.

LLI provides a full fall and spring term and shorter “Winterfest” and “Summerfest” semesters, along with a host of social events.

So, each week in the fall term I grabbed my backpack and Shrek lunchbox and was off to campus.

I took two classes this semester, one on the history of Russia, especially helpful in understanding the grievances and insecurities of one of our more cuddly and lovable 21st Century dictators.

The other was a short stories course, covering Jack London, Willa Cather, James Baldwin and Joyce Carol Oats, and taught by an LLI member who had taught college literature classes for over 30 years (and who I could happily listen to even if she merely expounded on her morning breakfast).

There are only LLI members in the LLI classes but our classrooms are interspersed among classrooms of undergraduates who, to the discerning eye, can be distinguished from the LLI members by their body piercings, purple hair and tattoo hieroglyphics, as well as their look of concern as they eye decrepit me walking through campus as a perpetual fall risk.

There are also ladies in my all-gender bathroom; what’s that about?

Notwithstanding that I did not realize my vain hope that I might be mistaken for a grad student taking a little too long finishing his dissertation, the undergrads are used to us and seem to respect our ongoing quest for a little knowledge.

I am not saying anybody has invited me to a mixer or to pledge a fraternity, but I am certainly not invisible.

And all this newsletter volunteering, education and social interaction has been great for helping my few remaining synapses fire on occasion.

Of course, I still evidence near-senility when I try to make a reference with my children to somebody and cannot get the character, the actor or the movie.

“You know, that gangster guy who was also the scientist guy” (Cillian Murphy, who starred in Peaky Blinders and Oppenheimer).

Or, “Yeah, the dragon lady who is always taking off her clothes in that show.” [Emilia Clarke playing Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones].

Or, “You know, that attractive woman you call ‘Mom’ who keeps asking me to do things.” [my wife].

At least I can always turn to “the Google” for answers … but sorry, not on my phone.

Thanks for reading and subscribing. At the risk of having you tell me what you really think (gulp!), I am opening this up for comments, so feel free.

Making Good Time

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