Personal computers, fax machines, beepers, cell phones--technology is constantly increasing.  We can often use these tools to build more enjoyable and meaningful lives, but there is danger that the machines may control us, dictating the pace and style of our lives.  We must keep these devices in their place.  It may be helpful to reflect on a technology we've had for a while:  the telephone.
         I spent three months in Guatemala in 1995, studying Spanish and living with  a "host family."  Nobody in Guatemala seemed to have a phone, but I didn't miss it.  My family there had plenty of time to talk with me (in Spanish), and they socialized with their neighbors.
         Like cars, phones are necessary here mainly because everyone else has them.  I appreciate the phone's convenience and its power to help us "keep in touch."  I often love phone calls, but sometimes just hate it when the device rings.  It can instantly derail a train of thought or interrupt a book, conversation, writing project, or movie.  With 7 or 10 digits, anyone can ring a loud bell inside your home.  This fact alone is worth pondering, and may provide motivation to assert control over the telephone if you haven't already.  If you don't want interruptions, it's perfectly legal to let it ring, let the machine get it (if you choose to have a "machine"), or turn off the ringer ahead of time.
         Many people drop everything to answer the phone.  I was blessed to have a mother with whom I could share my innermost feelings.  We could be in deep conversation, but if the phone rang she was gone in a flash.  In a store, I may wait 5 or 10 minutes to ask a couple questions, but--just as I'm hearing answers--the phone rings and the person helps the caller instead.  Could it be that the loud and demanding tone of most phones' ringers drives this behavior?  At a busy place I used to work doing home-health physical therapy, I may have wanted for days to discuss a client's situation with a specific nurse.  Sometimes when we finally found a time and started talking, the phone would ring for one of us.  This put the discussion on hold, but when the phone business was complete the opportunity had passed.
         Alone or with others, at work or play, I like not being "available" sometimes.  The increasing prevalence of beepers and cell phones may make this privacy more difficult to defend.  I enjoy e-mail because I complete a whole batch of communication at once, leaving blocks of time for sustained attention to other activities or projects.  A disadvantage of e-mail is that now there's one more thing you have to do--turn on the computer and check for messages.  This hasn't been a problem for me:  although I love corresponding, I don't check my mail every day.
         Telephone solicitation is an experience that warms the hearts of many.  I  once worked in phone sales--we used phone books from across the country, selling ball-point pens bearing advertising to small business owners.  Time zones were important:  "call them at dinner time," the guy said, "that's when they're home."  A guilty conscience hampered my effectiveness, as I broke the golden rule to perform this "job."  I lasted two days.
         Many are unaware that if someone calls to give a sales pitch or ask for money and you ask them not to call again, they are legally required to put your number on a list and respect your wishes.  I learned about this law in 1995, and have applied it since:  whenever I get such a call, I gently interrupt them (remember, that's a person on the other end), and tell them kindly that I don't like such calls and hereby request never to be called again.  The vast majority have been quite agreeable, I've had some fascinating conversations with them, and over time these calls have steadily dwindled to almost zero.  A couple times I couldn't follow my procedure because it wasn't a person, but a computer doing the calling.  I hope this obnoxious strategy backfires on any company that uses it.
         What about cellular phones?  They don't mix with driving any better than martinis do.  It's no fun to share the road with a one-handed driver who is dialing, talking, or digging among their things for the ringing gadget while making a left turn or merging onto the freeway.  I cynically wonder if cell phone use would even be legal for drivers if it were mainly poor people that had them.
         Off the highway, I'm still getting used to being at the grocery store, while a person in line with me is on the phone discussing business or social plans.  I'm usually too shy or preoccupied to actually meet the people I'm in line with, but it does happen sometimes.  I'm jealous of the cell phone's potential to reduce even the possibility of this happening, just as I resented the old wall phone for interrupting conversations with my mom.
         While on the phone, we may be less "present" in the actual physical space we're occupying, less in the "here" of our "here and now."  I wonder if heavy phone use is related to the fact that many of us in the United States barely know our neighbors?  With computers, we can now be in touch with people all over the world, at least in the richer countries.  Still, this is a mixed blessing if it draws time and energy away from interactions with those here at home.
         When assembly lines were introduced, people worked faster to keep pace.   As business injects more technology into our world, we must selectively use these tools to enhance our lives, rather than becoming enslaved to them.  I plan to avoid getting a cell phone for as long as possible, perhaps forever.  I'll check my e-mail tomorrow.  If the phone rings, I'll probably get it.