Busy

In the fifties, we used to dial up our friends--four digits, no area code--hoping that nobody else was talking on the party line, but listening in if we were snoopy.

If the person we were calling happened to be talking on her own telephone, or had left the phone "off the hook," the operator would tell us that "the line is busy." There were no answering machines--so we just did something else while we waited--that or walked to their house to tell them what we had to say.

Today, all our phones are busy doing all kinds of things that would raise the eyebrows on the faces of those old black rotary phones.  Ordering stuff on the phone? Reading entire books?  Shazam-ing songs? Chatting with salespeople in "real time?"  Traveling anyplace we want to travel with Google? It boggles the mind. Word has it that one of the next big things is that Amazon will go ahead and ship you what they think you might want before you even order it--based on your browsing habits and history.

A different etiquette prevails in this new Smart Phone age: e-mails and phone messages should be responded to in a timely manner--within a few hours.  Sometimes I still say "my phone is off the hook"--an antique expression because a smart phone has no hook.  But if I want to take a nap, I "power off" the phone and put a napping sign on the door.

Like everyone else, I often say, "I've been so busy."  It's like a get-out-of-jail-free card; nobody argues with the bully Busy. But what am I busy doing?

I make lists.  Checking things off a list has a certain appealing clicking sound that makes me feel Important and Good--as Pooh Bear might say.  I usually return phone calls and emails in a timely manner; I get my oil changed and fix broken things;  I arrive on time for appointments and try to remember  birthdays.

But what if I want to take myself off the hook for a whole day and watch movies and enjoy my solitude?  Is that a good enough reason to just say no to the things on The List?  Yes--but I have to remind myself of that every day.

In the days of the black rotary phone, as a child of parents who worked both "inside and outside the home," I rarely heard the word, busy.  On the occasions when the word was used, it struck me as something akin to an emergency; parents were not available for a couple of minutes.

I'm going to ban the word, busy, for a week. Leave the phone powered off for hours and see what other powers may emerge in its place.  Take two days to return a phone call if I feel like it.  Scramble some eggs for dinner instead of going out again for groceries or to "grab" some fast food.  Instead of "killing time" with Solitaire and other offerings on the smart phone, I'm going to slow down time and enjoy the little tiny minutes of "real time"  that live like little butterflies inside my hours.