Can You Hear Me Now?

Can You Hear Me Now?

I remember,
I remember a time relatively not so long ago,
just barely, but I do remember,
a time without without cell phones,
a time relatively not so long ago,
around the same time I was starting to like girls,
I'd meet a Claire, or Brianne, or a Rachael,
she'd be in my math class, or in gym, or maybe Social Studies,
I'd write my phone number on a piece of paper,
my phone number, with a drawn heart, or flower, or smily face to accompany the numbers,
it'd have been my home phone number,
my personal line,
a number, that if she really liked me, she'd have to memorize in her head, number by number,
a number that if she so chose to call,
my mother, or stepfather, or myself would answer,
it was a number to my home, to my family,
sometimes,
if a girl REALLY like me,
she'd write HER number on a piece of torn notebook paper,
with a drawn heart, or flower, or smily face to accompany the numbers,
her personal line,
the number that if I so chose to call,
likely her mother, or father (slightly stressful), brother or sister would answer,
and, I'd have to muster the courage to answer, when asked,
"Who's this?"
I'd have to state my name, and then ask for Claire, or Brianne, or Rachel,
no impersonal text messages, no digital hearts,
no logging a number into a cell phone and forgetting about it in a digital database,
none of that,
no digital hearts, hearts drawn by hand, with love and intention,
real phones, at real homes, with real people answering,
and that sort of human interaction took real courage,
that was much more personal,
every number given,
or received,
required, literally,
a personal touch,
there was tangibility in the ritual,
there was physical proof that the interest was there…

I remember,
I remember a time relatively not so long ago,
each number was an artifact of emotion,
each number held a special little place in our consciousness,
now, numbers hold no such magic,
now, when a number is given, or received,
it is logged onto a cell phone,
usually never to be called,
it is logged onto a cell phone,
and buried beneath an overload of data,
systematically cleared out every few years,
to make room for more numbers,
now a number is a megabyte,
anonymous,
emotionless,
dead,
resting in peace somewhere in your contacts,
we have,
more names,
but less meaning,
more numbers,
but less feeling,

I remember,
I remember a time relatively not so long ago,
when we'd remember the important numbers by heart,
by heart,
do you remember that?
when memory meant our OWN memory?
when memory didn't mean megabytes and gigabytes,
when you hear the word "memory',
do you first thing of our human memory, or the computer's memory?
there was a time when memory ONLY meant human memory,
why are we giving away our memories!?!
There was a time,
there was a time relatively not so long ago,
when we'd remember the important numbers by heart,
we'd remember the phone numbers of our best friends (do you remember your best friend?),
we'd remember the phone numbers of our boyfriend, or girlfriend,
and of course,
we always knew the number of our home,
the number we could always dial and our parents would always answer…
Now,
we don't even have a home phone number,
most of us don't even have a home!
Now, we don't even hang up the phone,
we just silently press "END CALL".
the poetry of the motion is gone,
the ritual is dead,
we've transferred our emotions onto our cell phones,
our cell phone have become our best friend,
our cell phone,
like they're even ours,
like they are ours like our pet, or our friends, or our family,
just Me, Myself, and iPhone!
We keep our thoughts on them,
we sleep with them,
they are by our side at ALL TIMES,
they are with us more than any body else,
they do our work for us,
they think for us,
we don't even have to dial anymore,
we just press a button and call,
the magic of the motion is gone……...

I remember,
I remember a time relatively not so long ago,
when we'd get mad we would calm the phone down to hang it up,
now we just press end call,
when we'd get excited,
we'd run to the phone and lift it up excitedly to our ear,
and when we were in love,
we'd stay up late, and twist the phone cord around our finger while talking to out lover,
now there is nothing to hang the phone up on,
there is nothing to lift,
there are no cords to twist around our fingers when we are in love,
there's just the soft warmth of radiation,
we have all these names in our phones,
but less people to call upon when we really need someone,
we have all these numbers,
but can not remember a single one,
honestly,
tell me a single number you know that's on your phone right now,
cell phones have taken over!
I took a girl on a date,
not too long ago,
she was pretty, enough,
she was friendly, enough,
and she was intelligent, enough,
she seemed to be interested in me,
honestly,
except at dinner she paid more attention to her phone than to her food,
she paid more attention to her phone than to me,
she was so busy with being there in the virtual world,
that she was not here, in the real world,
I wanted to take her phone from her,
throw it on the ground and stomp on it with my foot,
I wanted to tell her that she was giving her time away to a machine,
that she was giving her energy away to something that takes and gives nothing back,
that she was becoming a techno-zombie,
that she was destroying her soul and all that is spiritual and alive,
is nothing sacred anymore!
We've become emotional slaves to the machine, and we don't even know how, why, or when!
CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW!!!
instead of saying any of that to here though,
I just got up, stared at her blankly from across the table silently,
and walked out of the restaurant,
leaving her in her virtual world with her virtual friends,
this is the virtual end….
she later texted me, asking if it was something she said,
no, it was actually quite the opposite, it was because she said nothing…

I remember,
I remember a time relatively not so long ago,
when a girl I liked would stare me in the eyes, smile, and hand me a folded piece of paper,
I'd put the piece of paper in my pocket, and wait for a quiet moment,
when I'd unfold the piece of paper I would find in hand written emotions,
(323)584-9843, Claire,
with a smiley face and, if she really like liked me, a heart too,
that little piece of paper would give me the most wondrous feeling,
that little love note would give me goosebumps and chills, the good kind,
my heart would flutter, and I'd think,
wow,
this is true love,
when I add a number to my cell phone,
I get no such feeling,
the emotions are gone,
I miss those little love notes,
I miss my memorized numbers,
I miss my home…
Can You Here Me Now?

by Adam Amor, author of '300 Girls: A True Love Story' available on Amazon and Kindle