I’d like to begin the sermon with a story which I think demonstrates the moral at the center of this talk. It occurred while I was attending “the other university” in this state, and involved a fellow academic team member whose Puff Daddy CD broke mid-way through a return trip from a tournament. Now, I was riding in the other car so I didn’t witness this, but my fellow teammate was so distraught about his loss that he insisted on pulling onto the side of the road and burying the broken pieces of disc right then and there. I considered it a little on the foolish side to be so attached to an inanimate object, no matter how much pleasure you derived from it. I still feel that way, the first full day after the death of my cellphone, but I’m beginning to understand the sentiment a little better.

When I came out of Super Taco yesterday afternoon and reached into my pocket so I could check the time, I noticed that my phone was missing its distinctive (and annoying) antenna, a holdover from the days when cellphones still had those (go look at any turn-of-the-century “Frasier” episode if you don’t believe me). My phone was still alive, but just barely; the “no service” message which was more familiar when I was at home (for some reason reception was limited to the immediate Clemson metropolitan area) was in full force, and eventually I had to concede that Old Gray (for its metallic cover) had seen its last days.

I first got this phone in the autumn of ’05, right before finally getting into Clemson for the following spring. It was a hand-me-down, given to my grandma from a friend of hers who in turn got it from her kids in case she fell down and couldn’t get up. It came with its own side holster, so I could pull it out quick and fast like cellphone users in the Old West. That lasted about six months into my ownership, before I realized that it was easier to just stuff it in my front right pocket instead of accommodating my wardrobe to include belts all the time.

I made numbers of calls on it, more than I’d ever expected (I’m the one member of my family who doesn’t have a symbiotic relationship with phones). I got girl’s phone numbers, and I also called a few of them. I started talking more often than I’d previously done in my previous decade of cellphone-less life. I even got dumped once or twice via phone (never a fun thing), but I also had very funny conversations with my buddies via the cellphone. In short, it kinda came in handy.

Now, alas, I am phone-less, at least for a few more days. Last month, the writing was on the wall when the phone started malfunctioning and being a general pain in the you-know-where. My aunt, who had in her possession a much more modern phone which she no longer needed, gave it to me (I guess as a belated “Happy Graduation ’08!” gift), and now all I have to do is set it up with a phone plan. Considering how often I had to spend money on sixty- or a hundred-and-twenty-minute phone cards for the old one, the start-up fee of thirty dollars with a first-month payment added on is a little steep, but I think less aggravating than keeping up with how close I am to needing more minutes. In short, I think it was time for an upgrade, however painful it was to lose Old Gray in such a sudden manner.

So I’ll set up my new phone, probably have yet another number to memorize in case I meet any cute girls I want to give my digits to, and I’ll even be able to take phones or text folks if I desire to (the most I could manage on Old Gray was an Atari knockoff version of Blackjack). But it won’t be quite the same as hearing a Muzak version of the 1812 Overture every time someone calls me and I don’t wanna pick it up.

At least now I can use the line “I lost my phone number, can I have yours?” non-ironically…