You know you’re middle aged, when you can’t see your keys!

Let’s see… I’m rummaging around in my paper recycling bin trying to find the letter from Rogers.

Hmmm, here’s that nifty looking ad for yet another wooden filing cabinet. Don’t need that; all I need to is purge some files in the cabinets I’ve got.

And here’s where I dumped the contents of my three-ring punch. And last week’s answered phone messages. And a notice of an event that I’d like to attend but can’t fit into my calendar. Lots of paper in this basket but not the letter from Rogers.

It went like this. “Your phone is obsolete. It won’t work very soon. Call us and we’ll send you a new one.”

The letter was a page and a half, though and took much longer to digest. But that was the jist of it. My nice, blue, digital, Nokia cell phone with the keypads that I could read and hit with my fingers is now obsolete. It was supposed to be the latest thing. I’ve managed to make it work for my modest needs… I bought a 3-inch piece of extra wide velcro and stuck it and the phone near the odometer in my car. It worked just fine.

I’m not really that interested in making myself available for non-emergencies 24 hours a day… handling my office voicemail, my email, and the blasted telemarketing calls on my home line takes up about half my day as it is. People can find me. So, no voicemail on the cell phone.

Well, enter the new age!

My little blue phone went dead and Rogers UPS’d me my brand new phone. I can hardly see it! It’s about 1/4 the size of my old phone and it folds up even smaller. Lets you know just how big the keys are! It’s about the same size as my VW key!

I opened the manual because it’s an old fashioned book. That’s as far as I could go. Then I figured, “I didn’t make this thing obsolete, and I don’t have time (or ability) to read this manual and make this thing work. They’ll just have to help me!” The very young woman in the Rogers store did just that! She flipped open a cover, inserted a little tiny chip and then a battery and got my number somehow associated with the phone.

“So, how do I make a call on this?” I asked. Seemed like a reasonable question to me. After all, it’s entirely different from my last phone with it’s ‘do-it’ button. No kidding, that’s what the manual called it; the ‘do-it’ button. She punched in a number and hit a faint green swoosh on one side.

Then she moved some circle around and around and icons flew all over the little monitor. Literally. She played and I couldn’t even focus.

“This is your games icon,” she gushed. “Look at these!”


“Perhaps you could show me where and how I might enter a few phone numbers that I’ll use frequently,” I ventured. Zip-zip! Done. I haven’t a clue how that happened.

Anyway, the short story is that I can make a call. I haven’t a clue how to answer one, though. I have picked up an ear piece so if I’m using the phone in the car (which is the ONLY place it’ll ever be) then I’m not occupying one or two hands to make a call. However, the ear piece is a non issue… the keys are so small I can’t see them so it’s unlikely I’ll use this phone very much at all.

As I write this, I’m remembering when I received the blue phone that I’m going to miss so much. It was just yesterday and I remember sharing the story with you. Since I can’t find the Rogers letter in my paper recycling basket, perhaps I can find the blue phone column on my website. Eeegads! It was just yesterday, I thought.

That column is dated October 3, 1999! I’ve had that phone for eight years! Well, a few more wouldn’t hurt, then, would it? Headline on that column was: Yikes! I’m a chip-deficient victim in a techy labyrinth.

I feel the same way now. And, isn’t it amazing that the phone that confounded me then is the one I’d like to keep now? Stay tuned! In 2015 I’ll be writing again… maybe.

Thanks, Rogers!


PS Roy Randell called from the Salvation Army’s Bayside Mission. Your response to the need for workboots last week was absolutely overwhelming! He’s thrilled because it’s letting people get back to work. Thank you!