At one point in their married life, my father gave my mother a vacuum cleaner.
It was an upright model (which references the fact that the apparatus stood vertically, not that it was of higher moral character. But you probably knew that), which was pretty cutting edge at the time.
Perhaps, in deference to this fact, or, because her rural Oklahoma upbringing forbade her from throwing away anything that still worked or could potentially be repaired to work, if only someone were so inclined, she brought it with her through many years and several multi-time zone moves. In fact, I'm pretty sure my sister donated it to charity after my mother's passing.
Which means that vacuum cleaner predated cable television, the terms of most of the post-World War II presidents and, probably, men walking on the moon. And it still worked.
I mention that to tell you that, obviously, romance wasn't dead in my family (hey, some people actually want appliances as gifts). And as a prelude to the fact that I just got a new phone.
If you want to know why this is an existential crisis for me, blame the vacuum cleaner. Because during my childhood, you didn't actually throw anything away. You just waited for it to disintegrate into the dust from which it came.
Which is why buying a new something when the old something is still somewhat functional or at least isn't sparking and generating small puffs of smoke is a challenge for me.
Perhaps it's a matter of defining terms. I think something "not working" means just that: it doesn't work. At all. Deader than Elvis. No spark of life. For my children, "not working" means not working as well as the brand-new, ridiculously expensive version released almost before the echo of the register drawer closing after the initial purchase has died.
My "old" phone ("old" in this case still not being an age that would signify particularly good Scotch) was starting to act kind of cranky. Volume had to be on max (OK, that might have been me). Also, the phone had to be in front and slightly to the right of my head with no objects passing in between it and my headset or my podcasts would cut out.
If it were an Italian sports car, we'd accept that as being part of the charm that made it a classic. But, since I'm not quite sure of its origins, but Italy definitely isn't in the picture (or on the screen, which was becoming harder to see), it probably was time to let the Planned Obsolescence Fairy carry it off to either its final reward or recycling reincarnation, depending on your persuasion.
Which is why I'm currently sitting a few inches away from a new phone, eyeing it the same way a dog does a new baby.
The challenge, besides the very idea that there was still a little life left in the old phone, is that when it comes to electronic devices, "new" seldom means "basically the same thing, working in basically the same way with basically the same controls."
Now I have a develop a whole new dexterity profile that requires me to swipe when I used to push and double-click when I used to, oh, I don't know, single click. And I'm sure neither I nor my muscles are going to remember that.
I've also discovered that "features" on a phone fall into two categories: stuff I can't actually recall how to do and stuff I'm pretty sure no human being would ever have a really good reason to do.
This phone does have something called facial recognition, which seemed pretty goofy at the time, but does illustrate a great truth of life. During the setup process for any device, suppress your urge to be a smart aleck (this is a family paper, so, "aleck"). Either that or come to grips with the fact that, in public places and with people you may actually be trying to impress, you're going to have to cross your eyes and stick out your tongue to get your phone to unlock.
I'm sure, in time, I'll get used to this phone. In much the same manner I got used to all my other electronic devices. Which is to say, not at all and I can barely operate them at a fraction of their capacity. Which is exactly the capacity for which I purchased them.
My guess is this will happen just about the time I have to start turning up the volume. And the podcasts start cutting out.
Commentary on 11/16/2018