My teenage years and those a ninth-grader faces today are daylight and dark. Really mind-boggling really.
I remember our first black and white TV, a party-line telephone, a stick shift and a clutch, a window fan. The closest I probably ever came to technology was adjusting the sprockets on a two-row Covington planter to switch between planting corn or cotton.
Kids today are in a computerized, push button life with the world at their fingertips.
And so, since my DNA never knew technology, I have basically had an aversion to it all my life. Which is why I held on to my very old flip phone until a week ago. It did not take pictures, was about to fall apart and did not have apps that allow you to check email, search the internet, get directions to where you are going, etc.
It increasingly dropped phone calls right in the middle of a conversation. (It recently did that five times before I completed one call.) So Monday of last week off I went to my Verizon store. They asked me if I wanted to upgrade. I told them that two tin cans and some twine would probably be an upgrade.
So now I have something officially known as an Apple iPhone SE. It has more buttons than Carter has liver pills. And I stare mystified at each and every one of them. (And for the life of me, I do not understand why you spend hundreds of dollars for a new phone and get NO instructions whatsoever. I mean, can you at least show me how to turn the damn thing on and off?)
Before my purchase, I emailed about 30 friends and asked them why kind of phone they had. At least 90 percent had an iPhone. This being the case, I figured that if I too got one also, I would have a lot more friends I could call on for help.
Which is what I’ve been doing. One came to my house one evening and got some things hooked up. I went to lunch with another trying to figure out which buttons to push to at least call someone. Last Sunday I made the 350 mile roundtrip from Montgomery to Mobile so my son could share some knowledge with me. (He apparently uses his phone to do everything except wash his clothes. And for all I know, his phone may turn the washing machine on.)
One night I’m randomly punching buttons and suddenly there is a longtime friend talking to me, alive and in color. I was startled. I inadvertently hit facetime and there she was. (Now just how I got her on the phone I’m not sure, but I do know that before you try facetime you should comb your hair.)
Pray for me as I fumble and bumble along. Or just call it, country meets high tech.