What is everyone talking about on cell phones?
By Carl Heintze Everyone in this valley seems to have a cellular phone. I don’t. Well, under duress I will admit that we do own a car phone, but it’s not active. It came with the car, but we couldn’t figure out who would want to call us while we were driving, so it just sits there, its little face staring at me blankly when I drive. We also couldn’t remember anyone whom we needed to call from the car. I suppose a highway patrol officer or a towing service might be in order, but we don’t travel away from home by car that much. Sometimes I think I’ll screw the antennae into its post on the back window, just as a status symbol. But I haven’t. That would make our car look like every other car I see whizzing past me, those BMWs and Mercedeses driven by slick young men and pretty young women dressed for business, car phones at the ear, transmitting some important message like “Did you remember to get a loaf of bread?” or “Was I supposed to pick up the kids today?” In fact, I don’t know what
