Like a lot of people, I hardly ever actually “talk” on the phone, preferring text messages instead, and unless the incoming call is something I’m expecting or the person calling is a member of my family, I almost never answer my phone when it rings. The way I figure it, most people who I want to talk to will text me (or email me, or Facebook me, or Tweet me). If someone isn’t texting me, I assume that either (1) it’s bad news, (2) it’s really important, or (3) it’s someone I don’t know or who doesn’t know me very well. In the case of (1) or (2), I might answer (again, only if the caller is family or a close friend) but in the case of (3) it’s definitely going straight to voicemail.
I’m of the generation that spans not only the pre-smartphone/post-smartphone divide, but also the pre-cellphone/post-cellphone divide. I really can’t remember when I got my first cellphone, but I’m guessing it was in the very-late-90’s, maybe even as late as the early-aughts. For me, that means that before I got my first cellphone I had already graduated high school, spent a couple of years in college, dropped out of college, stupidly run away to Boston for a year to chase my first (terribly ill-fated) love, returned to Memphis and re-enrolled in college, played in a handful of different bands, eventually and against all odds graduated college and a million other things in the interim that kids today (OMG DID I JUST WRITE “KIDS TODAY”?!) quite simply could not imagine doing without the help of a cellphone. I remember– though vaguely now– having a much more affectionate disposition toward the telephone call when I was much younger. In junior high and high school, getting the opportunity to gabgabgab on the telephone was not only a privilege, but an exclusive one. No one else could talk on the phone, no one else was even “reachable,” if you were the one on the phone in your house. I remember the kind of generic anticipatory excitement that one felt when the telephone rang. Maybe it’s for me! All that joy in actually talking on the phone is pretty much ancient history now. Despite my general displeasure in using it as it was originally intended to be used, my phone is an absolutely indispensable tool in my life now. I’m almost as dependent upon it as I am upon food and water.
Nah, not “almost.” They say that humans can survive up to three weeks without food and water. When my iPhone runs out of battery or I accidentally leave home without it, those few hours feel like I might not survive them.
I don’t change the ringtone on my phone frequently. If I had to guess, I’d say I change it once every six months or so. But when I do change my ringtone, these days, it’s because I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve started dreading the song because I associate it with needing to answer the phone. Such a strange and dramatic change, really, to experience just in the course of one lifetime.
The last time I changed my ringtone was almost six months ago now– for a long time it was “Beast of Burden” by The Rolling Stones— and I’m very nearing the point where I’ll need to change it again. I know that time is coming because I was at Earnestine and Hazel’s a couple of weeks ago and heard my ringtone-song played on the jukebox and my first thought was “ah, crap, that’s my phone.” Still, I do love this song. Here’s my current ringtone, Etta James’ “Tell Mama”:
Might as well use this post for crowdsourcing: anybody got an idea what I should use as my next ringtone? Suggestions are welcome and encouraged in the comments below!
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Here’s your quick-access link to the entire 30 Day Song Challenge 2014 prompt-list and my picks for each day.