Can you hear me now? Hello???

There is something strange afoot.

Back in the hazy days when our phones became mobile--but not yet smart--we rejoiced. Some of us may have wondered why anyone would WANT to be reachable 24/7, but we jumped right on that bandwagon, anyway. It's seductive, this idea that we can talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime we want.

And, let's face it. Being able to call our road service right there, from the road, is a significant safety factor. No doubt about it. At least our mother knew we weren't in that ditch, dying, alone......

The ladder of success for each of us now also had a phone available at the touch of speed dial; we could get that critical business call immediately that might give us an early leg up to the next rung, even if it might be on the back of one of our coworkers.

Good stuff, huh? And when our new toy rang, we answered it. Right away. After all, wasn't that the whole point?

Then, our phones got smarter. Instead of ringing someone and chatting or asking that critical question (or telling Mom where we are, no it never ends), voice to voice, we can turn our phone into a mini-computer and type or message, push "SEND" and our words teleport from here to there instead.

But, as in most things relating to technology, something interesting--frustrating, infuriating, maddening--has happened to change this dynamic. Before, in the olden days, when we called someone on the phone and asked a question, they answered the question. Or maybe said something rude to the caller about such a stupid question, but either way, a response was forthcoming. We knew something lived and breathed at the other end of the phone connection. A handy thing in most cases. So, what's changed?

This "improved" method of communication has begun to work in reverse. The asker texts (or email is possible, too, what with these phones being so smart, remember) the question and then.....waits. And waits......some more.

People over the age of about 30 now have an internal dialogue kick in.

**Did they get my text?
**Are they looking for the answer....somewhere? (How about that same really smart phone?)
**Should I send the question again, just in case? I don't want to be a nuisance, but I do need to know what's going on.
**Are they ignoring me??
**ACKKKKK!

It's like having a face-to-face conversation, asking a question, and the other person silently turns and walks away. Silence, in this case however,  is not golden. We're using our "improved" avenues of communication as walls between us, a layer, of protection against actually talking to each other. Yes, conversation is often messy and it requires a bit of thought, but it's the glue that holds us together, not simply as individuals but as a society. Without it, we're all wandering around in the wilderness, alone.

With a smart phone that is silent.

It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.

Albert Einstein

Balls with edges.....

There doesn’t seem to be a gender or age component to this particular oddity, the one involving the ball that refuses to bounce.  I sat next to a 20-something young woman recently who caught the ball and then let it fall with a hollow “THUNK”  on the table between us, its jagged edges preventing it from returning to me.

Then there was the strange man I sat next to at a party. (I could call him a stranger and be right either way.) He was a great catcher. Superb, in fact. But that ball, the one I kept trying to get into play, caught on the edge of the plastic chairs we were sitting in every time. I finally got tired of bending over to pick it up off the dusty ground, so just left it lying in the dirt. It got real quiet then between the stranger and me. (I guess he didn't bring any balls of his own.)

This happens so often that I play other games with it. (Might as well; I’ve got a silly looking ball in my hand, right?) I’ve sat at a dinner table and tossed the ball to the person sitting across from me, and then watched as the “catcher” has a wonderful time with that ball. I wait, I smile, I wonder, “Will THIS be the person who knows how to throw this darn ball back to me?” Only to watch in disappointment as he puts it down by his water glass. It won’t roll—remember, it’s got edges—so it just sits here. Mute. Silent. Dead.

I do this several times with the dinner guests until I tire of the game. At that point, the only sounds drifting around the table consist of the clink of silverware or dishes being passed. And all the balls sit on their edges, simply because so many people have forgotten how to play.

Or converse.  The art of conversation seems to have gone the way of the dinosaur. This is one issue that can’t be blamed strictly on texting, either (although texting certainly hasn’t helped anyone actually “talk” to others). I have observed and participated in sad scenarios like this one for some time now:

“Hi, this is my first time here! I’m Deborah. What’s your name?” I lob the ball into play.

“[Strange man says his name.]”  THUNK. The ball just found its first edge as it drops.

“How long have YOU been part of this group?” I pick the ball up off the ground and try again; I hit it back across the net.

“Oh, about a year! I started coming after I moved here, and didn’t know anyone.”  I wait, but then Oops!…the ball falls to the ground again, another edge notched into its surface.

“Where did you move here from?” I’m nothing if not persistent, so back across the net goes the ball.

“California. My grandchildren live here, so it’s been nice to be closer to them.”  CLUNK! It sits there again, lonely and quiet.

“How many grandchildren do you have?” I know, I know…why am I still trying to get the ball back, you ask? I agree; this is getting pretty tiring.

All I can say is that I really enjoy meeting and talking to new people. I've found I even enjoy more now than when I was younger. We all have such great stories and experiences—at least at last recollection we did—and these shared experiences can bring us together in some very important ways. Regardless of our age, or ethnicity, or gender, or place of birth we are more similar as humans than we are different. We might even learn something from each other.

But we have to talk to each other to find that out, right? I’m exhausted most of the time from stooping over to pick that silly ball up. So, for those of you who need concrete lessons, let’s start that “conversation” between strange guy and me over again:

“Hi, this is my first time here! I’m Deborah. What’s your name?”

“[Strange man says his name.] Is this your first time here?” 

“Yes, it is! It seems like a nice group. How long have YOU been a member?”

“Oh, about a year! I started coming after I moved here, and didn’t know anyone. Did you meet  a group member somewhere or did you just find us on line?”  

“Actually, I met Susie at a networking meeting last week, and she invited me to come tonight! You mentioned that you moved here; where did you move here from?”

“California. My grandchildren live here, though, so it’s been nice to be closer to them. Do YOU have any family in the area?” 

“Yes, I do. My daughter lives here and my mother lives with me. I don’t have any grand children yet. How many do you have?”

And the ball bounces on, no edges to catch on anything at all! The ball stays in the air more than it drops and it’s a lot more fun to play the game.

Conversation doesn’t have to be a mystery. It simply involves showing a little interest in the person on the other side of the net. Enough to throw the ball back at least once in a while.