By Don Rush

Yeah. I like to think of myself as this stoic, unmovable rock — someone folks can rely on for common sense, strength and security. Mr. Consistency. I project this image as the unchanging sage, and yet I looked inward and saw it’s all an illusion. I’m a smackin’ frackin’ mockery of that strong rock.
Like the big rock at the university in Wisconsin, I guess even strong rocks get moved, pushed or blown up.
Yup. Disgraceful! I was looking into an August 2006 edition of the Oxford Leader — researching for our “Peeking in The Past” feature. And, I saw the Don’t Rush Me from that week. I droned on about technology — cell phones.
It’s been less than 20 years since I walked into the 20th century and succumbed to the allure of mobile phones. I actually didn’t want to do it, but the kids were young, I was on the roads a lot, and I wanted the safety net of knowing I could be contacted at any time during the work day if the kids needed me.
Wrote I, then, “I have had a cell phone now for a couple years, but don’t expect me to give you the phone number. Even if I like you. Also, don’t look for the number on the bottom of my business card.
“My cell phone isn’t really for talking . . .
“I turn off the phone when I am home.
“I turn off the phone when I am at work.
“I sometimes forget to turn on the phone while I am in the car . . .”
What happened to me? When did I go all mushy and cave-in to modern day stuff?
“My cell phone isn’t really for talking . . .”
That’s a lie. I talk on it. Text on it. Google on it — I do it all on my cell phone. Whatever it is, I do it on my cell phone.
“I turn off the phone when I am home.”
A lie.
“I turn off the phone when I am at work.”
A lie — I never turn off my cell phone
“I sometimes forget to turn on the phone while I am in the car . . .”
A lie. My cell phone is always on and, usually when I pop in my car, I automatically sync up with the car’s stereo so I can listen to audio books.
Oh, and that bit about not giving out my cell phone number. Bah! I put it out everywhere, emails, business cards — I toss out my cell phone number like I was passing out candy during a homecoming parade.
In 2006 I wrote, “The cell phone’s not really a part of my life. As a matter of fact, my minutes last and last and roll-over all the time. I got about a million minutes of cell phone use coming to me. And even though I have paid for those minutes, I probably won’t use them.”
Not true. Like many of today’s modern, American humans, my cell phone is ALWAYS with me. I keep it charged all the time. I have a charger for home. A charger for the car and another charger for my desk at work. My cell phone is my life. I am looking at it right now as I write, and I actually smiled at it.
What the heck is wrong with me? Mr. Consistency. Ha!
As far as minutes go, my minutes don’t “roll over” from month to month anymore. It’s not that I talk more on the cell phone, no, not at all. It’s just that I have purchased the unlimited plan.
Towards the end of that 2006 column, I wrote of my fears for the future. “While we are free to communicate all the time now, I just don’t want to become a slave to technology or gadgetry. That’s probably why I resisted the temptation to get a pager in the 1990s and why I haven’t any kind of small, pocket-fitting music player nowadays . . .”
Well, well, well, Mr. Rush. How far you have fallen. Yes, I admit it. I am shackled. I am a slave. My cell phone owns me and God forbid I leave home without it.
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And, from the mailbox . . .
Don, I find myself responding to one of your articles for the second time in a month that would suggest:
a) I have far too much free time!
b) I have stumbled upon my intellectual doppelganger as we seem to appreciate the same aspects of societal evolution and opine near genius observations!
In any case, I completely agree with you concerning the glaring need for the official adoption of CDT. All of the precepts are absolutely needed. We need to return to the ideals of being able to agree to disagree and to learn how to be a non-jerk for example! But, the most important attribute is that CDT is not defined by any reference to race, creed or religion! It, therefore relies on the one ingredient that should be shared by all of humanity, i.e.; Common Sense and a celebration of all that makes us the same vs. all that divides us! More important yet is the final caveat… if all else fails, Mom is in charge anyway and will make it all better. Well done! — Steve S.
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Got a call (on my cell phone) from Oxford Township resident named Henry W. Said, he, “Stony Clasman was Lee “Indian Joe” Clasman’s brother.
And, the Saga of Indian Joe continues . . .
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