I was going to be the last person in America who did not own a smartphone, a fact I was downright proud of.
And oh yeah, I had a partner, too. A close friend of mine will most probably beat me up after she sees this column. (Sorry, Lou Ann.)
Lou and I made a pact, sort of, years ago. We vowed to never own one of those devices.
In fact, not owning a smartphone was almost a point of pride for me. I'd brag, "No! I don't have one of those ridiculous cell phones and I never will."
Who needed one, anyway? I had an old-school land line at home, worked from home and the only time I left home was to run a few errands, like for my regular trips to Walmart.
If I were not home and missed your call, not to worry. I'd see your number on my caller ID and get back to you. But that all changed, three years ago this month.
It was the summer of 2016.
I love long road trips and fondly remember my original drive to Los Angeles, way back in 1982.
That's when I I quit my job at the local 7-Eleven, packed all I owned and moved to Beverly. Well, Los Angeles, anyway. (Close enough.) I moved there to begin a new chapter in my life.
After spending 12 years "growing up" in L.A., I'd had enough of the bright lights and big city, returning home to Hattiesburg.
Over 30 years later in 2016, I had one of my bucket-list moments. I wanted to see if an old man like me had the stamina to do the drive again. That's about 2,000 miles of driving each way, folks.
If you've ever driven the route along I-10 to California, then you know much of it involves crossing miles of desert.
What if I had car trouble and found myself stranded, somewhere between, oh, El Paso and Tuscon?
Not a pine tree in sight, just plenty of sagebrush, tumbleweed and me. (Gulp!)
Not mechanically inclined, the last thing I'd want was to be stranded, at the mercy of the Arizona desert.
Hence the idea to invest in a cell phone. I begged Lou Ann's forgiveness, but it was simply the smartest thing to do. (Right?)
So off to Best Buy I went. I bought myself a basic Samsung Android smartphone and then I was ready to hit the road.
Most of my friends had heard my "I'll never own a smartphone" decree.
So they were all shocked - shocked, I tell you. "Elijah," they'd ask, pausing to gasp, "YOU have a cell phone?" (Smart alecks.)
I explained to them why I'd purchased the phone, only for my solo drive to Los Angeles, assuming they'd see the method to my madness.
I also let them know my new phone would be only a temporary possession. I vowed, as soon as the trip was over, to dispose of it.
No way was I going to keep the thing.
After a safe journey to Los Angeles and back, upon my return, I'd be flinging my new Samsung phone over the I-59 bridge into the Pearl River, just as soon as I crossed the state line from Louisiana back into Mississippi. And that would be the end of it.
Okay, okay!
So I'm on my second Samsung now. (I dropped my first one and cracked the screen, alright!)
I'm now forced to admit, smartphones are a handy little invention.
And since everyone has one (except Lou Ann), it's just about the only way to keep up with people when you need to reach them in a hurry.
What bothers me, though, is when I see a group of friends out together, supposedly enjoying each other's company - and you've seen it, too - and all of them are glued to their smartphones.
The only time they come up for air is to point out something on their phones.
I find myself wondering, why didn't they just stay home? I mean, it's clear who they really enjoy being with most: their phones.
Oh, the joys of modern life. With those smartphones tucked in our pockets or purse, we're never really alone, are we?
But it comes with a price. These phones aren't used as much for conversation as they are for sending texts, Googling a restaurant's menu, checking our Facebook pages or surfing the Internet.
And what's wrong with that?
Well, we're spending a lot less time on the fine art of one-to-one human conversation, that's what.
And don't even get me started on writing...in cursive. (Can you still do it?) We text more than we write, and these days, actually talk less to each other. Face-to-face, that is.
Before the days of smartphones, you were much more likely to end up engaging in conversation with someone you'd never met.
But now, no one has time to talk to a real-life person.
We're too busy staring at that little screen on our smartphones.
You'd think that I, the guy who couldn't wait for the future to get here, would have jumped on the cell phone bandwagon a long time ago.
In my teen years, I was a huge fan of Star Trek, even The Jetsons. I was fascinated by what amazing inventions awaited us in the future.
But now that the future has arrived (for me anyway), I find myself resisting some of these technological marvels.
I still take at least a little pride in the fact that my phone does not completely own me. I don't lie in bed, smartphone in hand, its little screen illuminating my face.
In fact, I don't even bring my phone into the bedroom. It sleeps in the den, getting charged, while I'm in bed, recharging myself for a new day.
This month marks the third year anniversary with the mini-me, my smartphone.
And, okay, my Samsung and I won't be getting a divorce anytime soon. But I am proud to say, I own my phone and it does not own me.
I grudgingly admit, Samsung, you got me.
Now, if I can only convince Lou Ann to get herself a smartphone.
I think she really IS the last person in America who doesn't own one. That also makes her the only friend I can never send a text message.
Hey, Lou, what if we haven't decided yet if we're meeting at the Thirsty Hippo, Brass Hat or Mahogany Bar this Monday night?
Get yourself a smartphone, darn it!
Elijah Jones is a writer and a proud graduate of the Hattiesburg Public School System and the Univrersity of Southern Mississippi. Email him at: edjhubtown@aol.com.
