Call me cheap, but on my recent trip to Ireland, I simply turned my phone off rather than risk paying enormous roaming charges while I was out of the country. Like many people, I’ve grown very dependent on my cell phone, using it for phone calls, emails, texts and even taking and sharing photos. I was a little nervous about going without my phone for so long (what if there was an emergency and my family or the dog-sitter needed to reach me?), but my husband did have a phone that he could use to his check emails, and even make a (very expensive) emergency call if necessary. So, as soon as we boarded the plane for Dublin, I turned off my phone, stuck it in the bottom of my purse, and vowed to just forget about it until I was back home.
I’d like to say that my phone stayed in the bottom of my purse for the entire time I was in Ireland, and that I always gave my full attention to that beautiful and interesting country. But that wasn’t what happened. I found myself reaching for it again and again, purely from habit, whenever I had a spare minute or two. We’d board a train to travel to a new city, and as soon as we had settled into our seats, I’d reach in my purse and pull out my phone. Then I’d remember that it was off and couldn’t be turned on, and quickly shove it back in my purse, hoping that nobody had noticed what I’d done. I’d do the same thing when we were seated at a restaurant or pub, waiting for our food to come, and when we returned to our hotel room for a short break from sightseeing. It was kind of embarrassing.
Eventually, as the week wore on, the fact that I was without a functioning cell phone finally sunk in. I found myself not reaching for it anymore, or at least not as often. And gradually, I not only got used to not having my phone turned off, I actually began to enjoy it. True, my husband and I did exchange a few emails with our son and daughter on his phone (some connections are just too precious to break entirely) but otherwise, I was well and truly out of touch with my normal life connections. And I liked it.
I rediscovered how to just sit still and either think my own thoughts, or pay real attention to what was around me. I spent the train rides staring out the window at passing countryside, admiring the stone fences, the quaint farmhouses and the little towns we passed through. When we were stopping back at our hotel to change and rest, I’d actually close my eyes and rest for a few minutes, which did wonders for restoring my energy level. And while waiting for our food at pubs and restaurants, I listened to the music, if there was any. If there wasn’t, I spent the time actually talking to my husband, who was sitting so conveniently right across the table. I found myself both living in the moment and truly connecting with my environment, to an extent that I haven’t enjoyed in a long, long time.
Now that I’m back in the states, I have my phone turned back on. My time in Ireland didn’t entirely wean me off my cell phone habit, but it did make me see that I was letting my phone intrude into my personal life far too much. So I’ve made the promise to myself to leave my phone in my purse, where it belongs, while I’m in the company of people I care about. And I’ve vowed not to reach for it first thing in the morning, or when I’m just a little bored, or even when I feel conspicuous sitting among a group of people who are all staring at their phones. Because truly, sometimes it’s better to be disconnected.
As anyone who knows me is well aware, I get confused very easily. So the other afternoon when I was using the drive-up ATM near my favorite grocery store, I somehow managed to make a wrong turn, thereby exiting the parking lot through an entrance lane. Before I could drive off, a woman in a large SUV pulled up in front of me and blocked my exit. She stayed there for a couple of minutes, glaring and saying angry words I couldn’t hear (and probably didn’t want to hear) before shaking her fist at me and then driving on past the entrance. Part of me was tempted to follow her and explain that it was an accident, but I knew that wasn’t a good idea. What I didn’t get was why she didn’t simply let me make the turn out of the parking lot, which would have immediately cleared the way for her to enter. I didn’t understand why it was so important to her to let me know just how wrong I was and how angry she was. Whatever happened to days of just shaking our head and muttering “idiot” when we saw another driver doing something that was stupid, but not dangerous?
Amazingly, everything went off without a hitch. We visited Kilkenny, Dublin (where we stayed with a good friend who is temporarily living there) and Galway. We used the Irish Rail system to get to each town, and since we stayed in the city centers of Kilkenny and Galway, we were able to walk to almost everything we wanted to see. While in Galway, we booked a day trip to the Connemara area on one of those huge tour busses. How the driver managed to maneuver it down the narrow country lanes, I’ll never know, but he did it expertly, stopping every now and then to let a sheep or two get safely across the road.
This trip was a first in many ways. It was my first (but hopefully, not my last) trip to Ireland. It was the first time I have depended on a train to travel from one city to another. It was the first time I saw sheep sporting big dabs of neon paint, used to distinguish which sheep belong to which farm. It was the first time I rode a horse English style, which is something I have always wanted to do. I don’t think I was particularly good at it, but the guide was helpful and the horse was patient, so it all worked out. We even trotted through a rather busy roundabout on our way to the park, which was a definite first for me.
The mother-daughter relationship is always a complicated one, and I suspect that each mother-daughter relationship is also unique. When I was very young, our household was busy and my mother had her hands full with raising her own three kids, plus a niece and a nephew. Later, she added to her work load by going back to school to get her masters degree in Education so she could support my father when he quit his job to go to Seminary. My mother was there when I needed her, but we didn’t spend a lot of time together, and we weren’t especially close. And of course, once I became a teenager, I was far too cool to listen to anything my mother had to say anyway.
My mother will be turning eighty-six this summer, so I know that our time together is not unlimited. I know that she will become more dependent on my help as she ages, and that is nothing more than the natural order of life. But whatever the future brings, what I know most of all is that I am so very grateful that I have her close by now, and that I will always have the memories of these past few years together.
Recently, my son sent me a text asking what I would like for my birthday this year. I wasted no time in sending the answer: a beachfront condo on Sanibel Island, a wrinkle-free neck, skinny thighs and good eyesight. Even though I graciously told him he could select which of the gifts he would prefer to give me, I didn’t get a reply. Perhaps he was too busy comparing the costs and labor involved in each of my selections before settling on his final choice.
Muddling Through My Middle Age 