For this was also a time when you struggled for several minutes with the rotary dialer to enter long phone numbers. To endure this ordeal, you knew you had to commit to your call. Mis-dial one number and the phone gods would roar with chimed laughter! Do this twice and you found yourself considering if the call was worth the effort.
Did you really want to spend more precious time of your short life redialing? What if your callee wasn't available to answer your call? There were no answering machines (except in offices of law firms who specialized in injury cases where little old ladies were trapped when their phones fell on them). Yes, people were models of fortitude back then. Still, I'm sure there was a limit to the number of redials any one person could justify. I'm also sure those unmade calls ended up being life changers: the prom date that went unasked, the job interview request that wasn't returned, the party invitation that went unanswered, the creditor that was avoided.
I should point out that Ma-Bell's instruments of communication had other uses. Back then, the phones were so massive that movies always used them as convenient murder weapons. Not now, of course. Try using your cell phone as a blunt object of death. You'll be lucky if you can leave a red mark on your victim. Even luckier if your phone doesn't disintegrate upon impact. Even luckier still if your victim doesn't beat you to death for annoying them. (That's why I always say, "Sorry, there was a vicious, ginormous mosquito about to attack you. I just wanted to save your life. I'll text you later when I get a new phone.")
So it was with heavy heart - but not heavier than the phone - that I dragged my once-faithful relic around my house and out to the street with the other trash. Now I have a deep, circular gouge in my yard. Fittingly, one last ring from my phone ...
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