Fruit Phones and the Other Kind
Recently I have found myself thinking about my childhood. Many people think about their childhoods as they look into the mirror and see what age does to a person. I am well aware my once brown hair is now white as January snow. White hair runs in my family. My mother told stories of finding her first white/gray hair in her late teen years. By thirty-five she stopped looking.
No, I’m not thinking about white hair. I’m thinking about cartoons, the cartoons of my childhood. I know exactly what brought me to my new pastime. I was bothered by two questions that were asked of me by my employers. One question was asked almost two years ago, the other last week.
After informing me that my employers would like to hire me, my future employer asked, “We will need to get you a phone. What kind of phone do you like, a fruit phone or the other kind?” My reply was quick, “I’ve never owned a fruit phone, I would prefer the other kind.”
Seems hard to believe but I have carried a cell phone since the mid-‘80’s, long before phones became smart. I was working for two forward-thinking brothers in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The brothers kept their company on the cutting edge of construction and purchased cell phones for their employees. I’ll admit it was a big deal at the time. It made my job somewhat easier to get information and make contact with the contractors.
Since that time, I have had every kind of cell phone. The cell phone in a suitcase, I had one. A phone mounted in my truck between the front seats. Yep, had one. That one was stolen out of my truck. Walkie-talkie phones, brick phones, flip phones, I’ve had them all.
I actually had two brick phones at the same time. One “brick” phone was supplied by my employers at the time and one gifted to me by my mother for Christmas. I give the credit to Mom because Dad had little or no interest in gifts. My “parents” gifted each of their sons exactly the same gift every Christmas. One year it was