Just Because You Can, Doesn't Mean You Should

The beach. The glorious Oregon Coast! My two friends and I were there for a long weekend, a supposed holiday from home and hearth, not because home and hearth are undesirable, but because we needed an emptying of sorts, to better live our lives.

The drive up and over was filled with delightful catching up, and sorrows shared. A good beginning.

Interrupting our revelry, her cell phone notified her there was a text message. Nothing important. Her co-worker texted, "Have a fun time! Wish I was there!" in text speak.

Similar messages were sent five or more times before our 2 hour drive ended.

Settled into our lodgings, we headed for the shore, to walk and be soothed at the sea's edge. She checked for messages. Ha, yes, a funny phrase from another friend. One of her adult daughters sent a funny picture. Her son sent a funny picture. Her husband asked where was the new tube of toothpaste. In the presence of our coast's guardian, the Pacific Ocean, lighted with millions of sunshiney sparkles, ebbing, flowing, hissing, crashing, salty-scented, squealing gulls, seaweed littered sands, shells and foam, and there she stood, staring at her tiny tiny screen at a picture of her grandson slobbering. "Isn't that funny!!"

Getting irked, was I, just a little. A teeny bit. "Shake it off," I told myself. "Keep your mouth shut."

At meals, in town shopping, back on the beach, in our room visiting, sharing, out came that cell phone with calls, messages, nothing crucial, just little 'funny things.' For all four days. Interruptions everywhere.

Irritation turned into zeal - I wanted to stomp that phone and throw it into the ocean, or was it HER I wanted to stomp and throw. Both!

I believe the term going around is 'absent present'. This is what she was, for though she was physically with us, her dealings were back home. She never really left home. She brought her trivial day-to-day stuff with her and subsequently dumped it at our feet.

I did manage to get to the beach alone, to unwind. Somehow, though, the purification, the washing I'd become accustomed to on these trips was elusive. Try as I may, the annoyance barred the full-fledged escape I needed.

I felt gypped.

I have a cell phone, yes, yes, I do. It's the family phone, intermittently used, given to the kids when they are on outings, or for emergencies, and for calling home when we are on trips. It costs us $17 a month. We seldom use all our minutes. And, yes, I understand cell phones for businesses. They are indeed handy. It's the silly stuff, the constant silly stuff that bugs me, when taken immediately, as if there were no such thing as an 'off' mode. When do the minds of these constant chatterers digest life's daily input?

Peace constantly shattered leaves little room for gently swirling, settling thoughts, dreaminess, even meditations. I wonder, what does this do to the psyche, to be always chattering, always 'on'? How vivid can experiences be when they are disturbed, when the mind is unnecessarily pulled away to another person, another place?

I was born 100 years too late.