海角大神

We鈥檝e had the same landline for almost 40 years, since before anyone called it a 鈥渓andline,鈥� and it鈥檚 hard to give it up. Our phone number would be floating out there in space somewhere, whimpering like a dog that got left behind. And we have a cool number. It鈥檚 got two zeros in it, just like my childhood phone number, only without the stigma. Nobody liked to dial zeros back in the 1950s, when we all had rotary phones. It took too much work, and if you were in a hurry your finger might slip out of the little hole before you got it all the way around, and then you鈥檇 have to start over. But by the time we got the landline, all you had to do was push a button.

Still, this phone is annoying. There鈥檚 hardly ever anybody on the other end of it anymore that I want to talk to. Instead it鈥檚 someone telling me there鈥檚 nothing wrong with my credit card. Or someone who wants to know how old my roof is, or if I鈥檇 like to take a short survey. It鈥檚 nobody I know.

One of the reasons people say you should keep the landline is that the connection is better, and you might want it for certain conversations. Which just goes to show how much we鈥檝e forgotten about what a real phone 鈥� one with a cord 鈥� should sound like.

They sounded wonderful. When direct long-distance dialing first became available, my mom would call her brother in North Dakota, and they鈥檇 spend an exhilarating minute telling each other they sounded as if they were in the next room. Then they鈥檇 hang up. And it was true. People did sound as though they were in the next room.

That鈥檚 because their voices didn鈥檛 have to guess where they were going. They got to travel inside honest-to-goodness enclosed wires the whole way, completely out of the weather, and they鈥檇 come out all creamy on the receiving end. Nowadays your voice has to find its way through the air and bump into mosquitoes and hurricanes and such, and by the time it gets to your friend鈥檚 phone it sounds as though it鈥檚 coming from the bottom of a box of crackers.聽

But it鈥檚 considered an improvement because we don鈥檛 have to be tethered to a wall, even though that wouldn鈥檛 be the worst idea for a lot of us.

Anyway, back then, if you heard a little crackle on your phone, you鈥檇 call up The Phone Company and they鈥檇 send out some guy with his name stitched on his shirt to polish it up for you free of charge. The wires were all tucked away inside the house through one neatly caulked hole in the siding. Now the landline brings in crunchy noises, the sound of squirrels chewing, and a background layer of generalized infrastructural tinnitus. You don鈥檛 report any of it as long as you can still make out the conversation, because it will cost you a hundred bucks to have some repairman poke a toe inside your house. If you can keep him outside, he鈥檒l haul out a bunch of new wire and staple it in careless loops to the side of your house like bunting. But it does sound marginally better than the cellphone, because there鈥檚 no delay.

These days, when my landline rings, it鈥檚 usually a complete stranger calling to ask me how I am today, so I try to just let it ring. But it鈥檚 hard. I spent formative decades racing to answer the phone because otherwise I鈥檇 have no idea who was on the other end. I still feel the urge to jump up and answer at the cellular level.

So it鈥檚 probably no use. I鈥檒l have to keep the phone. It鈥檚 securely fastened to my past, and I don鈥檛 want to lose one more thing.