Morrisons Cove Herald - Putting cows on the front page since 1885.


The Sportsman's Corner

Cellphones: An Unwanted Gift


January 9, 2020

Last autumn, I decided to make an overnight trip to northcentral Pennsylvania. When I drove there to fish in previous years, I normally came home that same night. However, I am not the night driver I once was; so I decided that after my day in the outdoors, I would stay the night at a small hunting camp I belong to or rent a room in one of the motels there that cater to sportsmen. Neither my wife nor my son, Bob, believed that I should undertake such an adventure on my own. "What if you fall and get hurt?" they both challenged me when I announced I was going to do this the following week. "How would we find you?"

"I guess someone would eventually find me when they'd spot the vultures circling," I joked. Neither of them laughed.

The Saturday prior to my Monday/Tuesday adventure, Bob arrived at my home with a smirk on his face. When he entered the kitchen, I noticed Donna sporting a similar smirk.

"I've got an early Christmas present for you," he announced.

Clueless about what might be in the small package, I removed the wrapping paper. I was horrified by the "gift" of an old-fashioned cell phone. I dislike talking on telephones and find cellphones particularly intrusive. I've never wanted one.

"I'm going to throw this in the garbage."

"No, you're not," Donna said. "We're going to show you how to use it. You're going to take it with you on Monday."

Bob showed me how it worked. "You're to call when you get there and each time you change locations – and especially when you settle in for the night," he warned.

"You'd better do it," Donna added sternly.

"Yes, dear," I replied contritely.

When I arrived at my jumping-off spot, I tried to call but couldn't get the phone to work. Then I smirked – but only briefly. No more than 15 minutes after my arrival, Donna called. Somehow, I managed to answer the phone. I told her I couldn't figure out how to call.

Nor could I determine how to turn the phone off. Between Donna and Bob, they checked on me and talked so long on each call over the next day-and-half that the two hours of phone time they had bought ran out, which cut into my outdoors time.

When I came home, I threw the phone down and vowed never to use it again. I don't even know where it is. Unfortunately, Donna does, which does not bode well for me.


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