Nostalgia
[A] cellphone to me is a secular form of purgatory — merely a subtle, more nagging version of the electronic ankle bracelets that perverts and felons have to wear.
A brilliant observation by Paul Theroux in this morning’s New York Times, leading to several rambling, probably incoherant, thoughts.
First is the unfortunate reality of that statement as I spent the last week (Friday to Friday) attached to one of the electronic tethers. I’ve spent time on call for the cube people before, but until last week they provided a pager. Now, at least one week out of four, they force me to be one of those people I normally pity – those who carry their cell phones everywhere. Ready to annoy and insult those around me at a moment’s notice. Nope – ten minutes to find a private spot to return a page isn’t the excellent customer service we provide, so instead I have to content myself with a silent protest and take ten minutes to return a voice mail message, feeling nostalgic for a small, vibrating pager as I carry a cell phone that I refuse to answer at the gym, at the pool, while walking the dog, etc.
The article, the main point of which was the author’s use of short wave radio during his year’s of traveling overseas, also brought a bit of nostalgia on those points as well. I remember the BBC broadcasts in pre-Internet Togo. Reliable, unfiltered news in English. While I certainly have no need for that now, it did bring up some good memories and got me thinking about a question several people have asked me recently: do I miss the overseas traveling?
The answer is no, not really. There are still places overseas I want to go, but in the nine years since I left the Foreign Service, I’ve been to many places in the western United States and developed some great memories of little known and under-visted places there. Depth, not breadth. Nissantruck offers comforts that business class can’t touch and Pongo certainly prefers riding shotgun to riding cargo. And that doesn’t even get to the fact that I have no desire to subject myself to TSA screening in this new post-9/11 world.
So, on a beautiful Sunday 3 1/2 years into my stay in San Diego, I am feeling a bit nostalgic today. But its a good Sunday. Good coffee, good paper, just a bit of work. Not as good as if I were just basking in the sun all day, but a pretty good Sunday.
